Friday, 25 May 2018

Doc Martin Problems



            On Thursday I got around to poking holes in the straps of the Doc Martin sandals that I found so they would fit my comparatively little feet. I certainly have bigger than average hooves but whoever owned these sandals originally was at least a size larger. I got them so they felt pretty secure.
            I washed three pairs of underwear and put them outside and they were dry by the late afternoon when the sun moved around to kill the southeastern shadows.
            Since I had to work that evening at Artists 25 and wanted to have something quick to eat when I got home late, during the early afternoon I grilled the three steaks that I’d bought on Sunday.
            When it was time to leave I put the sandals on and buckled up the straps but the prong of the back strap buckle for the right sandal broke. I was able to wear them anyway because the strap was fairly secure just from slipping it in the buckle and out the other side.
            It was weird riding my bike with sandals on though. I think I might be able to make them more secure by adding more holes to tighten up the top strap. There’s both a sense of freedom and insecurity that seems to go along with wearing sandals.
            There were just two artists drawing me for most of the night. I told them about finding my Doc Martin sandals in a box on the curb. I forget the woman’s name but she is a regular. She exclaimed, “Those are worth a fortune! The universe gave you a resent! It does that sometimes!” I responded sceptically, “Sometimes it gives children cancer!” She said something about how there might be reasons for that, which basically meant she didn’t know. Why do people have to think the universe gives a fuck about them? It so much more logical that shit happens, good or bad. It doesn’t serve one’s mind at all to think one has a relationship with the new age version of god.
            Artists 25 has existed since 1981 and it was one of the first places that gave me work when I began modeling in 1982. During that time they’ve continuously run four drawing sessions a week in a well equipped studio, plus sometimes drawing and painting courses have also been given. Cy told me that they are looking to move forward as a corporation but a corporation needs three directors. They have two and need one more director if anyone is interested, and it could be pretty interesting.
            We talked a lot of Tom Phillips, who died two weeks ago, was the heart of Artists 25 and its most active member. Part of his will was set aside for preserving his artwork, and his cousin Lisa has the task of making that happen. It sounds like an impossible task given that Tom left behind thousands of paintings. It seems to me that the ideal situation would be to turn his house in Etobicoke into a Tom Phillips museum but the problem is that a different faction of Tom’s family inherited his house and they plan on selling it.
I don’t know if it was the temperature, the atmosphere, the mood, the memories of Tom or all of those, but it was a very pleasant session and I hardly felt like I was working at all. When I left the studio the temperature was nearly perfect and coasting down the hill on Brock was very pleasurable on such a sweet night, with moon hanging above and ahead of me.
When I got home I slipped some frozen fries in the oven and heated up one of the steaks. Then I watched the 13th and 14th episodes of The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis.
These stories are not particularly well written but they sometimes throw in an interesting character or a clever situation or two. In the 13th episode Dobie’s father is having trouble understanding his son. One of the town’s most prominent psychiatrists was shopping the Gillis grocery store and Herbert thought he’d get some free advice my engaging the doctor in a casual conversation about a situation between a father and son. The doctor tells him that a boy might think he hates his father and if he admits it verbally it might be a breakthrough. The doctor’s groceries amounted to $20.75. The doctor gave Herbert 75 cents and said they were even because he charges $20 for a session.
Herbert tries to get Dobie to tell him that he hates him but Dobie refuses. He offers to give Dobie $6 to take Thalia to the prom and he’s tempted but still refuses to tell his father he hates him. Finally Herbert threatens, “You say that you hate me or we’re through!” Dobie tells his father what he seems to want to hear. Then Herbert is upset that his son hates him. He begins to treat Dobie with indignation and then Dobie brings him a gift. He cancelled his date with Thalia and spent the entire amount on a tie for his dad. Herbert is so touched that he pays for Dobie and Thalia to go to the prom.
The 14th episode involved a student from Argentina renting a room at the Gillis place, but the guy is so polite, gallant and charming that all the girls at the school and also Dobie’s mother are nuts about him. Dobie has to get rid of him and so he teaches him rude expressions that would be considered insulting to most women, like calling them “tubby”. Thalia still finds him charming but Dobie’s mother doesn’t appreciate it.
           
           

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