So I’m hyper, and silly things happen when I do that. Like giving a crazy detailed account of my night…I wrote this earlier…after arriving at my destination…the Art Building and am editing/expanding while typing
After thoroughly fortifying myself with essentials [Sobe & Reese's Pieces....(mmmm) and a cigarette] I trudged up to make my sad-little-broken down-rusty-beat making-robo man in the Art Building, in the rain. I was ready for this, as I also had my umbrella. My etching plate was there and the Art Building is one several of my “Fortresses of Solitude” [as well as swings in a secret location... but shhhh!]
[here comes the backstory]
He really is a sad little music making man. Born in Ukraine [supposedly] he was one at the forefront of his trade of one-band-smanship. Playing his beloved accordion, doing his little fun dance (see Eugene Hutz of Gogol Bordello for what I envision), and producing amazing beats from his head/speak/thing/watchamacallit. He had come to America, and was living his dream of being a great musician, that is until the day his little music crank broke. He is not sure exactly when or where he lost it, New York is a big place.
Since losing his crank, he’s become a real mess. His once shiny exoskeleton is now dreary and rusted [oh dear!]. He still plays his accordion, but now it’s while sitting on his little oddly shaped, little makeshift stool on the corners, any corners, hoping to make enough money to get his crank back so he can accompany his accordion playing with the sounds of balkan brass, techno, or whatever other supreme beat he wants to use. He saved up his money to buy a neat little crank at a local pawnshop, but unfortunately it didn’t fit just right, so now he is saving up money to get it retro-fitted….
[THE END!]
I’m feeling sad for him [he needs a name, but I can't think of one right now, maybe some pun off Johnny 5?] so I may end up doing a series for this explaining his situation further, from beginning of the conflict to a full resolution. I would have to leave him as a hobo trying to succeed…
Oh, and I’m mostly done, but when exiting the art building it was SNOWING like crazy. I placed him on the windowsill so he could enjoy the snow. I was prepared for rain, but definitely not for the snow when I left. It was cold…cold cold cold…
