ISH

   Anyone who lives alone knows, that you don't so much talk to yourself, as you talk to "things". I talk to the chair, the fucking computer, the cat (Ray is missing), the TV, the floor, the wall, etc. I have just spent a good ten minutes screaming at the computer and interogating Nicole as to Ray's disappearance. I'm getting nowhere. This is indicative of the way things have been going. I've made some references to the neighbors in past posting. Let me catch you up. But first a brief history.

   I bought WSSP by default, as the high bidder did not pony up the deposit. I think the high bidder was someone in my neighbor's house hold, which includes his wife and her boyfriend. I'm pretty sure it was the wife and or boyfriend. I don't think the husband was involved. But that's just a gut feeling. Even though the original condition of my house was dismal, the view across the road wasn't so bad. There was a little unpainted one car garage and a ramshackle 70's motor home next to a little parking area. It, of course had been part of the original farm. But years ago the land had been sold off to save the house. The house was sitting on less than a half acre. That's what I now owned.

   As soon as I mowed the lawn, even before I ripped off one asbestos shingle, the caution tape and spray painted "NO TRESPASSING" warning went up across the road. My house is about 30 feet from this property. I tried to nip it in the bud. I introduced myself, told the wife, and eventually the husband, my plans to restore, and either keep or sell. They seemed cool about my presence and I went forward, working on the place. Then the upside down, scowling Satan went up, as did posted signs on every tree, more caution tape, 3 bikes, and a jungle of high grass. It would be comical if it was happening to someone else.

   It's now two years later. I sold it to Samm a year ago and have worked on it since. The house is on its way to becoming really nice home. As an art work it is holding it's own. Major drainage and water issues have been overcome, but still we do not have a drilled well. We have a toilet. We do not have a flush. AND we still have neighbor issues. WHATTHEFUCK? I don't get it. Then today, it came to a head. No guns were involved. I simply turned it over to Samm, and her ease with people, and diplomacy. The husband called me this morning and gave me his wife's cell #. "She'll know what it's about? I asked. "Oh yes." he replied. Two can play at this game. I gave the # to Samm. She was scared, but she did it. I kinda insisted. 

   I was prepared to have her be a bitch or maybe open negotiations. Neither happened. She held her twisted ground with a litiny of reasons. The caution tape? Oh that's because someone sued a neighbor for 2 million dollars and won. Satan? It's so hard to decorate the barn for Halloween- they just leave it up. The bikes? Oh they'd been dropped off at sis's and she hoped someone would take them. The grass? They just like it long. "She's sweet." Samm said.

    I was not prepared for such evil.   

       

DREAM TEAM

  I became an  artist so I could work alone. I've always been a bit of a control freak. And why the fuck not? I know what I'm doing and I know what I want and how to do it.....that is most of the time. In fact it wasn't until the 80's that I was forced to admit that i couldn't do it all. It came as quite a shock. But then I realized that relinquishing a bit of control to others could be rather satisfying. And when one goes into  full on collaborative mode all kinds of good shit happens.

   Now, as in all collaborative projects, what matters most is who you are working with. When I started MO DAVID GALLERY my "stable" included Tony Labat, Karen Finley, Tony Oursler, Les Levine, Robin Winters, David Ireland, Stelarc, Katherine Sherwood, and others. When I started my band PURPLE GEEZUS, it included guitar legend Jerry Williams and infamous rhythm section THE WORKDOGS (Rob Kennedy and Scott Jarvis). When I started my church THE LITTLE GREEN MAN it was with Carlo McCormick, THE WORK DOGS, organist Jerry Williams and a congregation of L.E.S. luminaries too vast to mention. But what has anyone done with me lately?

   Well, WSSP has been one of those tough projects made easier by having a great crew. First and foremost there is lead carpenter and right hand man Al Blanchard. Al can do it all and usually does. Al helped me put the steeple on the LGM church and wouldn't take a dime for it. I bought him a 12 ga. turkey gun. This year he shot his first tom with it. It had $100 tag on his leg. Payback. Then there's electrician Steve Snyder. He comes in bitches about the cold, cusses the neighbor, pulls a wire and gets the job done before you can turn around. Brother Bird is a hired gun, when I need him and new member Jason "the kid" K. is a plumber par excellent. Morris Cooper is my septic/shrink. Bill Goetz my well driller,  and of course who could forget my architect, designer and co-pilot Shewho. Dimensions? Who needs dimensions.  I can't say this bunch makes my life easy, but without them I'd never be able to do this one. They are the dream team. Gotta wreck of a house you want to save? Call me. Bring it on.     

ABRACADABRA

SK

SLAB TO SHINGLE....

....in less than two weeks. After two years of restoration work on the old part of WSSP and site work on the half acre parcel, Al Blanchard and I put up the addition in no time at all. And, to be honest, Al set the pace and did most of the framing and sheathing. AND don't forget the roof. Al has been so happy not to be picking away on the old structure, he even agreed to put on the roof. There aren't too many roofs Al will agree to do these days. He's a master at it but, anyone who has put on a roof will tell you, it's a particularly hot part of Hell. So now, the house looks like Samm's computer rendering.

   Then there's the weather. A southern jetstream is wrecking havoc. It's wet. Yet, the LGM was smiling when Al put the last shingle on the ridge, and the sky's opened up. To help with the overflowing springs, we've transplanted high swamp ferns, a blueberry bush and a bunch of water sucking flora onto the wettest parts. The property is taking shape. Then there's the neighbors.... 

 

GUILTED, FLATTERED AND CAJOLED

In Public!  OK, in my defense, I would like to point out that blogging is the MO thing and I'm the reticent newbie.  So to start with, I'll dip my citygirl painted toes into the blogosphere with pics of WSSP doings and plannings.  Unlike MO, who spends all day every day IN the project, I'm generally stuck in the city with visions of drywall dancing in my head.  So naturally, I've cooked up a virtual version of the house on my computer so I can move walls, pop windows in and out, change colors at will, and even landscape the property.   So far it has one tree - just for scale.

It's nothing like being there but it helps me pretend.  

SK

THREE BIKES FOR SATAN

  Let me sincerely apologize to those of you who faithful visit my blogs only to see the same old post day after day. It's the fucking computer's fault. And when I say this I mean not only the machine, but the connection, blogspot, the phone company and any and all things attached. I've been trying to post for over two weeks, to no avail. My "cookies" were fucked up in some way. Do you know what cookies are? Good. Because I don't have a clue. Finally Samm fixed it. Seems she'd rather do that then make a post of her own. This is supposed to be a collaborative blog. When I hear that word I reach for my gun. I cajole, flatter and encourage my collaborator. But does she pony up? I don't think so. For years she has felt no shame in guilting me into regular blog postings. Whatthefuck?

   Anyway here's the update. Today Al Blanchard and I put up the rafters on the addition. You heard right. Since I've been gone, we've gotten up the addition. And I've lined up a well driller. I don't want to speak too soon, but the LGM willing, we will have a drilled well and plumbing soon. The pace has picked up. We've cut drainage ditches everywhere and so far so good. Samm has been coming up on the weekends doing layout and painting. Two weeks ago she saw the neighbor (yeah, that one) pushing a bike up the road. She leaned it against Satan's nose and disappeared back down the road. Then a little later she came back with another one, never saying a word. The next morning there were three.  I can only speculate that it is some sort of offering to the dark lord. Maybe at night he wraps his six legs around them, and pedals up and down the midnight ridges.  Yes, we still have some issues to resolve.