Coffee with Vicki

So I'm having coffee with Vicki this morning, not just because she makes the best damned cup of coffee In the world, but because she is a kindred spirit. Although you may think we are an unlikely pair of best friends because we are different in so many ways, we are alike where it counts........we were both dropped off on this planet accidentally when our transport stopped at Sheetz for a hot dog and we somehow rolled out the ass end. She reminds me as I remind her, that we are not alone in the universe. There is little or nothing that we fail to understand in each other. It's all the rest of you that confound us.

Vicki and I are Artists. I say that not to garner a compliment or to pat myself on the back for being gifted. It is only now, waaaaaay in to my forties, that I look on it as maybe sorta uh asset. So we didn't go to business school.......we didn't have long happy marriages........we don't have a retirement nest egg. We got to learn to live the tumultuous life of a creative person. That,my friends, can be quite a fucked up little thing right there. Trust me on this one. Take whatever preconceived idea you may have of the Artist blissfully painting away on a beautiful pastoral scene and shit can it. The reality involves bags of Funyuns and a wretched piece on the easel and the firm knowledge that this whole thing would be a lot easier if you just had some fucking talent.

Vicki and I share the view. That would be the view from the psychic hospital ward, where you are in a full emotional body cast, watching the universal road crew busily filling in the giant pot hole you just fell in, so no one else can get hurt. "You guys couldn't of gotten here yesterday maybe?!?" "No Ma'am.....didn't know the hole was there till you fell in" Alrighty then. Thank you and goodnight. OK....so you get busted up a little....but you get to produce these magnificent........ok so maybe not magnificent...these deeply felt........ok, so maybe misunderstood would be more like it......these universally accepted.......uh........ok so mostly overlooked......uh.......why do we do this again?? Because it's just who we are, or were, when we fell off the goddamned spaceship anyway. Who the hell knows.

So Vicki blocks out the waves of sensory overload by medicating and I wrap myself in acres of extra fat......and medicate.She loses her appetite and I stop at the store for Funyuns and orange soda. In our own individual and unique ways, we are learning to accept who and what we are. I laugh at the many things the gods have chosen not to bestow upon me but never address what they have given me, not the least of which is the ability to bounce when falling from a great height.........and color...and the scratch of a fine brush over canvas. Not such a terrible thing as terrible things go......and we have each other to share all of that creative wonderfulness with that I'm being completely sarcastic about.

My plateau has surrendered......down 29 pounds or 116 sticks of butter. As each layer comes off, a new piece of me resurfaces. Whouda thought there would be so much emotional work to do on a goddamned diet? If I had any fucking talent I might do a painting about it.