what rakish and daring exploit was I going to write about?
it seems to have totally slipped out of my mind this morning
as I settle in to my studio moving the four bicycles I have there
to accommodate my sitting to attack the keyboard which records
my inner wanderings and thoughts into its virtual library.
I try to fight off the distractions of others’ noises in pursuit
of their own agendas and mysteries on this fine and sunny
summer Monday morning just past the hour of nine.
This is the time I’ve determined is the best if one has to
travel about on errands — Most who start at nine are there
and those that started earlier are taking their first break
so the roads are quieter now after the rush while everyone
seems to have gotten out of my way just for me and a few
others who also have this figured out — aah, ain’t life great.
But I’ve still not recalled the event I wanted to chronicle
perhaps a diversion into something else is in order
it was something I know so well and can recall every detail
but at the moment its gone just beneath that surface film
that can more than cloud these memories in some shadows
cast by what I don’t know.
____________
So after a diversion I still can’t recall so will be on my way
to return later when that thought returns for real. so long for now.
_____________
It was around 1967 when I shared a painting studio
in the abandoned Collins building downtown
in Seattle’s skid road
I built a small car out of cardboard boxes
to look like a child’s drawing of a car — boxy
it was covered with large pieces of newsprint
I’d gotten from my uncle who worked at the Times
and painted bright pink with black lines
and in the driver’s side window
was pasted a print of Ruben’s Child
and of course there were wheels and bumpers and lights
I took it down onto the street below
and set it into a parking space and paid the meter
We watched from our fourth floor window
as cars stopped to park then seeing it — drove on
This must be street theater we thought
so ventured out into other neighborhoods
In the U-District we again parked the bright little boxy car
and sat in a restaurant across the street to watch
It was beautiful to observe this child-styled artwork
in its contrast with the mundane surroundings
and to witness others’ amusement and wonder
at what and why this anomaly was
In a moment when our attention was diverted
by our conversation or coffee
we suddenly noticed the car had been removed
and was headed up the street in a meter maid’s cart
By the time we got out onto the street it was nowhere in sight
so, dejected we walked back to our car just up the block
As we passed by a small City storefront office we stopped
because there just inside on the floor
was our little pink child-styled car offering yet another contrast
that caused us to laugh and thrill at this circumstance
We entered immediately and inquired as to what it was doing there
since we had indeed paid our fare at the meter
and exclaimed that just because our car was so different
was no reason it should be impounded without notice
I wish this tale had a more exciting ending
like a day in court or perhaps some media coverage but alas
We were sent on our way without prosecution
since after all it was only art — hummph.
And this is the kind of thing that made Andy Warhol
and others famous while we trudge on in obscurity
Having fun and creating anomalies whenever and wherever
we can leaving no footprints and packing out our wastes.