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2004-02-19 @ 10:20 p.m.
Yentl the Mental

Ever wish you had named your diaryland diary something else? Like in my case Yentyl the Mental or The Witless Protection Program.

So after all that self cheerleading yesterday I didn't hand in any artwork for that artshow. Yeah, I know, fifty lashes with a wet rigatoni. I still actually have a week left. Next Wednesday is the absolute deadline. I actually did get the drawing situated in the old garage sale frame. I had to unscrew the wire because it was screwed in horizontally and the picture was of the portrait nature. And I didn't have any pliers so I was unscrewing this little tiny eye-screw out of this ancient wood frame with my delicate fingertips and cursing a blue streak.

"This is so fucking stupid. I don't even want to do this. Why am I doing this?"

And yet somewhere inside there was this ... little voice saying:

Because you know you want to. You know you want your work hanging in an art gallery. Now shut the fuck up and keep unscrewing that tiny little eye-screw.

It took me so long, I barely had enough time to grab about two bites of a cube steak. Have barely eaten anything in the last few days, thus perpetuating the starving artist stereotype.

I drove my mom's car over to the community center and climbed those familiar stairs. I could feel my framed bubble wrapped art hitting against my leg as I climbed the stairs. My heart was pounding. I was about to expose my work to real artists. gulp. Double gulp. I felt like I had monumental stage fright.

But as soon as I opened the door, all thoughts of submitting my piece totally disintegrated. Poof. Gone. Couldn't do it. Fruck.

And the teacher is so nice too! I know he would have given me his big old hippy grin. And ooh'd and aah'd at the first piece to come in (none others came in last night), but alas, my framed masterpiece remained safely hidden in my art bag. And although the edge of it did stick out and I wondered if anyone could see it, no one looked or asked. And sadly, Art Book Guy wasn't there last night to say, "Hello, what's that stunning piece in your bag...let's have a look-see!!"

So when I took my mom's car back to her afterwards, I told her I didn't hand it in and she said, "Well, that's stupid! What's the point of going to that class, if you're not going to show anyone your work!"

I did do a couple of nice new images in the class last night though. We had a blonde model with a really succulent body. She was easy to draw because of her curves and pretty breasts. Two of the three images were probably as close to decent perspectives as I've ever done. Not sure why I did so well. I was in a very depressed mood.

One image in particular gave me an interesting idea. For some reason when I drew it, I drew it really off center, as in she was only in the left third of the paper. So there is this big funky white space to the right.

So I did the weirdest thing. And this is truly weird.

About three years ago the Filipino mail order whore (my former stepmother) painted me a picture of a blue heron standing amongst reeds in some water. Well, I hate her of course, for what she did to me and my father, and once about a year and a half ago, in a fit of rage, I took her painting out of its frame, and shredded it to pieces. Yet instead of throwing away the pieces, like any "normal" person would, I put them into a baggie. I had intended to send them to her in the Philippines with a post-it on it saying fuck you or something original like that, but I never got around to it. So damn if that stupid baggie of blue heron water color artsy bits hasn't been sitting around on my kitchen table for the longest time. Just sitting there. And I look at that damn thing every day and curse and think about my beloved Dad, and think of ways of exacting revenge on the Filipino mail order whore.

But as my shrink and Married Guy have so amply pointed out, that all is an exercise in futility of course. The FMOW (Filipino Mail Order Whore) has won, and I have lost, and everything is over with. So what to do with the ripped up art pieces? Hmmm.

And then suddenly, I came up with the most amazing, weirdly arbitrary use for those shredded up pieces of anger. Arrange them artfully around the edge of the off-centered nude. Holy crap, what an amazing idea and it looked really cool.

And yet, I was really angry looking at it and was wondering how I could possibly use the FMOW's artwork, in combination with mine, but it looked so freakin' hell stunning. And it might even be something I might be willing to submit to the artshow next week.

Can you imagine? A collaboration with the person I hate more than life itself being part of my art exhibit? I guess the old adage, you have to suffer for your art, might well be applied here.

Can I do it? Well, I do have another 6 days to decide. Six days to back out. Or six days to make it more beautiful. I guess its up to me....Yentyl The Mental. So we'll see.

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty