2004-05-06 @ 11:00 p.m.
I'll have two arts, over easy

I was already partially there this afternoon, when I realize I had forgotten to bring one of my Portfolio magazines with me for inspiration and plagiarism. Those were the art magazines I had picked up at the garage sale this weekend.

Last night when I finally sat down to look at them, there were more than I thought (eight). And naturally I found a lot of stuff to inspire ol' Junior Art girl here.

Each month the magazine would feature some classical art by the likes or Monet Or Homer Winslow and then some crazy ass weird stuff by someone with a name like Hamster Blue-Nostril that would feature smashed glass and q-tips glued to a rusted tire rim. Of course, I'd get all loopy over the "cool" stuff. Q-tips glue-gunned to a donut rim. cooool.

But since I forgot my inspiration for my art group, I made a quick stop at a small library on the way over. Had to bring back some late videos and CDs and pay some fines anyways. Damn.

Unfortunately, this place is desperately lacking in any good art books. Most of them are classical art-related and the fact that they even had a book about Frida Kahlo was quite amazing. But I've already done Frida for several weeks now, so I decided to pick up this book called "The Portrait of the Blues". It was a photography book chronicling the lives of blues and jazz musicians in the South. It had some great photography in it. And the first photo I opened it up to was of this African American singer named Koko Taylor striking a very dramatic pose in front of a mic.

Well, that was a perfect image for the day, so I checked the book out and took it to the class. Say HI to Koko...

Unfortunately when I took the image on-tour around the Center, like I usually do, everyone thought it was Diana Ross for some reason. This woman outweighs Miss Ross by at least 40 pounds, but whatever. I did add the word JAZZ in Photoshop in case you're wondering. Also wish it didn't appear so fuzzy in Diaryland. Anyways, didn't want Koko to have to sign autographs for Diana Ross inbetween gigs in Buttcrack, Georgia.

Then this evening I headed off to my figure drawing class. Still no Kevin, my future husband guy. Where are you, dearest? He must know I was getting ready to hunt him down for our upcoming nuptials.

It was a small class tonight and our model was a middle aged hippy chick we had one other time. She's really hard to draw for some reason. She likes to strike very dramatic 3-D poses, and I sit there with a pastel in my hand wondering how the hell I'm going to draw her with the correct perspective. And then I think OH HELL, I'm just going to Picasso on yo' ass, and draw boobs coming out of your ear, and draw thighs coming out of your armpit and then it won't matter if its in proper perspective, right?

That's called avoidance, Witty. You're going to have to learn to ACTUALLY DRAW someday. Not do all this gaudy shit.

Our Fearless Art Leader, who facilitates the class, is going to teaching a drawing class in mid-May and I would love to take it, but its $80. I might be able to get the funding from my case management place, but I'd have to come up with it very quickly. Damn. Poverty sucks so bad.

But during the class break I talked to the Original art guy, "J". I told him about my inability to draw hands, and how they always look like lobster claws. He has such lovely eyes. He looks a little like singer James Taylor, except with hair. He said, well, let me see your drawings. I kind of gasped inside, and then said a quick no. Hope it didn't come off as harsh. But then he offered to let me come over and look at his drawings. He's an excellent artist. He told me a little about drawing perspective and measuring things out (see, that will definitely be a problem. I have no measuring ability whatsoever. I can't even do my checkbook).

I felt very quivery and nervous standing so close to him and talking though. He was my original object of desire when I first started going to the class, and then I finally realized he was probably gay and I was barking up the wrong tree....again.

But he can still be a nice person to talk to and have as one of my helpful art allies.

So I've also been getting some a little attention from another guy. The obnoxious French guy Charlemagne. He's very loud and actually pretty funny. I've had crushes on obnoxious people before. I guess I admire people with chutzpah. Anways he's been talking to me now the last couple of weeks and tonight we met in the unisex bathroom to wash our hands at the same time and he said, "Is your hair different?"

Of course to a shy girl, who feels invisible, that a guy would even NOTICE that my hair was different (it wasn't by the way, I think it was a "line" on his part), made me feel good. He even announced his age tonight...43. I'm 46, that could work.

Oh wait, he's obnoxious.

Oh, and he also poses nude. Did I mention that? I haven't witnessed this event yet. He posed one night when it was snowing in February and I didn't go to class, but evidently he came out of the restroom, in the buff with some angel wings strapped to his back. You know, as in cupid on St. Valentine's Day. This story, by the way, is second hand, so I'm not sure how true it is, but since seeing his behavior in class, I wouldn't doubt it.

So I'm not sure what will happen when he does pose nude again, and I'm there. I know, at some point, he'll most likely aim his mighty love handle straight at me and I'll get all flush and nervous and probably have to say a novena or something.

Besides, what do you say to a naked guy? And this guy is pretty cocky, if you'll excuse the pun. I definitely won't know where to look or what to draw that night. I might even have to take a clonopin or go in the bathroom and "relieve" myself with a quickie.

Did I mention guys with confidence really turn me on? I guess its because I don't have any and it seems really exotic and somewhat dangerous. Just as long as they don't cross the line into obnoxiousness....like the French guy, most likely would.

Why am I going on and on about him? Uh oh. I must be drunk on pastel dust or something.

Well, its late. I didn't get to sleep until 3:30 a.m. last night and then my mom woke me up with a phone call this morning. This seems to be a new pattern. Let's break it, ok momsy?

Here's to art, and all the doors it seems to be opening. Yay!

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