I've been trying to paint this long weekend while J was gong with his dad to Tucson. Ex will be home another 10 days or so until he returns to Iraq for two more months. December. I hope life will return to normal in December and I get to stop dealing with his wife.
So, I've painted close to home, close to the place with the showy clouds from a few weeks ago. I did one Saturday of a small clump of trees. I wasn't quite happy with it, so I decided to go back yesterday, chose a different angle, decided on bigger paper which would also take longer, went a little earlier.
I was so happy with how it was progressing. I'd chosen a different angle and the colors were spectacular. Then I hear commotion and I realize I am busted. My car and I are about 200 yards into a cut through road that is apparently off limits. Well, that's what both the sign I ignored and the security guard said.
At first, he wanted me to leave. He told be to go to a park barely down the road. I asked, for future reference, where that park ended and where the restricted area began, saying, "This clump of trees isn't down there." Then I asked where I could park around there, if I could walk back over. Finally I offered to move my car across the street, where he'd indicated. Then he asked how much longer I'd be and I said 45 minutes, but definitely before the sun goes down. So he said to stay.
THE SUN IS MOVING, PEOPLE. I DO NOT LIKE IDIOTS TO WASTE MY TIME WHILE I PAINT.
However, I think he had ulterior motives to dither away every bit of my allotted 45 minutes. And then some, because it was dark before I was freed.
This guy started in how he lived in New Zealand and liked the painters, how mine would fit in. Then he talked at length about living in Germany and Finland. And his various women, where they went, what they saw. Then he started in about his athletic careers and how he performed overseas. He asked if I did portraits; he wants one of a sports action picture he had. (I referred him to my pastel teacher, then he worried how much someone like that would cost.) Oh, he has Wiki entries in two sports, which he wrote down for me to check and then call after I looked. He's from the next state over and has only lived here two months. He has an Associates and a Bachelor's in Criminal Justice. And how people are racist and how bad this election will be, either way. And the economy is bad, too. And Armageddon is coming, so I should get a concealed weapon permit for while I paint outside, because one shouldn't bring a knife to a gun battle. And lots more religion. And he asked me if I could cook. And more religion.
You get the picture. I guess he's ADD and I should have some sympathy, but he fucking would not shut up. Yet he was the authority figure and I felt I had to tow the line. Oh, and I'm representing myself as an artist with a business thingy now, so I had to be professional. I'd given him my card as part of the early exchange when I was trying to establish myself with him. Yes, the man has my name, phone number, blog, and email address.
Guess where I'll be before sunset again today. Please, Good Lord of the Traveling, Religious, Athletic, Diarrhea-of-the-Mouth Security Guards, let me unto myself.