I was denied access to the cafe-turned-art-gallery that displayed (unless otherwise burned and destroyed) three of my original pen drawings. A desultory tiger with back shadow where the image once started and if finished would have been disproportionate. A clown fish swarmed by colorful splashes of biologically incorrect coral effluvium. Then the rainbow zebra with stark white background. I was disallowed entry. The 'food' they advertised is nothing more than donuts. $5 suggested entry though I wasn't allowed to just walk in. I sit with the music building immediately behind me listening to a band of some kind rehearse. I hear some sort of tonal mallet percussion, an oboe, maybe a drummer with brushes, but no voices in between the sonic wash of band instruments. Sounded like it may have been a few melodic percussion instruments. Unless the band leader has three hands. Glockenspiel. Parnassus art cafe had the donuts and the animal art but would not allow one of the artists in. Sounded like soft jazz indie music. Sounded pleasant and seemed a nice crowd. I smell of beer most likely, the jasmine IPA and was billed early to leave the off campus alcoholic cafe perhaps by my mistake of packing up before going to the restroom, which lead the man to believe I was exiting... another part of me wonders if I was acting unruly somehow, certainly spaced-out I know, I read the beer list as if it were the original transcription of the apostle Old Georgie by god. Students are playing frisbee and fencing, looking ridiculous with hands upturned and flimsy little swords scratching and scrapping against each other. (band leader is on blocks I've found out.. now it is the only instrument beside a gentle vocal choir... the music is very soothing and harmonic... ebbing and flowing with minstrel flourish and waves of nationalist flags from the country origin for whatever language they are singing.)
There is a poetry reading at Kane hall. I may go. My girlfriend is on her way north in my car. It is a silent grey sky. I am being investigated by ants and mosquitoes. A few bite but warn others that my blood will make them drunk.
Disallowed entry to my own first exhibit! $5! I don't have the money. I have nothing. What will they do with my art? Do they think I donated it to their animal rescue cause? Sure I would. But not the originals. The fucking originals! Well.
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Thematic glances, a downturned look and a perpetual sad little smile, the short and stalky feminine figure and the face recognizable even if right brain hemorrhage or some fury of aphasia, the embarrassment and the disconnect with the self (maybe I did not dress appropriately). chance to network is crushed because I can't afford to get in. chance to compliment a young lady about how pretty she is is crushed by a pervading guilt for doing so. what a jealous entanglement. am I too stifle all of my cursory emotions until the end of time? this dark haired girl has a slightly agitating voice, one of sorority life perhaps, but she says careful and well thought out things when she speaks up, which is rare. the only relation we share is one with the professor. she likes us and would match make in heaven if our obligatory bodies would allow, who knows what wisdom a first grey hair would bring. I looked out the window and at her. she looked down and back at me almost too swift, reproachful with a down turned glare. I immediately apologize within myself for attempting analysis. She is mysterious and therefore beautiful. If I got to know her I bet I'd be turned off like a light switch. My infatuation lasts for the class period but only on boring days.
