Tuesday, December 16, 2014
Friday, December 12, 2014
ho ha hu
so then, in a flurry that involved a leaky furnace, nights of lost sleep, broken dryer, fixing the basement, and beginning to pack up, what i decided was to just type my original collection of stories, unloading, which was paper, and only available through me, so that, if it were typed up well enough, it would go up on createspace/amazon and be available to the public. this i did, the solemn and serious typing was good for me and a welcome break from a frazzling semester. but i gleaned some insights from it too, as i saw my early esl career up close, and i realized how varied were the sources of my inspiration. and i turned around and wrote another story that very night, last night, one that perhaps has been simmering for a while.
there was a really bizarre accident in the community over the thanksgiving break, in which a 14-year-old boy accidentally shot and killed his 10-year-old brother at a hunting camp where, apparently, a loaded gun was just sitting there. the school was traumatized, though the boy who was killed was one grade above my son, and the boy who shot the gun was one grade above my other son. in other words, the boys knew the kids, or at least knew who they were, as it's a pretty small school. and i have two sets of boys, four years apart each, so my ears came straight up as i listened for the details, but, as it happened, i knew more than most of my fellow parents out on the playground, most of whom were horrified and anti-gun in general. the community, however, is pro-gun, and i think you could say this about texas in general; almost all texas news channels underplayed the incident, touched it briefly, mentioned that it was an accident. a british newspaper, however, played it up, obtained and provided pictures of the family, pictures of the kids, etc. it was like, if you wanted to see what this kid looked like, you had to go to the british rag. i, however, wanted to know if i knew them (i didn't). i also want to know how any of the possible players in it, the 14-year-old, the father, even the mother - can even live with themselves; i certainly couldn't. it was a horrible, unspeakable tragedy.
i have one argument when it comes to gun control, and that is that it would be much easier than we imagine. we have the technology to prevent you from turning on your car when you're drunk, and to make sure the police know where you are at every moment. we now have chips that help us know where our keys are at any moment. we could very easily apply this to guns, so that every owner could find his/her gun at any moment, and know if it was loaded. so that, presumably, a gun hanging around a hunting cabin, if it was loaded but the owner was elsewhere, it would be shining a little light that made that a little obvious. or, so that you'd have to type in a password (as you do on your phone) before you are able to kill someone. we do that with cars, although it's usually in the form of a key, as the first gate.
so i spend my days hanging around the schoolyard, as my kids are fanatic hang-from-the-monkey-bar kind of kids, except the one who gets bored easily, and i talk to these other parents a lot, but because i'm outside a couple of hours every afternoon, and then walk about three miles at night, i'm pretty healthy, and sleep very well. i've been working on my stories a little, as i've said; i may have two sets out pretty quick, one a reprint of the old 2005 unloading, and another new one, not finished yet. a possible boxcars on walnut in storeboughten form; and finally, the 2015 e pluribus which i'm very proud of, and have been working on for a while. i'm also renovating my webpages, and adding a lighthouse tour. this will give a person a tour of my webpages, some of which i'm still proud of.
packing is big. i'm thinking, maybe i can find some old stories in there, to add to my collection. i'm trying to make the new unloading a kind of retrospective, a history of my own story-telling, stretching right on back through my esl years. stay tuned!
Friday, December 05, 2014
Wednesday, December 03, 2014
i saw an IL license plate right away, and eventually saw a few more exotic ones, but usually you don't see much on this trip; it's so far for people to drive just to get from any eastern state to the dry corner of new mexico, that you don't see much more than NM, AZ, TX, maybe CO. this time I saw CA, WA, OR, and a few more. eventually I saw NJ, MO, UT, AL, FL, and even AK. there were a few people out there.
it's been a busy time; we've been worrying about moving as we might move about five blocks, in mid-january. this upcoming move will give us the same size house, but better layout, quieter, closer to school and park, while it's basically the same school and same neighborhood. cheaper, that's the main thing; my wife doesn't want to be chair anymore, and doesn't need the expensive trappings of a chair's house.
high in the mountains there was snow up on the hillsides, but the 9-year-old got altitude sickness at first, and didn't want to play basketball in the mountain air, or do the trestle, even, at first. we sailed by the white sands, even though it was black friday and it's always good to go in there, and we pushed on until we climbed the organs, next mountain chain. when we got down into las cruces it was a fantastic world. the pink sun set on the light-blue organs, and it was actually the peak of their leaf season, and trees in the old downtown area had incredible oranges and browns, imagine a peak of a season at thanksgiving. with the sunset through the organs and all this color, the old part of town was really a little surreal.
but there was another kind of surreal experience. i've always hated malls of all kinds, especially on a black friday of course, when everyone is being unusually greedy or even standing in lines at places like best buy. the las cruces mall is very upscale, a pretty place, and, like ours, has a barnes and noble which, late at night, we decided to go to, in search of a dessert. my son wanted to take a walk around the place; like most of my kids, he's quite a bit more materialist than i am, and this seemed to him to be a good thing to do. the unusual thing about the las cruces mall was that it was quite full, but the white folks in there were less than maybe 5%. there were a few black folks like my son; a few asians, like maybe chinese or vietnamese. the vast majority i suppose you could call mexican-american, but i'm not even sure. they were quite diverse, and they were all acting kind of like people in every mall act. it was the same materialist black-friday kind of evening, but all the people had changed, the white folks weren't around at all, really. maybe they got down there early in the morning, or on thanksgiving.
i like getting away; it gives me a break from intensive grading and parenting which has been overwhelming. lately i go to get the kids at school and i can't help but let them play out there, hanging and swinging and running around, for just about as long as they want. this is almost every day, even when it's cold, and they can't seem to get enough of it, although the boy actually has a few other options that he's interested in. it almost seems like they had none of this, before we got them, and just have a lot of time to make up, to get really used to a new life and play hard and long, directly after school, every day. one thing for sure, they all sleep pretty well, and we like that; but, in the afternoons, i'm spending a lot of time at that playground.
and that's one reason i've become almost fanatic about my poetry. it goes with my lifestyle. i'll be stuck on one state, say washington, or maybe delaware, and squeeze out of my knowledge everything i can, sometimes for days. needless to say it's hardest to conjure up poems about places i've only been at night, or not been to at all, like hawaii. so i do some research when i get the chance, and then, those times when i'm sitting there, i make haiku. i've made about four or five a day for months now; late at night, i add them to the site and to a master list which now is up to almost a thousand. when i get a pure thousand i'll publish the 2015 e pluribus haiku, but my goal is to have a thousand non-repetitive, something in every season for every state, where each state is by itself a full chapter, not heavily weighted toward the ice or the blistering heat or whatever it is i remember so intensely that it permeates every image. so of course there i am, up against the most stubborn of stereotypes, or trying to get some more out of some state that i really don't have much memory of. and then, i get the idea to really put all of my travel experience in there, in whatever form. i don't have to have it be true to the place and time. it's more important, in this case, to have it true to the experience itself, and to represent everything that really happened. this lit a fire and i wrote a bunch more. some of these are places like new york, iowa, illinois, where i already had plenty. but you can't have too many. as i go over a thousand, that gives me more leeway to eliminate ones that have gone stale, or are repetitive.
got back to the turkey, the family, the day of rest, there was no football here. plenty of turkey here, though it was all on sunday, and it's sure to last all week one way or the other. what has really lasted is the desire for a nap. the kids liked the turkey this year, maybe because the girls had enthusiasm for the concept and it just spread around; in earlier years, they wouldn't even try it. we'd make this enormous production and they'd basically run right off and make a huge racket, leaving us a lot of cleaning up. my wife at one point said never again but fortunately this year she came back for at least one repeat performance. and we're good for another year; and, i got my calendar, which was, of course, the reason for traveling, and that calendar will soon be sent around, as i've found my address book. another season, kicked off in only the best fashion. and the days, they're as short as they can get, almost.
Wednesday, November 05, 2014
the girlies aren't too shrewd about getting along with boys, but the boys aren't so good at getting along with them either. everyone tattles, and pinches, and takes liberties with each other's stuff, or maybe their dog. i feel like i have to be a policeman sometimes, but what i really like is when i can back off and let young children just have a childhood, not worry about stuff. their imaginations are really lively, and i think the boys pick up on this and run with it sometimes. i catch them saying weird stuff about their father, and it turns out they are in a fantasy world, not saying anything about me so much as some construct their barbie has, who is a bad father maybe, or in jail like their father. i call out and say, "i'm not a bad father" and they say, "it's not you, daddy, it's pretend." in this way we try to work out what's going on. sometimes in their stories they talk about their "real father" and i have to remind them that i'm good and real, though i might not be their biological father. they can't even pronounce "biological" though, so it's an uphill battle.
the dogs love them, and have decided that they should watch out for all the children, no matter what, even if the children put them in leashes and march them around the house, up and down the steps. dogs are patient and faithful that way. i myself am not so eager to do whatever they request, though i will get them a bowl of cereal, or help them find their shoes.
slowly i've found people who are like me, they publish a little here and there, they try to publicize, they find this world where they're kind of an author but not quite. amazon has made legions of us, self-published, purgatory writers, i think souls' day was made for us, because we live in a world where we can think we are authors on a good day, but on a day when the car needs a new muffler, we know we're not a real author. we're lucky to have time to sit down and write anything, because we have a day job, and we're trying to think of ourselves as writers but really we're fathers, cooks, or teachers, or whatever, anything but the writing we don't have time to finish. in fact i'm stuck on my novel; i haven't done a thing on it in months, though i have some time this weekend, so i'm trying to figure out whether to haul it out and start slogging through it again, one chapter at a time, livening it up, making it consistent with itself, finishing it. the question now is, if it's about st. louis, whether i should incorporate anything about ferguson in it. this is partly because i'm aware that ferguson is ground zero for a reawakening of some kind, a kind of new round of insistence on human dignity and equality, and i'm wondering if i can incorporate that somehow into what is basically a simple murder plot. one of my problems all along is that i haven't really had a purpose, a drive, a reason to write a simple murder-plot novel, though i have a lot to say, and i'm not bad and making things happen quickly and in an entertaining way, and tying them all together in a way. where i'm weak is making real characters, 3-d people who you want to read more about, people who want stuff, so that you read in order to find out if they get what they want. slowly, i'll pick it up. with a story, it's more like a city bus. you get on, then you get off. maybe you remember part of it, maybe not.
for some reason, nobody's on screens this afternoon. they got off school at noon, played a little, came home, but for some reason, it just didn't occur to them. this could be because their brother stayed at school, i don't know. but for whatever reason, they can have the downstairs, have their fantasy, play out some of this violent feeling, these fears, etc., and i just sit here and type away, blog, in peace. outside the dog barks, somebody let her out and forgot to let her back in. that would be me.
Saturday, November 01, 2014
tonight is the big texas game here in lubbock, and because both texas and texas tech are lower-order teams, reeling from terrible seasons, it's mostly a texas-pride kind of drinking holiday; what matters here is that the game is in the evening, so people can drink all day, go to the game, and then drink all night regardless of who wins. as i write it's 20-13 longhorns, but i know mostly because the heartbeat of the neighborhood, the lifeblood, the very air is permeated with the game. i take out the garbage and i can hear the game from the alley, coming from people's radios or televisions. the nature of the traffic will change according to who wins. i'll know when the game is over. football is a religion around here; the fact that all saints' day and the texas game fall on the same day is nothing short of very ironic.
now to me, immersed as i am in making my own holidays, and giving them their own interpretations, i'm mostly interested in this fact: the fall back inception of daylight savings time is falling this year on the cusp of all saints' day and all souls' day. of the two, i consider all souls' day far more serious; we pray for all souls, especially the ones who are caught between, and for the little children, the angelitos, in the case of dia de los muertos which is really a kind of celebration and a time to decorate skulls and make fantastic art. all souls, though, i'm much more into that than just glorifying these old catholic guys like john paul or whoever they make into a saint. i don't want to get caught up in whether some old pope should still be a saint even if he let the nazis do their thing during his reign, or he oversaw an empire that was responsible for hundreds of pedophiles getting away with it and even being protected. i'm not catholic. i just want to take in this beautiful cool weather and pray for all souls, especially the ones who are caught between.
businesses write off thousands of dollars of tax breaks bringing whole kegs down to the campus on football saturday, and then they're in the uncomfortable position of turning down minors who happen to be there looking for some fun, and wearing the tech black and red in order to fit in and have a good time. i saw one guy wearing a texas burnt-orange, and i almost told him, wrong shirt, but he was friendly, as everyone is, and besides, texas has a fairly wide following all over the place. another guy was scalping tickets on university. traffic was compulsive, maybe people were already drunk. police were all over the neighborhood because people like to park illegally and i think they wanted us homeowners to see them and know they were out there watching out for us. by game-time they're gone, watching the game like everyone else. it's all people care about, besides maybe the cowboys. i hate pointing out that football kills people, particularly boys, that kind of puts a needle in their balloon, so mostly i just shut up and sometimes i even talk football because i'm a man and how can you avoid it? fortunately we're kind of lousy because if we were any good, people would get more arrogant and probably expect me to actually know something about it.
hallowe'en, election day, sadie hawkins day, and guy fawkes day all share this little window of holidays, along with all saints' day/all souls' day/dia de los muertos/daylight savings time. but hey, the most incredible thing is the weather and nature itself. nationwide, if you watch the trees, you will see things change from a brilliant, show-your-colors display, absolutely stunning in the northern woodlands, to a kind of burnt-orange brownish color, steadily turning into the earthy brown that they will spend the winter in. some, like the pin oaks, never fully change or hold out well into january. evergreens hold out all winter. sometimes you'll be walking by and some leaf will take it upon itself to just fall, but not fall straight down, rather in that kind of back-and-forth, esoteric gentle way dancing in front of your nose as you walk. high holy days, that's what i call them. this year they're giving us that extra hour, at midnight tonight, though i'll probably be sound asleep, and the occurrence of that hour on the cusp of all saints'/all souls' is i think what makes this the holiday of all holidays. better even than thanksgiving, which, delicious as all that traditional food is, is full of family angst and people trying to drive on ice-covered northern roads. these holidays, hardly anyone even notices. they're all at the game, and they call this weather football weather. they're celebrating a pagan ritual involving concussions and massive amounts of alcohol.
i'm just getting used to dia de los muertos, which involves decorating skulls, and hanging around cemeteries with picnic lunches celebrating and praying for ancestors and the dead. the idea roughly is that death is not to be feared, or hated, or portrayed as dark, evil or controlled by witches and such. these souls are real people, and we need to reach out and join them as they are closer to us than ever. and it's not morbid, or dark, or bloody. one puts roses or other flowers around the skulls and paints them in different colors and the kids get involved, everyone reaches out. not that i have a clue, of course, i just got here. in some border towns or hispanic-dominated areas the anglos have taken to it with a passion. but it seems one has to unravel some of our own twisted ideas before one can have a healthier view of the whole thing. it's not easy, and the candy-bath store-boughten witch holiday just kind of mucks it up.
heard a story about "windy man" the other day. the city of lubbock doesn't go in much for sculpture, or art, or spending public money making things beautiful, but at one point they bought a couple of sculptures of "windy man" and put one of them up in a prominent place. letters poured in to the local newspaper, the avalanche-journal, decrying "windy man" as pagan. in fact, he did look a little like those old decorated-up art figures of god himself blowing the wind, but because it was clearly god-like, but not christian, it must be pagan, and people said it had to go. finally in the middle of the night somebody destroyed windy man with a sledgehammer. maybe they were mad that the city wasn't faster to just give up the thousand-dollar (or whatever) commission on the art, and just throw it away on their own. they're really quite cheap with public money here, and they didn't want to spend it and then leave "windy man" in some city warehouse garage. but in any case, the vandalism, probably caused by someone who had plenty of other problems, affected everyone. lubbock has changed a lot, people say, in the intervening ten years. now they can have art, they say. i'm not sure i believe them, but, fortunately, i'm not putting up any statues. i see a lot of decorative suns around. ok, i guess you can call them graven images, but, they're just suns, too.
sorry to bore you with religion, which nobody really wants to hear, but which always makes for a good fight. out in the alley, cats skittered away as i took out the garbage and put the cars in the garage out of harm's reach. put the bicycle away, too, and i'll lock the doors before it's all over. we live on a busy corner, and all kinds of things happen. and eventually i'll go to bed, the noise on the streets, cars going by, actually comforting me and not keeping me awake in any way. middle of the night, it's one deserted intersection out there, and i kind of like that, it's kind of like christmas break, when we might even get some snow, and it all lies there nice and soft and peaceful, and the students are gone. there are lots of stars here, more even than the small town i moved here from, but there are a lot of medivac helicopters as we live in close proximity to the hospitals. and the police and fire, if they ever get going, we hear them a lot too, and just get used to it. it's game night, and saturday night, and it's a wild college town, things are going to happen. and then, they'll clean it all up in the morning.
Saturday, October 25, 2014
in fact i went to court twice on friday, once to county court in the morning for the adoption and later to the municipal court to finally clear up this speeding ticket i got for going too fast in a school zone, when the sign said speed limit twenty when flashing, but wasn't flashing because it was broken. i'd thought hard about contesting the ticket, and simply telling them if your sign is broken you can't expect people to know the speed limit is twenty. but the day i'd gone into municipal court i got this huge spell of dizziness, walked like a drunk, was barely able to get in the line there at the court, and considered going directly to the hospital but was afraid to even drive. on the spot i decided not to contest the ticket but instead to take the class which allows you to strike it from your record, and now, having taken the class and got my form notarized, was going back to that municipal court to get it cleared up.
in the morning there in the county court, everyone was up early, and we were all dressed up, and the girls were very excited. they had another family in there; i suspect the boys' parent or parents had died or disappeared, and their uncle was taking them in, along with three he already had, and was looking a little haggard and fresh from the night shift. they had a lot of teddy bears for the adoptive family, both adoptees, in this case two boys, and original kids, in this case three others, some younger. the bears disappeared in a hurry. they had to run and get more for our kids. it's not like we don't have enough stuffed bears around, we have millions. they take up corners where space is precious and just sit there being soft and cuddly, and maybe people appreciate them and maybe they don't. i don't.
but anyway the county court was formal, strict, well behaved, and we were all dressed up, though now, having said our vows and told the judge we were all ok with what was happening, we were free to leave. we were parked over by the bail bond place and one of those places had little glass marbles stuck in the building. the kids picked at a few of them and they fell out and glowed in the light. there were others; they were having plenty of trouble, i figure, keeping them on the walls. morning was showing up. the courthouse obviously put the families first to put everyone in a good mood because most of their day was robberies, murders, divorce, etc. we were the diversion, i figure. we were a family who was all ready to say yes, who was charming even when we were noisy, unruly, poorly behaved.
the municipal court, on the other hand, had bars on its windows, and almost everyone who was there, by definition, was a little angry about some ticket they had gotten. one teen had spent a day in jail and she was like, whatever, i'll pay the money, just let me out of here. several were like me. they had sped or somesuch, and taken the course, and the course is a good idea, they want you to take the course, mostly because if you behave for a year everything is ok on your record, but the big thing is, if you behave for a year you get in the habit of behaving, and pretty soon you just behave because that's the habit you've got yourself into. so they say, take this course, oh yeah you still gotta pay a few hundred bucks but whatever, take the course and everything is cool. one guy wanted to pay on installments, twenty bucks at a time, but they wouldn't let him, they'd give him an extension, but they wanted the whole couple hundred bucks or they wouldn't strike it from his record. this time i wasn't dizzy. i had all the paperwork. i wanted to be done with it.
today was all tennis and soccer. the tennis started at eight in the morning, and my son won a lot, so that made it a good day, it all looks better when he wins, even if his opponents are slightly wacko. later in the afternoon it was soccer and swimming. it was a bright blue-sky day, no wonder everyone's in such a darn good mood, late october the weather is stunningly gorgeous, you can go outside day and night, there's an economy, people are busy and happy doing whatever it is that they want to do. they seem to be friendly because they're used to the way things are and things usually aren't so bad, though even the best of us end up in court every once in a while with those speeding tickets, since they're out there pulling over nearly everyone they can. but that's just the way things are. it's still a great place, anyone can tell you.
Friday, October 17, 2014
i was walking three miles a night barefoot, this was back before the rains, in the summer when there was stickers and dog poop, and then i upped the tempo. i ran half the track, about half-k, every time i caught my breath until i'd been running three or four half-k's a night, then five or six. but at night, middle of the night, i'd get up to use the bathroom, and my feet would be in excruciating pain. every muscle and bone seemed to be contracting and making it difficult to walk to the bathroom. i thought, i'll get over this, i just need more practice. at night again, i'd take off my shoes. it felt wonderful, the grass on my feet. when it was wet i'd confuse patches of mud with dog poop, but i'd take a shower when i got home.
i started running more, barefoot. pretty soon i made it all the way around the track, about 1 k, then i made it 1 1/2, almost two. i was proud of myself. i had a slow pace, but the ground didn't bother me, it felt great on my bare feet.
middle of the night, though, that was different. when i woke up i could hardly even make it to the bathroom. my feet seemed to crumple beneath me in terrible pain. i didn't have this pain when i ran; it was great. but at night, and the following day, it was hell. i was limping everywhere. and it didn't help that i wore shoes in the day. i could hardly go anywhere.
so i gave up. one weekend, i just stopped going out at night. no walking, no running, no shoes, no barefoot. i just went to bed at night, and tried to heal my poor feet. and sure enough, within a couple of days, i'd regained all five pounds that i'd lost in the previous month.
but worse than that, my entire legs started falling apart, and i was still sore. finally though, after a few days of this, i went back out. this time i took shoes, and kept them on. this time, i only walked, and if my knees hurt, i just kept going. i got back into my original equilibrium.
my daughter dropped a "rock chalk jayhawk" sign on my wall, as if to say, go kansas. so i dropped a red raider on hers and said, you let us win the football, we let you win in basketball. which is pretty much true. it's not generally close, so it's not really a rivalry.
calendar time. i'm gearing up, psychologically, to make a good one. i'm using all my dad's photography these days, and it's working well. it takes time, and i don't have time, that's why i'm gearing up, so as to make time, so as to get it done. i have to be awake at night, able to put together twelve months. then, it'll happen. i look forward to it; i'm ready.
The other thing is the poetry. i've become fanatical about it, nearing a thousand, getting a decent show for all fifty states. i now have one in each season for almost every state, i'm closing in on the last few, and i'm trying to make it so i'm no longer relying on the singletons as much; in states like california and pennsylvania, i'm adding easily, effortlessly. the usual suspects are difficult. delaware, new hampshire, maine, hawaii. what am i supposed to do? hang in there; it's looking much better.
Thursday, October 02, 2014
i have this kind of fascination with fame, though a friend pointed out that social media has been the death of celebrity, as there's no such thing as privacy anymore. i think paul is the only one of the beatles who is still actually out there touring, but there are plenty of other old bands that still play once in a while and whet the appetite for the old days. the other day they had blood sweat and tears at the fair, and a friend of mine had tickets to give away. but it turns out the fair gets these ancient bands because the parents will bring the children, and then the children will spend a lot of money and get cotton candy, etc. i missed that one too. i could hardly remember a single blood sweat and tears song, though i knew there were several.
with the beatles though, there are millions of songs, and though sir paul only wrote about half or whatever, he still can get out there and represent the history as it came down through the ages. to me, it's interesting just to be in a town that has concerts; for the most part, these are second-tier concerts, but sir paul requested to play here because he has a thing for buddy holly, and always has. he considers buddy holly to be the man, the guy who got him started, the one who got his hook into the rock-pop genre.
a friend of mine told of a gathering of songwriters, guys who write for george strait or brad paisley or whoever, and then get together themselves, to play their own music, when they have a chance. these friends were talking about small intimate settings as opposed to the united arena, but the idea was to get closer to the creativity itself rather than just the music. it's fair to say that, from my point of view, the most interesting thing was just to hear people's feelings about the whole thing. i have friends who go to every concert, reasoning that life is short, lubbock is small, and if one has money and an opportunity to make a memory, one should. but a much larger percentage of us are holding back, not paying these huge prices, hoping for something better. and i like hearing what they have to say. my sister believes the music industry has tanked, it's finished, you can't make a living like this, but i'm more interested in, when kind of life is it, when you do? are people like sir paul actually having fun? getting drowsy as usual, falling asleep at the keyboard. working on poetry a lot these days, check it out, it's extensive.
Monday, September 29, 2014
last night's bear story
when they get to the gallery, it's a thoroughly modernistic building with glass walls and weird angles everywhere. there's a whole table of hoover-doovers and everyone is standing around eating hoover-doovers and drinking wine. the boy asks the bear if he'd like any hoover-doovers, but the bear, though starving, is more focused on watching people. the walls, however, are empty except for light shining on them. "hey," the bear says, "there's no art on the walls! where is your art?"
"it's imaginary," says the boy. "my art requires a finely developed sense of imagination on the part of the viewer, who must make of it what he imagines," and the boy goes into an explanation of how the art relates to the viewer, and the viewer relates to the art. meanwhile a woman comes up and gives the boy several thousand dollars in cash, for a piece of art that she has taken a liking to, and she seems quite content to carry this picture out into the street even though it's imaginary. the bear is incredulous. he gets the boy to promise to take him to the movie after the art opening.
now the owner of the building comes by and reminds the boy that he owes rent for this fine old building space which is, after all, right downtown. the boy pays him cash with the money in his pocket, and buys an extra month while he's at it, even though he doesn't need it as the exhibit is coming down soon. the man is satisfied and goes to eat more hoover-doovers and drink wine. some people appear to be getting a little tipsy.
but the building manager reminds the bear that you have to wear pants or you're not allowed in the elevator, though the bear says he has no intention of using the elevator, since he's sure that they will make the elevator stuck the minute he gets in it, and he also says that even though elevators are supposed to always go up and down, this one is likely to go sideways since he doesn't trust the management. the building manager says he'll call a tow truck and have the bear towed away if he doesn't behave himself immediately but the boy grabs the bear before it's too late and takes him across the street to the movie theater where "fantasia" is showing and they get in line.
they buy tickets and order a large popcorn, but instead of receiving a giant bowl that is full of buttered popcorn, they receive a single piece of popcorn that is what, several feet wide and several feet tall. they don't know how to cut it because they have nothing to cut with. they take it to their seat and put it between them, but people behind them start yelling, down in front! down in front! but they can't put it down; it's too big. and there are no seats in the back, all the seats are taken.
they start an intense conversation with a woman behind them about the rights of a person who has bought a movie ticket, but people nearby resent the conversation in the middle of the movie and pretty soon there's a commotion of people yelling at them to shut up and the bear finally threw the popcorn over to a little kid, since he wasn't going to use it himself. he began considering the exit door, since he'd already seen the movie maybe nine times, and knew all the songs by heart.
classic bear story
one day the boy was walking along in the forest when the bear jumped out at him and said he would eat the boy. the boy said, "whoa! don't eat me!" but the bear was determined. finally the boy made the bear an offer. "you should come down into town with me and eat a hamburger. when we get the hamburger, they put it in a bun, and then they have cheese, and relish, and ketchup and mustard, and tomato, and onion, and lettuce..." now the bear doesn't really know what all this stuff is, but he decides to give it a shot, since, if it's not enough to eat, he can always just go on plan a, which is to eat the boy. but as they walk through the forest, they run into a number of other animal friends.
first they run into the dog, and the boy describes the entire hamburger again: cooked well, with cheese, and tomato, and ketchup, and mustard, etcetera. pretty soon the bear is entranced by the sound of this exotic food which he's never tasted, but the dog is not impressed. "i am busy," he said, "chasing a cat." later they run into the cat, and the story is repeated. the boy describes the hamburger in detail, but the cat is busy chasing a mouse. when they get to the raccoon, the raccoon is planning to break into a garbage can, so he's too busy to go to town to get a hamburger.
when they finally get to town, it's just the boy and the bear again. on the restaurant is a sign that says "no shirt no shoes no service." the owner points it out and complains that the bear doesn't even have pants on either. the bear says he'll eat the owner along with the boy, and he doesn't care what anyone is wearing. they are standing outside the restaurant and in fact are pretty close to a parking meter.
so the meter man comes by and starts writing the bear a ticket for not plugging the meter. the bear maintains that he is not a car, so he should not have to plug the meter. the meter man says that it doesn't matter if you wear pants or not, if you are blocking the parking space and not dropping quarters in the meter, he'll give you a ticket. i don't have quarters, said the bear, because i don't have pockets. but i will gladly eat you, and drop some of your quarters into the little slot.
oh no no no no, says the boy, running from the restaurant out into the street to retrieve the bear. he has obtained a seat in the restaurant, after some waiting, and now wants the bear to join him for a dinner of two hamburgers with the works. the bear is stuck on the idea of "the works" but he was quite bored with the meter man, so he walks into the restaurant and joins the boy at the table near the juke box. now people are plugging the juke box with all kinds of quarters, and they are listening to classics of all time which come on repeatedly.
but a tow-truck driver pokes his head into the restaurant and asks if there is a bear in the house. yes, there is i, says the bear. the tow-truck driver says he was asked to come downtown and tow this bear who was blocking the road and refusing to let people park in front of the restaurant. you can't tow me, says the bear, i'm a bear, not a car, so take your tow truck and go tow someone else. they just about start a fight right there in the restaurant and one young child actually hides under the table because he's afraid there will be food and plates flying any minute. but the bear keeps his calm and simply reminds the tow truck driver that he can tow whoever he likes, but he can't fit the bear through the door without the bear's cooperation, or breaking the big window that says "eat" on it, and the tow-truck driver ends up complaining that this bear is not even wearing pants, even when you are supposed to be kicked out for as little as "no shoes no shirt." but it's too late, people have come to like the bear, and they don't like tow truck drivers, and even as he raises his voice they keep singing in french and banging their spoons against their glasses, and he just has to leave. the bear and the boy order apple pie with cream on top, and make a long night of it, telling stories and singing with the crowd. somebody brings out the raspberries, and that makes the bear really happy, but finally he remembers his little home in the woods, and stumbles home, in the middle of the night, glad that there's a large moon to light his way.