Thursday, October 24, 2013

The Patron

   photo montage by aleXander hirka - click on image to enlarge


The Patron ~ by T. Remington
      When the fever is on, Distance doesn’t go in to work. Gladys knew this before she moved in, but back when she had her own place, it was simply further evidence of how dedicated Distance was to her art. Gladys remembers now how it seemed that that eccentric and fascinating artsy woman seemed to move a lot. Gladys had moved exactly once since coming to the city after school: in with Distance.
      Now she rises wearily, glances in at the flurry in the studio and pours coffee. She decides not to say anything to Distance about that guy who was here last week saying he represented an investor; the one who took some photos and left his business card.
      Distance Blue knows she’ll be the most influential painter of the decade and just hopes Gladys sticks around to keep the rent paid until the big break hits. Still, she hates the concessions required. Gladys always expects a kiss when she leaves for that shit job downtown and then the sex. Distance determines that she’s got to set a boundary there and reaches for a smaller brush.

Word. Word. Two words. A sentence. No, not that word. That paragraph makes no sense here. Andy has perfected his system of typed pages cut out and stapled together in the sequences that work. That fancy ass computer that his sister sent sits in the corner, covered and ignored. The stack of stapled chapter nine is just about right; tonight he’ll start the first rewrite. First though there are six briefs to proof and he probably should have something to eat. 
      When his first book was published, he was over the moon. At last! Now he looks over at the bottom shelf of his bookcase to count sixteen solid, squatty blue copies of “One Into The Next”. He won’t be hearing from that publisher again he supposes and what a surprise that his agent doesn’t return his calls. 
       He wonders about that odd conversation he had with that guy last week, the one who caught some of the pages Andy had dropped on the train. The guy struck Andy as someone who actually read books.

Maxwell hates that term angel investor, but sitting across the desk from another eager dreamer, he supposes there are worse things to be in this life. This kid, though, there’s nothing to work with here. The plans are not well presented and the guy has obviously not thought this idea through. He’s got a germ of something here, but like too many of the other hungry schemers that find Maxwell, the kid thinks all he has to do is seduce the guy with the money and he’s on his way. 
      It’s a drag to say no, but Maxwell has his other investments to consider and some of them are on the verge of paying off. Those are the ones he needs to nurture and bring along. He’s also got a couple of potential prospects that his nose to the ground, Sidney, has sniffed out. He opens Sid’s folder and shuffles through the documentation, pausing to size up the work. There are excerpts from what is going to be one hell of a novel if it gets a chance, but judging from these photos of finished and half finished paintings someone is barking at the moon.