burrow

Our final critique for Drawing I was yesterday. It went well, but one thing bothered me. One of my classmates made a video for his final project. In it, he had a stuffed bunny sitting in the road. Obvious, right? He's going to have it run over and then that's going to be his statement about innocence lost, or the environment, whatever. You see that image and you know the bunny's going to get it. I protested. The basis of my disagreement was that the image was too predictable, but this was only part of it. He told me later that he had a problem getting the shot because everyone drove around it. That's what gets me. That's what made it feel so wrong. People lie, cheat, steal etc. All of us. All the time. Thousands. But nobody runs over stuffed bunnies.

bitch

I kept the door open last night while I worked on my art project. I caught the attention of a stray when I first came in. I, on the balcony, she on the ground. We considered each other. It's always been fascinating to me how animals know to look you in the eye. After inching herself closer, she finally came to my door. I gave her scraps of chicken. She ate and dozed in the doorway. I've felt a connection to strays. The black bitch of Mason Avenue, her used-up tits hanging grotesquely. The skinny dog I left on the shores of Valdivia. And this cat. We have an understanding - them and me. I know how not to scare them, myself being fearful.

You're either with me, or you're a poo stain.