A RICH INNER LIFE

One of the sporadic show-ups at my work is a chap with a wide spectrum of life experiences and a plethora of skillsets. He's been an astronaut, nuclear physicist, jet fighter pilot, shaolin monk, podiatrist, brain surgeon, chemical engineer, race car driver, and kung fu fighter. Pilots his own helicopter, and has a mansion with a helipad in Tiburon. Also, he has a daughter who seven years ago was fourteen, and probably still is.

Naturally I stand in awe.

He showed up twice yesterday, and thus made up for the scarcity of the senile old right wing toads who normally infest the back room. Who also have rich inner lives, bless them, but are far more problematic presences. I like to think that I myself have one or two things I do well, and am a very tolerant patient man in the running for sainthood.

My apartment mate, a brutal realist at times, describes herself as "a rude-ass mofo, up yours boy". And says about her own kind that if they were chickens, they'd be the first to be thrown into the deepfryer. This pursuant a significant characteristic of Asian Americans which I shall not mention. I rely on her for frequent exposure to sober realism. It keeps me grounded.

Sadly, I do not have a rich inner life, unlike the first mentioned person, nor the archtypical Cantonese ultra-Hibernian eloquence of my apartment mate. We Dutch Americans are a dour lot, given to Calvinistic disapproval of a great many things even if we haven't been anywhere near a church in several generations. Nor would I describe us as particularly spiritual.

Regarding that dull and academic landscape painting above, please understand that in the far distance near the lake there are naked sprites engaged in a lively dance, both male and female as well as transgender, of several different appealing skin hues. They are extremely sexy. Unfortunately they are too far away to actually see them. That's very Dutch painterly of me. There is miniature naughtiness in my illustrations. Sorry you can't see it, because of perspective. But I want you to know that it is there.


Think of it as le sacre du printemps.



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