Where Do I See Myself in Five Years?

Friday

My landlady finally sent a lawn service to harvest the bountiful crop of dandelions and stinging nettles which had reached a height so that a quorum of jockeys could have met, running their entire meeting standing, and still remain unnoticed by the neighborhood. It took a crew of two just under four hours to finish–however, they were spending several protracted breaks fraternizing with the lawn crew spiffing up the house next door.

At least my place won’t look as shabby as it did last year for the King William Parade, which comes down my street. It’s coming up in two weeks. For those reading my blog who aren’t out-of-towners, shut-ins, or incarnated felons conscientious enough to gain internet privileges, please drop by. Lurkers, stalkers, and my three or four enemies are all welcomed to come watch the parade with me. It begins, I believe, at ten am on Saturday, April, 24. My place is 716 E. Guenther, the humble little grey house with three apartments. I’m the door that faces the street. Parking will be a bitch. They close off the entire parade route. You might be able to find a place to park in the Brackenridge High School lot, the Blue Star art complex, or, more likely, in the La Vaca neighborhood, south of S. Alamo, and east of S. Presa.

You bring the breakfast tacos, and I’ll try and keep the coffee flowing.

Personally, I’m no fan of parades. But I always watch the King William Parade. Sure, I have no choice, as it comes down my street. There’s more, you see. I love the King William Parade because it’s a neighborhood event. There’s the marching band from Brackenridge High School, which is just three blocks away from me. Many of the local businesses and art and cultural organizations take part. It’s also one of the closest things to a gay pride parade during the whole San Antonio Fiesta fortnight (well, I think it’s just an eleven day event, but it feels like fucking forever!). The queer quotient of the King William Parade is fairly high (well, for San Antonio); but if also you add those who embrace their gender confusion this one time a year, well, we have quite a few ungainly and hairy men crammed into dresses who have clearly not embraced this lifestyle, as their not so feminine and very sensible footwear attests.

If you’ve never been to the King William Parade, come on down. It’s a blast. The King William Fair, however, is a bit much. If you like drinking over-priced beers, munching on turkey legs, seeing a bunch of crappy “arts” and craft, and being shoe-horned into a densely packed crowd, well, by all means, check it out. Personally, I usually amble down and check out the fair for an hour at the most. Take some pictures. And make my escape. I can’t recall what the entrance fee is (and I am appalled that they charge to entered a neighborhood–this can’t be legal, can it?), but because the locals receive a couple of free passes in the mail prior to the event, this it suppose to make us happy? Well, perhaps it does. Eh, whatever…. The Fair’s so-so. The Parade rocks!

In fact, this afternoon the kids with the Brackenridge High School Marching Band took to the neighborhood. They were marching, playing their instruments, and fucking up the traffic. I loved it! I scrambled to find my camera and got out on the porch when they were half-way past. I took a few photos.

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I wish they’d do this all the time. Because, dammit, that’s community involvement. I also love that the Brackenridge PE classes have the kids running through the neighborhood. Every school should find reasons to go out into their neighborhoods, and every neighborhood should find reasons to go into their schools.

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My Luminaria check arrived on Thursday. So today (Friday) I headed over to Jump-Start Performance Company to present a check to ST Shimi. My Luminaria film not only featured the wonderful dancing of Shimi, but she also performed a dance on stage during Luminaria as my film of her was projected in the background. Of course she should get half of my honorarium check. (Probably she deserves more than half, but I, too, have bills to pay). It was quite a thrill to be able to pay Shimi. The fact is, when I work in collaboration with other artists, I reach out to people with whom I’ve already forged one sort of relation or another. More often that not, we’ve already entered into a situation of an ongoing exchange of services and such. My work with Carlos and Pete, and Deborah and Seme come to mind. But when I reached out to Shimi, we had no prior work experience. I was drawn by her beauty, intelligence, physical strength, and incredible stills and accomplishments in arial dance, belly dance, and hoop dancing. She’s quite an extraordinary force. I was actually glad that she asked, during our first meeting, if there was a budget in the project I had in mind. I’ve become so exhausted being involved in all these creative projects where no one gets paid, and it seems that so many creative individuals in this town are so often exploited.

At the initial meeting I had to admit that there was no pay. At that time I wasn’t thinking of making this project with Shimi into my Luminaria project. My proposed project was fairly generic. What I had initially wanted from Shimi was to shoot something which could be used as a work sample for a larger public arts project I still hope to make a reality.

But as Luminaria approached, and as I realized that the idea I had in mind seemed a bit overly ambitious, I decided to push for this wonderful short piece I had shot in the winter of 2009 of Shimi, on the San Antonio River. All he sudden it seemed a no-brainer. And when Shimi let me know that she was available to be onstage to hoop-dance as the film played, I was so thankful. And the performance on Luminaria night, as short as it was, was magical.

What I’m getting at is that I was thrilled to be able to honor all the hard work Shimi provided for this piece with some real compensation. True, it’s not a lot, but it’s something. And, dammit, we all need to look after one another in this town.

And I want to state again, in this blog, that Jump-Start Performance Company (where ST Shimi works as Artistic Director for Company Programing) never leaves their artists sucking air. Earlier this year two works of mine were shown in their performance space. I received a cash honorarium from one, and a comp performance ticket for another. Sometimes the respect you’re given for the work you do might seem small, but take a moment to consider the arrangement. Is your work being given any respect? If not, walk away. It’s time, especially in this city, that the artist class begin to boycott situations where there is no compensation or other tangible form of appreciation. This is why I have appreciation of Luminaria and Jump-Start.

Speaking of ST Shimi, it looks like our film will be screened his coming Thursday at Main Plaza as a bit of introductory entertainment before the Pedro Infanta film. Sadly, Shimi is working elsewhere that night (she’s quite in demand). But please come out and see the ST Shimi and Erik Bosse short film. And come because there’s a Pedro Infante film!

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Saturday.

A former co-worker from a former life of mine posted a photo on FaceBook. It was of an old dentist chair which he had been refurbishing as, I assume, some sort of project. Some of the responses from his friends pondered why he’d have something like that in his house–how could his wife put up with this weirdness? In an attempt to make his chair seem not so outre, I took photo of my medical examination table–with the stirrups raised to full mast, it was in more of a gynecological exam table mode. I placed a link to my picture in the comment section below his dentist chair picture.

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My sister, who also worked with Steve, saw my photo and placed it on her FaceBook page. Quite a few people jumped aboard, making comments about the creepiness of having a medical exam table in ones living room. Now I won’t argue that point. They’re right. This is one of the reasons I jumped when a friend offered it to me. But my experience is that most people who see it are not so disturbed as bemused. In fact, most want to use it as a film prop or an element for a photo shoot. I’m more than willing to loan it out, but it’s insanely heavy. (Pete and I moved it to C4 to use in the 48 Hour Hour Film Experience movie, Voodoo Daddy, and it almost killed us moving it back and forth.)

My favorite story about the table was when Russ and his wife at the time, Lisa, stopped by to visit. I took a seat on the sofa. Russ sat in my rocking chair, and without so much as a beat, Lisa hopped up on the table and curled up on it like it were a daybed, and she never broke rhythm in our conversation which had begun on the walk up to my porch and continued inside. I was quite impressed. But then again, she’s an artist, and they are a great tribe to belong to.

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A big wet wind came in from the Matamoros. When I took my bike onto the Mission Trail around five-thirty this afternoon it had climbed to the upper 70s, but with the gusty wind and the general moistness, it felt, at times, rather chilly.

The problem with this shift in weather is that I have two events coming up this week which happen outside. The Pedro Infante outdoor screening Thursday at Main Plaza might be placed in jeopardy.

But worse is the Alamo Heights Night on Friday. This is a paying gig. I need to find out what happens if the event is rained out. Do I still get paid? I’m thinking I don’t.

My recent fairy godmother, a certain well-paying auction house in Dallas, hasn’t yet contacted me to help out on their next rare books sale. I haven’t yet given up hope. But my finances are dwindling fast. I was planning to set my bookcases back up (I stowed them away along with most of my books some months back for a film shoot in my house)…but I might just embrace a big purge, and begin totting all my books and CDs to various local resale outlets in a bid to stave off the creditors.

I try not to dwell too often on how few marketable skills I possess. Any trained HR department head could make quick work of my resume and out me as a classic slacker layabout.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

“In a hammock beneath a ramada in front of a three room adobe shack in the Chihuahua desert as a trio of young naked women provide me with carne guisada tacos, las cervezas de Bohemia, and Licenciados cigars.”

“Mr. Bosse, I’m asking where you see yourself in five years in this company?”

“Oh, pardon me. I was anticipating that you’d have a branch office in Hidalgo del Parral by 2015. You might want to look into it. They’ve quite a dynamic economy.”

“I believe this interview is at an end.”

And so it goes.

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