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Monthly Archives: November 2015

Real-time update: This minute I’m at the main branch of the Phoenix Public Library. I’ve just typed the following message to Mike, the RemX agency liaison for ECS: “Mike, just to let you know: I have accepted a job at the airport. I want to keep working for RemX/ECS, but my only available day, near term anyway, is Tuesday.” And I’ve just thumbed the SEND key. With such mundane actions a life’s course diverts.

My new employer, SSP America, has fine-dining establishments in more than two dozen countries spanning the globe. I chanced on their Craigslist ad last week, waited my turn for an interview, and was hired on the spot for a cashiering position, which I learned yesterday was with Matt’s Big Breakfast, in Terminal 4 near the B gates, and past the security checkpoint. My previous post “certifiable” included an image of the Food Handler’s Certificate I was required to earn in order to get the job. And today I learned that “cashier” is only a partial description of the job.

But: it’s a job at SKY HARBOR INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT. Second busiest airport in the country, I’m told. And I’ve been in love with Sky Harbor since I was shorter than the countertop at Circle K where I plunked down my penny for Bazooka Joe bubble gum.

The real change in my life, I’m hoping, will be new fodder for my images, poetry and fiction. But for now I’m just savoring the two sweetest words in the English language: “You’re hired.”

 

 

Friends, I have not stopped drawing, but I have stopped drawing well. I have lost my groove. It will come back in time and with perseverance, but little I do lately is worth the second out of your life it would take to see it. Here are two that are of at least clinical interest:

banana

Here is a near-disastrous foray into oil pastels and ink. It’s OK for the preservation of some ideas, but the execution is awful.

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horses

Here’s a sketch I did today in preparation of a possible collaborative effort, a children’s book inspired by that little girl who took a “runt of the litter” horse and won a hundred-thousand-dollar purse in harness racing. Many, MANY more sketches must follow it the effort is to be at all successful.

Back to the drawing board. It’s not that “I got nothin'”–it’s that “I got nothin’ good enough.” Luckily, for a while, I have Time. And it’s Time to get more Determination.

 

Here’s another story I’ve submitted to postcardshorts.com. One of the puns was cheerfully lifted from an old READER’S DIGEST joke, but I trust I altered it enough not to infringe.

When Time Ran Out the Back Door

We were frozen. We had not run out of time, but Time had run out the back door of our virtual ranch-style home. We still perceived, because Time’s little brother, Minnit/r/2, kept a noneye on the room.

Ninety sortaseconds passed. Minnit/r/2 said, in his little piping voice, “I wonder what the dealio is. Must be dire. You guys are infrit if–”

But Time then strode back in, and we could breathe again. “Sorry, guy & gals. A black hole happened around. I was dilated to see it, but it gave me a little diss/torsion . . .” and as if to illustrate, Time did a little wavery wiggle.

Minnit/r/2 asked to be excused, and his brother said sure. “Just be back in yourself.”

To celebrate, we bellied up to the   space   bar.

1101151348-00~2

O it may say DO NOT DISTURB
Or warn of kicking to the curb

Perhaps you’ll get a Just Say No
Portending Death — but on you go

Enduring tides & time & tax
Expose the Daemon — then relax

The name of the post is “opened box.” The eponymous acrostic looks like “OPE NED BOX” but the multi-acrostic conventions employed on this blog allow for word-spread across columns. If it makes you feel better, we’ll name the box-opener Ned.

Curiosity has gotten humanity into and out of trouble since before we the human race can remember.

Finally, an analogy intended to pique curiosity: “Pandora’s Box” is to this page what Ray Bradbury’s “Fever Dream” is to Greg Bear’s “Blood Music.”