Tilt-a-Whirlo

A brackish haze rests like a film across the sharper pieces of the year, I have wrapped myself in a cocoon. I have been in the studios for nights in a row, working through the divide and refining my dedication. For years I have held the belief that a talented artist is a lazy artist, that they will not sink their teeth into the bone when time gets short; and, conversely, that a moderate artist with a bucket of perseverance will surpass the innate talent on every level as their developing technique lends itself  to personal style.

My body is sore and my joints are swollen. I think it's from working in the studio but there is a lingering possibility that I may still be reacting to the measles vaccine. If so, well,  would be wise to go to a doctor.

I had a few casual drinks with a dude, lets call him Frank. Frank seemed a little cowboy and in a town that is full of people who are so passively liberal my teeth hurt, it was refreshing to be around someone who hunts and knows how to fix a car. We had some good laughs, he told me how he was working on controlling his confrontation issues, we laughed a little more. Moving forward we went and drank coffee while my mom was in the hospital. His attention on me was complete, he seemed interested in what I had to say, and our ideas about personal responsibility lined up. We both agreed that the future is a little stark. He said he wears his scars like badges of honor and remembrance, that he would however never get a tattoo because his body is a temple.

Later over football and beer, I mention Ferguson and how it is a huge fucking problem. He says the kid was a thief and confronted the cop.

That really sat with me. How he started the conversation with I am not a racist but this is Oregon and there were sundown laws until 1963.

As if institutionalized racism makes it more palatable or acceptable. As if saying you had bro's on your sports team makes you less of an arrogant fuck.

I said that I had stopped dating white dudes about four years ago.

Who have you been dating then? he asked, confused.

****

 I dropped him off and spent the next few days thinking it over and then I realized that he is not for me. There is absolutely nothing in me that needs a moderate closeted homophobic racist white dude with confrontation issues and no particular passion in my life. I don't owe him a phone call to explain that; I don't owe him a friendly card. Nothing.

I chose to have lovely beautiful talented and inspired humans around me, so thank you all for being lovely and kind and full of hope.