By W.R. Jones
Driving on a winding mountain road I pulled over to let a truck pass. All those curves were making me dizzy so I decided to stay there and force myself to paint something. After setting up the easel, laying out paint, doing my pre-painting meditation, and initial layin, I noticed that because of the extreme curves in the road, from behind my van, I was out of sight of anyone driving by from either direction. I hadn’t seen a building for several miles; my own little Walden Woods.
Alone; good, I had to pee like a racehorse. A cup of coffee and two cans of Pepsi were backed up in the plumbing. I started to relieve myself with a rather beautiful stream. This may seem a strange comment to you younger folks, but at my age with a prostate like a cantaloupe, a good stream is a sight to behold. I canted my head to one side to see if I could spot a rainbow in there.
“Hellooo…. good morning!”, two female heads pop up over the edge of the drop off at the tree line. What the hell, I spun around to cover myself; peeing on my backpack, pant leg and shoes in the move. There is no spigot to shut this thing off on a dime as they say.
These two oblivious hikers kept coming, where is the backwoods etiquette? “Hey, what are you painting?” “Oh… nothing”, I reply. Oh, nothing? Where did that idiotic answer come from? I couldn’t say trees, sky, rocks, grass, woods, my dick, anything but nothing? I’ll tell you where that lame reply came from; long hours and countless repetitions of futile attempts to coverup things I shouldn’t be doing.
Mom, “What are you boys doing down there?” “Oh, nothing.” This was the go to answer while making blow guns, playing with fire, designing spring clothespin dart shooters, cutting apart shot shells to make a bomb, looking at the girlie magazines, smoking, etc. In short, the answer for just about everything we did as children.
What am I doing now? Oh…nothing.