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2006-06-24 @ 4:29 p.m.
the blue heron book saga

Iím sitting here waiting for some guy, who was supposed to be buying my piece of shit car today, to call. He said he would call noonish and now it four-ish and Iím starting to wonder if heís going to call at all. He works at my momís apartment complex and buys old cars (heís bought all of herís) and then fixes them up slightly and sells them to people over in the Ďhood for a couple of hundred dollars profit. Frankly, I donít care who or where he sells them, just as long as I get some much needed cash in hand. Originally I was thinking of asking about $500. Blue book is $650, after all. Then it went down to $350. And then in the last week, everytime I go into our parking lot and see it sitting there looking like some old rusted out abandoned drug dealer car, I cringe and start thinking....Anybody got a match five bucks?

Itís a beautiful day out, and I would have like to have taken a ride somewhere to go walking... Anywhere to get away from the Garden Hacker, who today, is working directly in front of my apartment. Is he doing it to piss me off? Yeah, I think so. Earlier, I heard loud clattering noises coming from his porch downstairs and then a short time later I could hear dirt being shoveled on the other side of the building. I was afraid to swing the door open, because Iím PMSing and all bets are off if I get angry. So I peeked out and he was digging a large hole over across the creek. Later when he took yet another wheelbarrow full of crap out to the curb on the other side of the building, I made a mad dash to get my mail and looked over thinking that he might be planting some new plants since everything is just dirt now and there was just a big mound of fresh dirt. Great!

Calling Stephen King. Calling Stephen King. I have the character and plot for your next book! And I better get some residuals too, you wealthy bastard.

So, since asshole was busy burying his latest victim on THAT side of the building, I decided to go out on my back porch and paint. I havenít been painting much lately because of my angst surrounding this whole Hacker Guy thing. So I set down on my 1950ís kitchen chair and painted over this ugly thing I had painted at the YMCA (it was a color wheel on one side and mounds of texturing compound on the other side). I decided rather than work on a rock star today (Iím a little burned out), that I would work on something a little more organic and natural, so I got out this book about blue herons that I have. I love it.

About 11 years ago when I got some funding to start a business from the state, I named my company Blue Heron Graphics. It even had its own bank account, albeit, a small one. I just did graphics for small newspapers. Thatís actually how I got to know Married Guy. I had been working for this women on a gaming newspaper, but she wanted me to be able to print out 11X17 pages which I couldnít do and a couple of other things and I lost the account and Married Guy stepped in and offered me a job as art director for his newspaper. Art Director. Sounds impressive, doesnít it? What it really entailed was trying to pull together 12,000 scraps of paper from Married Guyís folder into some kind of cohesive publication at the last possible second. Whee! How fun! Heíd always end up at my house the night before we had to get it to the printer and heíd be sorting through press releases and typing stories on my computer. I didnít really mind though. It was kinda fun and I was used to dealing with deadlines and I liked watching Married Guy get all irate at how stupid some of our press releases were from this certain Church Lady.

So where was I? Oh the Blue Heron book of photos. Well, I love my little blue heron book, but it was stolen away from me, if you can believe it. By my father! Bad Dad! Bad! I love my Dad to pieces of course and when he was alive I would have done anything for him. But once when he was visiting I had just gotten the Blue Heron book and I guess his wifie, the filipino mail order whore was going through a phase where she liked to paint blue herons. And my Dad saw this book and admired it. And then the day he was leaving to go back to Roanoke, Va. I saw him packing his suitcase in the living room and then surreptitiously slip MY Blue Heron book into his suitcase. I couldnít believe it. I didnít say anything of course, because after all, it was my beloved Dad and it was only a cheap bargain book from Waldenbooks. But I was just a tiny bit hurt that he was snatching it for his bitch-wifie and not asking permission.

Later the bitch gave me a water color painting of...what do you think?? A blue heron standing in water in this stunning, expensive gold leaf frame. I never put it up because I didnít like the painting. The blue heron looked like he had just eaten 300 pounds of catfish. It was way too short and fat and looked dumb.

And then much later, after all that happened with her mistreating my Dad when he had Alzheimer's and changing the will and being a general evil devil woman, I took the painting out of the frame and just shredded the hell out of it.

Yay me! Always the very model of self-control!

Oh, so the painting I did today....the blue heron. See, I get sidetracked by stupid things that happened years ago and then short circuit. Anger is so stupid sometimes.

So I went down to Roanoke the last time I saw my Dad in 2001. He was going to give me what turned out to be my only inheritance. A tiny cheap corner bookcase, a microwave cart, a VCR and a six foot tall particle board bookcase. Howís that for a guy who sold his house for almost a million dollars and drove a Mercedes? Thanks filipino mail order whore.

Anyhoo, when the bitch was cleaning out the bookcase to put it in the moving van, what do I find? My little $1.98 clearance Blue Heron book stuck in with their books. So what did I do? I grabbed it, of course. I just slipped it under some random shit and carried it back upstairs and put it into my suitcase. You know, since it was mine. I suppose that was pretty petty of me to do that, but hell, when did I ever admit to being anything less than human?

So today, because I was able to recover my favorite little $1.98 clearance rack Blue Heron book from the evil mail order whore, I bring to you my latest piece of art...

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty