August 10, 2003
Now the cooler on my studio is kaput. Not pumping water for some reason. Just blowing hot air around. Arm sticking to art paper, etc. Endured it all day yesterday (too hot to work, too hot to go up on the roof and fix it). Went up there this morning and jimmied the panels off with an odd assortment of wrenches and ratchets. Looked inside, calcium buildup is atrocious, scraped off a ton, can’t figure out how to get the pump working, shut everything off, came down, came back to work. Sitting here in the heat waiting for Kathy to come back from exercise class (9:15 AM) so I can have her turn the pump on and off while I “kick the tires” until it decides to magically turn on, or wait until tomorrow and get a repairman out here so we can get saddled with that compressor we dodged buying last Tuesday night (where’s Brad Radina when you really need him?).

Struggled all day yesterday trying to get my art skills back. I really suffer when I go for weeks without drawing and painting. Ruined two or three studies (after procrastinating for two or three hours; note my blogs get significantly longer on the days when I’m having trouble with my art), switched gears and using tracing paper I began the tedious process of building images of Billy the Kid leaping over a dead body in the gate of the McSween house. In my mind’s eye, I picture him in an almost ballet pose, pirouetting high in the air, a la Matrixville, and he is lit up by the house fire raging behind him, the shooters along the back wall are also monster lit by the leaping flames, and the Kid is captured in mid-stride like some exotic butterfly under glass. As my faithful Native American Muse is so fond of yelling in my head, “Not easily achieved White Man.”

Knocked off around four, made margaritas for Kathy and I, solved life, worried about our kids, visited Costa Rica (obtuse metaphor reference #37, see July 28-9 for answer). Went up to El Encanto at about 6:30. Had the G.—Spanish for William—Special and Kathy had the Sonoran enchiladas ($20.10 cash, saved about $50 by having the margaritas at home).

Came home and watched Old School on pay-per-view ($3.99). Really weak. Basically Animal House meets Thirty Something. Very lame. In fact I went to sleep, woke up for the end and Kathy assured me I didn’t miss anything.

“Getting married for sex is like buying a 747 for the free peanuts.”
—Jeff Foxworthy