Metaphysic Storm

I’m currently on the road painting and can be found at rssutton.blogspot.com

At Jackson Square I was bragging to my friend, the phantom artist, about my two thousand dollar platinum and sapphire ring, which I traded a great painting for it from Nancy. It is her ex-wedding ring. The phantom joked around saying, “If you ever get held up they’re sure to miss it. Looks like you got it at the bead shop.” It’s my King ring, a symbol of my achievement, self proclaimed rule. Everyone needs to be the king of their self.

I hopped on the street car and cruzed up to La Boulangerie were I bought a baguette that would soon become part of a Kings sandwich. Exiting the shop I thought about my Queen in California, Amanda, hopping that she would forgive for breaking the law of the foreign land by mentally raping her in an early morning conversation. Heading back to the my chambers I was skillfully maneuvering my longboard on challenging New Orleans sidewalks. I approached a section that was impossible to traverse. A couple was walking out of a shop and watched me dismount my deck. They said, “We would have been really impressed if you would have been able to make it over that rough patch.” I replied, “There’s some things I just can’t do.” A few clicks down I got back on my board and kicked off. At the very next, quote unquote, side walk ramp I took a header right onto the pavement. The couple looked very concerned for my well being but they had nothing to worry about. I am a master at falling. I got up brushed off the dirt and started laughing. I asked them, “Did that impress you?” They joined my laughter and my pride remained strong.

Back at the Den I told my friend Nancy that I was depressed because Amanda was avoiding me but that I was still confident she would come around. Nancy wanted me to go with her to pick up some things from the store and I was more than happy to drive. At Pier One she made a startling discovery on my hand. The sapphire in my kings ring was missing. Upon further inspection we deduced that it was dislodged during my fall. We drove back to the location of the fall sight. She revealed an unjustified attachment to the gem and to make it more weird for her, the day would have been her 8th wedding anniversary.

We spent the next hour scouring the concrete looking for a thousand dollar cut stone. I was disappointed not finding it but rationalized that had I to chose losing the stone or the Neo Ray Bans I was wearing, I would have chosen the stone. I’m an Imperadør now, after all. I gave the ground one more look as I searched for the carved gem. Amanda called.

This has been my month, my friends! There won’t be another 1-08 for a century. I started out this month on an insomniac greyhound, spent the middle of it in the pchyc ward and the end on pirates alley. Last night I watched the King of California: now officially my movie. Michael Douglas plays an idiot genius who forces his daughter (Evan Rachel Wood) to search for the long-lost Spanish treasure. Last night I told my love that I was about to kick ass and take names in Hollywood, painting.

“Mis en place” is a French term used in the brigade system of cooking. It means, in it’s place. It is the most important element in line cooking. When a chef has 20 plates to make in the next 10 minutes everything must be in it’s place or he’ll be destined to sink in the weeds.

Kicking ass and taking names was a term my father used. He stopped talking to me recently after I told him I was the messiah. He knows I wasn’t talking about the walking on water type but rather a teacher and writer of clean words. I always found it odd that he used the term “kicking ass and taking names” because the only ass I saw him kick was us-kids. And he already new our names.

One of the last things he told me was that he was done kicking ass and taking names. It looks like it is my turn to start taking names. My kids are only going to get kisses. Maybe soap in the potty mouth though

If one starts looking for signs one is bound to find them. From hurricanes to mud slides it’s easy to attribute Natural disasters as acts from an evil force or warnings from God. Every time I see the letter N on someones shoes the word Naturalist plays in my mind; what is New Balance anyway? Two years ago I almost joined the Army.

I’ve been contemplating joining the Army. I have been in Hollywood working out, going to the recruiter every other day. I smoked pot with my ex a month ago. I have been taking piss tests waiting for it to clear. The test has been showing 99% clear. Then yesterday I took another one and it showed a complete positive result. I haven’t smoked all year except once, over a month ago. It has me perplexed. I don’t believe in a God but it looks like something is trying to tell me to stay out of the Army. Even if it an actual physical element in my body that is trying to sabotage my opportunity. I felt like an ass at the recruiters as it obviously looked like I was a liar. I am not lying.

Then I hiked Mount Runyon. I was almost to the top and picked up a smooth rock and held it in my hand. The first word in my head, “Projectile” I thought about the first weapons man used. I had a debate with myself. “Was it the rock or the stick?” No one will know for sure. Then I started wondering if the first person that used a rock to fight did they through it, drop it or use it in there hand. Then I started to wonder why I can’t stop wondering about things, especially weapons. I guess it’s part of having testosterone.

At the top I was out of wind. I was bummed because I hadn’t run across any reptiles as I love chatting with my friends. There was a small bird perched in some shrubs. It went tweet tweet. Being polite I tweeted back. I love talking to my friends. They usually don’t understand this English thing so I try my best speaking there language. I aaakkkkk at squirrels, meeeoooww at cats, and whistle at birds. Well something very strange happened when I started talking with this bird. It jumped to flight and started flying around my head in 30 yard ellipses. I thought it might be a nest issue but there was no nest or little ones to be seen. This was a tiny bird and had short parrot like wings. It made incredible sharp banks at an alarming speed. I would guess around 40 miles an hour. Then it started making maneuvers around my head. I’m not exaggerating. This bird was dive bombing my skull, literally coming a foot from my face at 40 miles an hour. I could hear the swoosh which was strange from anything that small. Why was it doing this? Continue Reading »