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| I like showing my pictures where people meet to eat and drink. I'd been noticing the bare blue wall in Bagel Oasis for some time before I finally decided to do something about it. I had a box of unsold prints from last summer's OK Hotel hanging just sitting forgotten under the booth, so I brought 'em down and showed the workers. They said, "You'll have to talk to Thom, the manager. Come back tomorrow." I waited a week, then went down yesterday on my way to meet Sarah at Kwanjai Thai for lunch. Thom laughed at the humping dogs but said no to them and Walter Pigeon. He liked the others and asked if I needed a ladder. There I was again--hungover, standing atop a ladder, arm trembling high above head trying to hammer a thumbtack into concrete wall with a chipped swiss army knife, sweating profusely, dizzy, having an out of body experience. I rolled up the photos and said, "I'll be back tomorrow." This time I came prepared: little nails, a hammer, and Sarah there to help me get it straight. After that we went to her studio, scoped out which wall to project april 21st's multimedia show & tell against, and smelled flowers. Leaving, I suddenly noticed I no longer had my box of prints. I'd forgotten them at Bagel Oasis. Crossing 36th Street, I was sad to see an older man being helped to his feet, legs weak, broken bicycle helmet in his hand--Styrofoam shell cracked in half, Giro helmet wrap ripped away on impact. He seemed OK, however, just a cut above his cheek. I walked into BO and there was the box, right on the counter where I'd left it. As I write this, Sarah's looking over my shoulder: She says, "'Cut above his cheek' means he fell on his face." Yeah, probably, but who wants to think about head injury? When I told Anne about it later she asked, "Big Old Stasis?" Ah! The truth lurks in things misheard and Freudian slips. How many times is a song improved by a substitute word? Our attempts at understanding mask much bigger questions. Behind every work of art is a wall and the dreamer always wakes up. | |||||||||
