Wednesday after class, I hung around school, and worked late into the night; until 4. I slept at school, then went home to prepare food to share for a thanksgiving that I'd been invited to by Cindy, a PAFA student who is older and has had a full Nursing career, and is a world champion weightlifter. When I bring up the weightlifter, she puts in qualifiers like 'in my age, in my division, in my weight class', an I say 'no, you're a champion. You're the best one'. her flight to the world championships was delayed. The event was in Australia, and she arrived just in time for weigh in, and she was livid. She funneled that rage into her lifting and won first place.
I made cauliflower and kale, with garlic. Cindy picked me up from PAFA and drove me to her house (and later back). I met her immediate family which consisted of her husband, her daughter of 26 who was studying 3d computer graphics modeling, her son of 29 who studied sustainable ag and was bound to go live in Maine too, her oldest son of mid-thirties and his wife who were about to move to Naples Florida for the husband to work as a private chef for some rich guy, and her sister and niece, and her adopted son and his family, and the two dogs. Cindy cooked and all of the food was incredible. All of the staples appeared, in addition to a vegetable pie, which has to be my new favorite food.
Cindy texted me later to say that I was a welcome presence and that her kids enjoyed talking with me, (which was a super welcome thing to hear because I didn't know if I was pestering them). Thanks Cindy.
The next day I slept until 2pm, then went to my girlfriend's house, whereupon I slept until 6am this morning. Frances and I (oh yeah, dear reader, we got back together, it's been good for a couple months. I told her I make a better boyfriend the second time around, which is true, and although all of my red flags remain, namely the no wife, no kids, art first, we've had a mutually beneficial thing going), split in the morning to reconvene after lunch. We met at PAFA, then took a train to a suburb to go to one of her friend's pie eating event- basically thanksgiving leftovers pie-feast. It was okay, but admittedly one of those things that could put stress on a relationship, as I felt the clock ticking and the small talk was dull; despite a foray into death as a subject.
The choice not to talk about race around those who have built an identity around race reparations, work etc. hung heavy. Like I'm down to talk about race, and what we can do, but there were straw man stories that went nowhere and met with guffaws which is basically what's wrong to me. There's no story that can cleanse the shameful practices of breeding or continuing on at all, to me, I think, when I get into those conversations. On the way home I had some excess energy and two co-pie-eaters drove us back to our respective spots- I chose to return the school, wherefrom I write you. They pointed out a public arts project of giant light-up poles in the middle of the median on Broad street. Why do we need giant light-up poles down Broad Street? We went a few blocks and I said, 'yeah, I hate those lights', and I was not met with acceptance, but rather 'what, those lights?' and referring to the civic center. 'Well, those lights to are a sin'. And Frances might have smiled at the grumpiness, and I think I mentioned somehow the plastic continent in the ocean, and that that's what we need to weigh our actions against, and that was my big point for the night.
The end.
So I have to do these comics, and they're driving me mad, because they are contextualized under 'Adult Supervision', which either means they're lewd or profound, or a combination, or potentially offensive, etc. we chose this I imagine to give us a lot of headroom concept wise, but egads it's a loaded gun. So I'm writing a little bit to get some of the wiggles out, and hopefully I'l get a good rhythmic set of panels up off the ground that I can work with. In the meantime, a bunch of disjointed parts, Kemeys.
