Corina returned with our healthy sized salads in her hands, balancing a large bowel across one of her forearms. I move the bottle of wine making room for her to set it down, taking my salad from one of her hands. Aromatic fragrances surrounding the area above the table quick, as she smiled down, looking satisfied. She lick her lips as, all smiles, as my companion and I looked up at it.
“This is the creation of my boyfriend who works in the kitchen. Delicious. It is called Nacho Mama. It is Mexican styled perogies with all the fixings. Our Chef is a wonderful man.
“That makes all the difference.” I said, experiencing the essence of our snacks.
“He forced all the staff to create a signature dish that represent our personalities. And this one is my favourite.”
“Ahh, you love him.” I smiled at her and she giggled. “You say forced? That doesn't sound nice at all.”
“Well, all the staff have to make up a dish, and two of the dishwashers have not yet. He keeps threatening to fire them. I don't think he would. They are shy, but that's what he keeps saying. Now, I asked him to prepare them spicy, the way I like them. I hope that's okay?” Janet asked, eyes filled with mischief,
“I love spicy. Is your boyfriend, spicy really?” Our hostess' cheeks reddened a little with a smile growing and head bobbing in agreement, as we both thanked her for her fantastic choice.
“Oh my god, I hope you guys enjoy.” Corina returned to the kitchen with a skip.
“You know what would have been funny?” I asked as we both loaded up our side plates with some viddles.
“What would have been funny?” I freshen her glass with more wine.
“If she showed all that enthusiasm and brought us chicken fingers.” Janet laughed, licking some sour cream from a spoon.
“Imagine. Man this smells good. Before, when Corina left us, what were you saying something about that was close?” I smiled at her. She remembered, a good sign.
“Yikes, are ah, She could have been like most people I acid test with little psych puzzles here and there. She was enthusiastic, not just running this job like a robot. Some part of her enjoys what she does, and she a person who likes to think. That's why I asked her to surprise us with her choice of appetizer. I know bartenders don't like that kinda ish, but too bad so sad. I'm interested in the way people think, and I am worried about the kid's future these days.
“The Kids are alright. I see them every day. But now I am starting to feel bad at exposing her to, well that.”
“I wouldn't worry about it, she's serving liquor, so she's and adult. A brand new one, but an adult just the same.”
“I never though about that. That makes me feel better.” We both turned into moans as we sampled. It was really good.
“What's another one of these acid tests you mentioned.”
“Most of the strangers I met, I ask them to tell me a story. Usually I get brushed off with a claim of them not knowing any stories. Every now and again, someone will share something with me, and I get a smile out of the deal. But on that special, rare occasion, when somebody makes up something ridiculously outrageous, I consider getting to know them further. I live for creativity.
“Creativity is beautiful. The Kids I teach are so creative, but somethings you do have to pull it out of them. So are you or are you not, a master procrastinator. This is important I don't want to beat a dead horse. I like horses.”
“I like them too. I feel bad for them, the stories I hear about them.” I shared in between morsels
“Don't change the subject. I am learning that is a thing you do.”
“I wouldn't say that I am a master, but in this day and age she's kinda tough not to waste time away playing video games?
“Do you play a lot of video games.” She looked disappointed already, so I knew what not to say.
“There was a time. I turned my back on them when the first Nintendo came out, cock,” I paused for a seconded, looking at Janet to see how that word would affect, “blocking little so and so. Sorry for the language.”
“No worries I swear like a trucker. How did Nintendo get in the way of your action?” She flirty smiled at me.
“Oh my god, I hated Mario and his brother and that 8 bit hip hop beat that came out of the TV sometimes. My high school girlfriend and her best friend were addicted the them, and well, I was addicted to her.”
“You were addicted to her?” Janet asked through some food.
“In love really. She spent way too much time with them two so's and so's. We were young and I was anxious to get underway with all the many first experiences to discover, together.”
“Mmm first experiences, I love first experiences. Being in a new city for the first time and just wondering around, smelling all the new flavors. Seeing the all the strange people. Listening for new sounds. Meeting new friends. Getting into adventures. I love travelling.”
“That's funny, I have never met a woman who doesn't.”
“Yes mister side track, what does this have to do with you and the studio setup in your home?”
“Well I don't know if I want to paint anymore.”
“I bet you it has something to do with the zombie Jesus?” She smiled before popping a fraction of wrapped potato and cheese, covered in thick cream and salsa between her lips.
“How did you know that? That is where the painting came to a stop.”
“I think I got to know you a little bit while we were texting for such a long time. You didn't sound like the christian type. Jesus, does not seem like your thing.”
“I'm not, that was the problem.”
“Sounds personal, why don't you tell me how you started drawing.” I smiled.
“It was because of a woman.”
“Imagine.”
“Hahaha yikes, well ah, yeah, my brother was living with this woman, and I started to crush as soon as I saw her. He once found a picture of the two of them, with her cut out of it, and started giving me shit, asking me why I didn't like her. I was like in grade five or six. I didn't tell him at the time, I cut him out of the picture and was telling all my friends, 'wanna see my new girlfriend. She lives out of town'. None of them believed me but I didn't care. I was round about 10 she was 20.
“Oh my god you lie too?” she winked at me, licking way some sour cream from her lips.
“I try not to lie, I'm no frigging good at it. Anyways, she loved to draw so I wanted to learn how to draw. Maybe wanting to impress my parents, she sat down with me and taught me how to draw Garfield and a few smurfs. Oh Yeah, she had 100's of them little figurines. Remember them?
“I do, my sister had a bunch. I wasn't much for playing with dolls. As a little girl, I was more interested in making them.” I must have got a crazy smile on my face slightly. “What?”
“Oh nothing, I was just remembering all the texts we shared.” Then a whole other idea struck that grin away.”
“No tell me now, please?” It wasn't a good idea to bring my thoughts to the surface. Not when I was finally with her. It would sour the mood. The urge was strong, one glass of wine was enough, so I topped up her own, fighting urges.
“I remember you promised you'd make me something.” Her smile got coy and she looked into her lap.
“Your wondering if I made a puppet for you, aren't you? Well I did. Thank you. What if I told you that I did things to it?” I started to feel uncomfortable for a few seconds.
“I would be scared, and ask if your a voodoo priestess.”
“Hardy, but did you feel it?” Those coy eyes found mine. Now I didn't know what to think. I swallowed and imagined that it sound loud without any food.
“I didn't do anything to it, relax.” I'm not going to lie, I was returning to calm, but I couldn't make it last for some stupid reason.
“You know, when you were getting impatient with me, on the count I was taking so long to meet you, because of all the struggle of life I was under, I found it kind of odd that our back and forth communications was missing a step, for you to get all upset?” She looked back into her lap.
“What do you mean?” I grabbed a morsel of grub to pause for effect wondering if I was being a dick. All though I didn't drink at all really, it was having an affect.
“What I found odd was that we never talked on the phone. You never asked me to call.”
“You never asked me to call. I don't like talking on the phone.” She seemed to loose some humour.
“Don't you miss phone conversations. I do. I don't understand why loads of people are repulsed by the idea. I have unfollowed people on twitter, for suggesting phone conversations are vile. People, whose ideas I respected. That is a fucked up idea. Now work places think that it is perfectly fine to fire people through our technology, and that to me is super fucking cowardly. A true sign of the decay of our whole system. I imagine receiving that kind of message, or zoom call even, would leave you feeling degrade. That is straight up, work place harassment.
“You are beautiful with words. I was enjoying them. Now it is my turn to change the subject Mr. Procrastinator.
“Weren't you curious to hear what I sound like?” I didn't like the feel of my smile taking over.
“What did you draw after learning how to draw the smurfs?” She said without humour.
“You know, I don't believe, not wanting to talk on the phone is a generational thing either. I know of people our servers age that call on me the all the time.
“They call you?” Janet looked up at me and moved some food around on her plate.
“Sure. People I have worked with and got to know pretty well.”
“How well?”
“Nothing happened if that where you're leading. I know people, who I have been close to for decades and they would rather looses a leg that pick up a receiver. I remember when there was a shift in opinion. I used to get high with this guy who still had a flip phone, when the first apples came out. He wanted to talk on the phone with people in his life. They weren't having it. As he would say, were forcing the text on him.”
“Might have something to do with the individual.” I could feel an eye, wanting to flash narrow glaces, but I refused.
“Sure, there might be something to that. I was a manager at a health club at the time and I remember watching the idea, bounce back and forth between the young ones, I had hired and all their friends. There was two different camps forming, as if it was political battle. Texting final dominated. I imagine the fact that, two teens could be all catty in secret, to one of their friends who standing with them all, could figure in somehow. I saw loads of that.” She looked around the room at the people we were seated in between.
“I can call you now if you like?” Alright smart ass stop, came quietly into mind.
“Sorry, just things I consider, out of the blue and for no reason. I don't remember what kind of things I was drawing next, but I'm sure art resurfaced in my last days of grammar school. Class mates securing an urge that I forgot. It wasn't until high school that I took it seriously. I had good teachers. It makes a world of difference. I know you're a good teacher. I remember you talking about your students with much affection. Mr. Champion, he reinforced that art was something that I might consider taking more seriously. Oh wait no”, I shifted in my seat reminisced. “it was in grade seven. I had an amazing art teacher that year. Our first lesson was on perspective and I got all horny because I was actually learning something.” A little smile returned.
“That made you horny?”
“Everything made me horny. He was one of the best. He drew along with us on the black board, leading us through every step. Starting with the horizon, then marking off the vantage points, and in the end we filled in a small town street. First day in his class. I remember it like it was a week ago.” The lights returned, and now I was super curious what happened to her on the phone. “Then, when I should have been finishing high school, in a fit of frustration I decided to go to art school.”
“After high school?”
“No It was kind of random. Hard knock life and what not.” I finished the wine in my glass.
“That was ages ago. This is part of the problem. I have not been creative in decades. I will have to start from the beginning. And that is, a scary though.”
“You want to know something? Pablo Picasso, live for that fear of beginning again, but of course he also believe that you had to find yourself working. I love his idea that every child is an artist, the struggle is to remain in a child's mind as you grow.” I sank a little into my seat and though about rubbing my belly.
“I wonder with all our marvellous gadgets, some how are we killing the wonder instinct? There was a time, the mothers I knew, all complained about the frustration there wee little children felt at the idea, they didn't know how to do a thing instinctively. They get all mad. I come to find that is the best way to learn. It's just the way things work inside the head. You have to work through the distress. That's when real learning happens. Do you ever wonder where the seed of thinking you have to know everything now, originates from? I wonder if it has something to do with our entertainment, and how it's so filled with criticism? Do you think all those TV shows about work, where some boss screaming at some poor sap, that he can't do anything right, has any thing to do with it? Or are they just another vehicle that the sentiment of work place harassment breeds?”
“How do you think a TV show encourages you act like an ass at work?”
“Mirroring. Whenever that First Hangover movie came out, I worked in a hotel. Every weekend there a few weddings. By the end of the night, after the drinks stopped, somebody was all bout tell the staff, 'how they bought out the place' and would act like they owned it. The thing is, when you own something don't you respect it? Simple suggestion is a powerful thing.”
“You do it on purpose don't you? Do you love to draw?” This was an odd question that made me think. I love the idea of it.
“Huh, I don't know? As we sit here, the idea's filling me with anxiety. I don't know where to start. Last time I was creating full time, I remember having to push myself to stay in the seat sometimes. You know, the sometimes when it's a toil. When you're working on a repetitive and tedious action. I didn't really enjoy the business hustle side of it, at first.”
“I try to feel as though the tough times are the same as difficult mediation. Working the struggle as a growth exercise. Exercising the perseverance muscle. I find the action of the process to be healing. I have been crafty and creating since I remember though, so that might have something to do with it. I enjoy the tough times. When I'm having difficulty working it all out on canvas, relating what you see in your mind's eye. I believe it makes the destination of the finished painting feel more special. I like the words of Picasso, that a magnificent start can be disastrous. I am in it for the experience of the journey. I have an idea of what it might look like, but I love not knowing what's going to land on the canvas. Is this book the last thing you worked on?”
“No there has been a few false starts since we met online. It all started with the faces when you introduced the idea of your practice.
“I remember, you sent me some pictures. Man, I was impatient with you not wanting to see me. I remember the first ones looking all basic and clumsy. I remember kinda getting a little bitchy with my texts.” She let off a little laughter. “But then they turned. They started to look almost melodic as you started to find realism. I still have them.”
“Get out. Figured you would have erased all memory of me?”
“I though about it but I love art. I live to watch its progression in my students. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I was fond of you, even if you where being a snob. Tell me more about these false attempts.”
“Huh. Well there was a purchase of a few styluses for computer and the phone. They have hardly been touched. Opentoons, an animation program, that I haven't learned the ins and outs of as yet got downloaded. Let me see, there have been a few stints of drawing on the phone, the idea of frustration, working on learning new tools, landed me in some ink drawing.
“Well now isn't that interesting, you mean with an ink well?” It was my turn to ask,
“What do you mean?”
“Even though you want to turn your back on the old art making ways, you are all frustrated because you where having problems finding your flow with the new applications, you turned to one of the oldest ways of drawing. Why didn't you choose markers, or art pens? Ink that is all the way old school.” I stopped to think about that. I never considered, why? “How did you find drawing pictures, the way Mozart wrote music? Explain to me what your process looks like?”
“I like that idea. I'm just trying to find the music. I don't find a similarity with drawing in loose ink, and working with pens. I follow a foundational pencil drawing when using them.
“What are you inking onto?”
“Legal paper. It started with scribes and then moved into timed one minute gestures, of other artist's work I teefed from the internet. I feel kinda guilty about the thievery.
“All good artist steal, you should use Picasso as mentor.”
“I suppose. I love his work and the work of his compatriots. I find myself wondering if the confusion in the worlds they interpenetrated, was a warning of ensuing chaos. Could they see a rocky road in the path the powers have set us all one to?”
“Focus the mind. Rid yourself of distraction. Stay with me on the topic of ink wells.” She was talking like a Television guru. I was wondering if she busted out some typical disciplinary porn dialogue, would be more effective? Patented leather hooker boots couldn't hurt. I shook my head. Shes right focus.
“Are ah, it sure is fun to watch the progression improve. There is something to be said, in drawing a line once and not being able to erase it. It was almost a freeing concept. As if correction is some kinda crutch.”
“Oh my god why did you stop? How many of these pages did you go through?”
“I don't know? They get a flip through now and again. I can't help but go over them every so often. I'm fantasize of some surrealist ideals and water colours, you know filling out the pages further, but, is that taking way from me realizing how to resolve my conflict with the future?”
“Do you believe you are in control of your process or does it control you?”
“That is a good question. I was painting the face of Miles Davis once, by brother laughed and said something about, I had to do something about all my pent up anger. My jazz man's face turned into a whole different colour.” Janet's eyes seemed to be searching.
“Why did I stop?”
“I don't know, the stress of life I suppose?” My own eyes were on a horizontal rock, finding nothing. “Bout 100 images or so I's say.”
“Did stopping help your worry at all?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“How about when you were playing in the ink, did you find that work calming?”
“Sure, I though you were a teacher not a social worker?” We both chuckled.
“As a teacher I like to think I'm a bit of both. Animation programs, what was your intent when you downloaded them?”
“I always liked the idea of it. I read a few books about how it was done in the old days. The ins and the outs and around the process. And as I said, it is so much easier now a days. You don't to mess with glass panels and film cameras. An animation studio fits on your computer. Doing your own promotion is free, and distribution is a click a way.” Her smile was huge, like she was trying to hold back words. “Don't get me wrong, me no slouch y'ah know. I have collected books on how to draw, with the hopes they would inspire. Remind the eyes how to retrain the hands to interpret what they want to see. I even have a strategic plan to learning to create, in a world that is not.” I stressed the final word.
“Oh my god explain to me what that looks like please?” I smiled.
“Except for working in acrylics, I always start with timed gesture drawing. It has always been of people. To get use to the oddity of working with the new tools, I am thinking small, like thumbnails. Start drawing stylie rooms and cool house exteriors. Induce a novel state of mind through practice. Work on telling storyboards with stick figures and get them moving around. I like the idea of dance. Everything to do with it. Man I miss moving for the love of music. It has been so long, I know I would suck at shaking a tail feather. Anyways, when all that comes easy, start filling out bodies, put them in some crazy gear. Throw them into situations. I don't know.
“Oh don't stop, you have put a little though into this. Shows me the soul is willing.”
“Process was once explained to me following an analogy of epilepsy, by a fellow I met who had artist as parents, that always stuck with me. I find your question of control might stick in mind. Maybe I have used this idea as an excuse a little bit. Anyways, eventually these stick figures will have to grow. These skeletons will need anchors, I like forming a base from the pelvis and balance off the tops with chest shapes following the spine lines. Triceps and forearms, ankles and calf, balanced with elbows and knees directing arrows to describe their movement, as I get used to their character. Faces will return eventually.
“Tell me a way, this experience is ensured?” The smile on my partners face seemed absolutely devilish. I sighed,
“Well, with everyday engagement silly, you are trying to escort these conclusions into my subconscious aren't you.
“I don't think so. Maybe I am helping you reaffirm ideas you are already playing with. I like to think of it as summoning the action?”
“I like it. That's why I though your help would be essential.” I licked my lips again. “Matching body styles, with character faces. Give them some style and some attitude. Get to know who I wish them to be, by drawing them over and over with the anticipation that soon enough, the might start talking to me.”
“Oh my god and what would they say to you?” Her smile was becoming familiar. I was enjoying encouraging it.
“Well once they allow me to control their actions and express ideas, I imagine they would start soap boxing, all the ideas I have been considering over the years. You know the words I have collected. She seems like such a long road, from us sitting here, to a time they finally speak.”
“I want you to say the opposite of that idea now. No need for negativity there is too much of that in this world. No waiting, say it now.” I looked at the hands in my lap. I could feel a sheepish grin growing.
“Umm, looks like the two of you enjoy Nacho Mama. I like to see empty plates.”
“Look who it is. That was so good, wouldn't you agree Janet?” I couldn't help the feeling of relief. My new friend agreed.
“You'll have to give our compliments to its creator.”
“Oh I will. That will make his day. Would the two of you like to see the menu again or do we know what we're having?”
“You know what, we are stuff. They were so good I think we'll just take the bill.” Sarcastic questioning started to from in mind, that had to affect my stupid grin. Corina almost looked disappointed.
“Ahh, well I am glad you enjoyed what you had. I will grab your bill.”
“You didn't want anything else did you?” I snickered inside as Janet turned all rhetorical. The contradictions raced through my mind, as I watched Janet's wild eyes. Without waiting she continued, “You were going to say something.” Action poured out of me automatic.
“I can't wait to reach that point.” The determination on her face didn't change.
“Until you reach which point?” She accentuated her final word. Surprisingly the idea of a strong woman, being all demanding, aroused a strange feeling around me. Wasn't I already entertaining those kind of ideas? Man now they are just going to fester.
“Until I reach the point where my drawings talk to me.” A sigh came to intimidate. This was not comfortable at all, as Janet raised her voice a little. Could she realize her effect on me?
“Say it again.”
“Oh you're good at this, I will enjoy the process of making the faces I draw, talk.”
“I would love to watch your evolution.” What remained in the bottle we were drinking from, mostly emptied into the glass before Janet. I was being responsible, but I needed a taste for myself. To help assess the rushing emotion within me. I couldn't help, but see Janet without an alluring halo, absorbing her mischievous smile. I was lost in my rushing thoughts. This stupid smile. I couldn't wait to meet the puppet she made for me. I was anxious to dive into some art. I couldn't wait to kiss her. All these ideas were building on the other, and for the first time, in a long time, I was feeling refreshed. I am starting to believe this concept of fresh thinking. A way from the chaos that we all find our lives in, for what ever reason. Sure it's the wine, the yummy food, the servers smile, and my pretty company, but still, I couldn't shake the feeling, this idea of new perspective is an important state to explore.