Yam Eating Scanks

When Christine told me she went to an Art Gallery opening, where on a table was a big plate of freshly nuked yams – next to cheap bottes of wine – I began to salvitate, because I saw Van Gough’s famous painting ‘The Potatoe Eaters’ . Yams are called ‘Sweet Patatoes.

“Was there a table cloth? If so, what color was it?” I wanted details. What a bi-line!

“You should have seen them. Some of them had colorfully dyed hair. They were almost eighty. It was like Easter for old hags. They made sure to wear dresses with no sleves so everyone can see their arm-flesh flapping. The more winkled – the better! Half of them were wearing black leotards with holes and rips in them.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“The scanks, the old European scanks, who came up to Stefan to get their Euro-kiss! It was disgusting. The germs! The dirty nasty scank germs. I didn’t want to catch what they got!”

This was my inspiration for my painting of Chris&Eins. I pictured them coming to the door of the gallery.

“Excuse me. Can I see your invitations?”  the scank at the door asks.

“We don’t need no invitation. We’re Yam Eaters – of the Village!”

“Oh my God! What a privilege to have you here.”

“We came to eat some yams. It says you will serve them. We love yams!”

“You Yam Eaters go way back. To Holland, I believe?”

“Yes, Holland. You have pegged us. Now can we eat some yummy yams?”

“Excuse me, art lovers! Attention! We got members of the Yam Eater tribe with us!”

This review dovetails nicely with my review of Pynchon’s ‘Inherent Vice’. I am getting to own the Big Picture, being I have been up close to very beautiful women, and, they light up your consciousness, in ways – still to be explained. They are other worldly creatures. The Greek acknowledged this – and the church – who owns thousands of naked statues.

https://rosamondpress.com/2015/01/14/marijuana-road-lil-hippie/

I camped fifty days with a young woman who looked like a young Gene Tierney, who like Rena, suffered from mental illness most of her life.

The truth is, Stefan Eins is jealous of me, and not because Christine and I were real hippie lovers. It is because of the photograph I took and sent it to him that depicts a fossil of his famous horsehoe crab in the cement in downtown Springfield Oregon. I pointed out the smashed-down pipe that the citizens identified as the source of The Creature that came to dwell in their world. Was it from another planet, a planet of Yam Eaters?

“Take note of the flattened pipe. It looks like a penis that delivered The Demon Seed!” I said in my e-mail to Eins.

For five months Christine gave me a eerie report on the hole neat her radiator that she claimed her landlord had drilled in order to spy on her.

“Do you think he is using a spy camera?”

“No! I think he is using his nose – to smell if I still got too many cats!”

I finally got wise. All my life people have been punishing me, torturing me, because I own a UNLIMTED IMAGINATION that has to be from another planet. I am – alien! I was forced to grade potatoes when I was a child. My father was The Spud King! His secretaries called him Vic The Nazi – to his face!

“This battered pipe represents the oppressive church that hides the truth of our real Genesis. They intercept our sexual beings – then pound the shit out of us!” I said to Ein’s on the phone. He called me.

A year later, Christine is telling me Stefan’s mother used to torture her son’s penis by sticking objects up it.

“She wanted him to become a priest. He went to seminary school for awhile, but, he was haunted by bad memories!”

“She was sticking a piece of straw up his penis.” I offered. “This was a common practice amongst German mothers. They did it get all the urine out so the baby won’t dribble. My father claims the same form of abuse, and thus is his excuse for abusing all four of his children. His people came from Germany. This shit gets passed down. Parents refuse to believe the truth that our memories go back – more than they want to know! They don’t want to miss their chance to recreate their abuse!”

Stefan was traumatized as a boy. But, I shocked the shit out him. I had done his portrait, captured his inner self, that he believed would never be revealed. Too many people are hiding in the places made for Creative Open People, they using this opening as their Cloak of Invisibility!

“See! I am wide open to almost everything! Even though I hate yams! I have no problem eating Art Yams!”

I am done with that! I am very psychic. Stefan sent me an e-mail, and called me up and asked if I could resend him this image. He must have got spooked and deleted it.

As for the hole in Christine’s floor………..

“Get a box of Fix-All.”

“What is that? How do you spell it! Hurry, the store is about to close, and I need a bag of kitty litter. My wrists are giving out. I may not be able to carry food home, just the litter! God! Why am I so hungry? This stems from my childhood, where at dinner-time my parents would make me sit at the dining table and watch my brother and sister eat steaks. When they were done, my Fake Mother brought out a bowl of luke-warm, Cream O Wheat. My family would snigger as I ate. I cried and cried! They didn’t care! I don’t know where I am going to get the money to feed all my cats!”

“Christine! Did we talk about the German Psychologist, Allice Miller. I think she is suggesting the reason you adopt so many cats, is, because you are ‘The Un-Wanted Child’. Your parents only wanted – TWO children. That was their ideal! Every time you bring home a new cat – you are spitting in your parents face!”

“Oh that’s nuts! My mother – is not my real mother! My father met a beautiful woman who wanted only ONE child – ME! After my father delivered me downstairs in his office, my real mother – who wanted me – disappeared! I think she was/is a Catholic!”

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alice_Miller_(psychologist)

I’m done fixing stuff, unless you want to hire me for a lot of money! Has Stefan ever fathered a child? Did he get a vasectomy? If you don’t want people to react to your art, don’t create. If you don’t want people to react to your writing, don’t write! If you don’t want people to response to your acting – don’t act!

Christine claims Stefan is not a real artist.

“He rarely paints, or twists a piece of wire anymore!”

I think Stefan became an artist in hope of meeting someone who could figure him out – and fix him! The Catholic Church – failed! I did not! Now what is Eins going to do? If you don’t want get fixed – stop going to a shrink!

Has anybody painted a box of Fix-All? Consider this box my Ready-Made.

John Presco

Copyright 2019

Marijuana Road & Lil Hippie

TOB2 TOB3 tobacco2cherb2 inherent2

pyncho

Being a Hippie involves extensive contact with human beings, mostly other Hippies. The word “Hippie” was uttered twenty times in the movie ‘Inherent Vice’. I am not sure why.

The term “Lil Hippie” spew out twice from the faux fog that Kesey brilliantly created in ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’. I winced with embarrassment! Only when I awoke this morning with a marijuana hangover garnished from the contact high I got as a bonus at my movie house, did I see what work of literature, and movie art, this sophomoric offering ripped off. Does this line jar your memory;

“Hmm-yummy! I sure could use some turnips right now.”

.

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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