Tuesday, January 18, 2005

Two Old Junkyard Ladies

I worked at a business that was a sort of hybrid junkyard and nature reserve for this particularly rare species of grass - like, an endangered species of pampas grass. It was about three feet tall, with long-stemmed seed flowers that looked like bottle brush cleaners. There was only one example of it, looking rather dusty and forlorn at the entrance to the reserve. The rest of the reserve consisted of a circular, unpaved drive made of broken concrete and gray gravel that crunched under your feet. The whole place was filled with junked cars in various states of having their guts and sheet metal ripped out and recycled.

I walked along the drive and saw an old man working... bent over, under the hood of a mid-1970s Chevy Malibu. I thought, “you could lose yourself in here.” A little further along, I met two nice old ladies wearing flowered print dresses. We talked about the grass at the entrance and exchanged pleasantries... and although we were standing in a junkyard, it didn’t seem at all odd.

The scene changed, and I was walking home. I had found this odd contraption - more junk - made out of a big glass bottle, clear plastic hoses, and other assorted doodads. I don’t remember what it was for, but I told my Mom (I met her along the street) that it was a still (for making alcohol). I was telling her a lie, because I knew it wasn’t a still. Although I can’t remember what it was really for, I remember thinking that she’d be angry about it. So, I lied and said it was a still. Telling the lie made this thing give off chemical fumes that made me feel giddy and drunk.

The scene changed again and I was working in an office with my friend JS. We were starting a new company and designing its corporate headquarters. The building was to be the Tallest Building In The World. We were making mockups of it out of old cardboard cereal boxes. We were trying to choose between two different patterns for the exterior window frames. One was a series of rectangles. The other was a series of crosses (I drew both patterns when I woke up). We were waiting forever for a print of the patterns to print on a laser printer. I said something sarcastic, like, “Well, of course we have to wait - the printer here runs at the blistering speed of 80 MHz.”

We wanted to paste the prints onto the cereal boxes to see what the building would look like. There was a logo over the front door of the mockup that said “Artist Access.”


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