someday and it won't be long.

[mysteryscribe]

Edgar worked on the first potato picture, then saved it. After he finished he went back and in a whimsical mood made a silly poster from it. He finished with it just in time for the late news on Fox. Yes Edgar was a republican... even though he knew he shouldn't be.

 

[mysteryscribe]

The days marched on toward Saturday and his meeting with Tammy Smith. His curiosity grew, since he hadn't asked her near enough questions. Still it was only a two days trip how much did he really need to know. He shook his head, trying to clear if of the distraction.

Edgar had a thought the night before. He spent an hour over his coffee trying to dredge enough of the memory up to act on it. He couldn't pull the bit of meat from the chicken soup his mind was becoming. It might come back to him and it might not. Probably some great ideas had come and gone that very same way.

On day two Edgar found that his potato had not changed in any significant way. He left it in the window, then turned his mind toward the day's shoot. The one day, one shot rule had come about to keep his mind active after his wife, of many years, passed away. With her death, his life had changed completely and not for the better.

It was a shame that after all the years of struggling, she hadn't lived to see his minor success. His slight success was probably more about his circumstances, than his dubious talent. Not only was it well known in the arts community that Edgar was ill, and in serious danger of losing his mind, but also that he produced just a few prints. His low production was partly his illness, but also to some degree his lack of interest in accumulating wealth.

Edgar's life style suited him, he saw no need in improving his basic needs. His food was more than adequate, his house was warm and dry, and how many pairs of cotton twill slacks did a man need. Edgars life was basic, but basic on a comfortable scale.

And now of course he owned a convertible for the first time in his life. Being 63 years of age, the car was a bit of a joke to those who saw him in it, but he really didn't care at all. The open car reminded him of his youth in some ways. He had never owned a convertible, but still it was part of his lost youth anyway. The feeling of freedom, that even the small, under powered convertible gave him was a bit disconcerting every time he got in the car.

That morning instead of being the first person in the park, Edgar waited until the sun was high enough to make driving the yellow convertible a pleasant experience. He still had no idea what he would shoot as he drove from the parking lot. He knew that he could always find something while walking around the park. His bits of time caught on film, and then posters, were as popular as his still life posters. Still, he liked to have some ideas in mind before he left home.

At a stoplight Edgar found himself beside a rusty pickup truck. The truck was adorned with ladder racks on the rear bed, also a large aluminum tool tied to the top of the rack. The little magnetic sign on the truck's door read, 'Do it right alum Siding'. All that Edgar took in, but it was the highly tanned blond hair young driver drinking a can of soda that struck Edar. No Edgar hadn't become interested in men, at least not in THAT way. The image pulled something from his decaying mind. He remembered working for his dad as a youth. The memory was sitting on a saw horse drinking RC Cola and eating chocolate Moon Pies. Yes it was a cliche, but it was also true. A shared memory like that is what makes a cliche.

Edgar turned into the next strip mall with a grocery store and began his search. A search that took him to three stores before he found what he wanted. He couldn't find the cola in a bottle at all. It had to be a can of RC and a moon pie. Not quite right, but it would do. One day he might find the bottle at a yard sale or antique store.

 

[mysteryscribe]

film version

 

[terri]

An RC cola and a moon pie! :lmao:

As southern as it gets. :thumbup:

 

[mysteryscribe]

but time they are a changin... I had to be a box of cans of RC and a box of moon pies. That shot cost me 7bucks in props. I can drink the rc even though it isnt sugar free but the moon pies im not sure about. I had a huge moon pie ten minutes before my big heart attack. Kind of ruined the taste for me.

But I see that two ways. One a memory and two how the memory has been whored up lol

 

[mysteryscribe]

When Edgar woke on the Thursday before he met Tammy Smith, it was raining as if God was going to do it again. Edgar drank coffee while trying to decide if he wanted to make a picture that day or not. In the end, his promise to himself won out.

He searched the house over for something to shoot. He just couldn't find anything that sparked his imagination. The first pot of coffee was ru
nning low when he noticed two things in his small, enclosed rear yard.

The first thing he noticed was that the rose bush he had brought from his real home, had one single rose left on it. It looked close to the end of its life span. He wanted to do something with it before it was gone.

The second thing he noticed was that the grounds crew forgot to trim his bushes inside the privacy fence. Most of the owners complained about there shrubs being hacked on, so he guessed that the grounds crew left the plants inside the fence to the homeowners. Edgar didn't mind. The bush was about to get a haircut.

Edgar dashed out into the rain to trim the bush and cut the single rose. He was soaked when he finished but the rain had somehow refreshed him as well. He laid all the wet plant trimmings and the rose on the day's newspaper while he took his morning shower.

The vase was one his daughter had sent after his wife died. It had been filled with cut flowers. The kind his wife had loved so much. He kept the vase because it reminded him of both the women in his life. He didn't expound on that memory. instead he just moved on to fill the vase. He filled it with long green shoots from the bush and then the single rose low in the vase. He expected it to be a dramatic shot. Or maybe a complete bust, one never really knew which till he printed it. It was the true joy of the craft. It was also Edgar's daily battle, to find enough of his brain still working to make something of beauty. If not of beauty then at least appealing.

Some days he won, some days he lost, but he always fought the fight.

 

[mysteryscribe]

 

[mysteryscribe]

Taft was beginning to get really nervous. Meeting the woman that he would most likely be sharing a couple of days with made him antsy. One more day and he would know if it was to be a great adventure or a chore. He had day dreams of it going both ways. Everything for romantic kisses to a knife wielding Glenn Close ran through his mind.

He was adventurous and willing to take a chance, but he did wonder if possibly the decision to find a driver had been a foolish one. Still she was taking art courses at the college. She had a family, even if it was just children. The children were a positive, but the ex husband was a negative. There was some reason that he was an ex.

Edgar knew that he was just making himself crazy, so he tried to get his mind off his minor dilemma. He concentrated on Friday's image. The sun had finally come out, but the grass was still sparkling with drops from last night's rain. He chose to avoid the grassy park one more day.

When he checked the potato, he found it beginning to shrivel but not nearly ready for his next shot of it. He had eleven cans of R C cola in his refrig, but he had no idea that he could ever use them in a shot again.

It seemed to be a good day for concrete of some kind.

 

[terri]

awww.......thanks from me!

 

[mysteryscribe]

It was bedtime when Edgar finished the picture of the concrete lawn jockey. He went to bed with images of Tammy Smith running through his mind.

 

[mysteryscribe]

On Saturday morning Edgar arouse at his usual 6AM. Too many years of waking for breakfast with his working wife had carved a groove in his brain which time had failed to erased. Edgar had learned to cook, well in all honesty it was more to microwave frozen food. Nonetheless, he prepared his own breakfast. It consisted of microwaved frozen pancakes, with frozen link sausage also microwaved. The trick was to have them be at least warm at the same time.

All the animal fat and sugar were his weekend treats. On weekday mornings it was a bowl of crunchy bran cereal with a handful of dried fruit for taste. Either way after only a few minutes Edgar was ready to begin his day.

That Saturday morning his day was going to be a little less boring.
Edgar struggled with whether he wait at home, then go directly to the meeting, or go out to shoot his daily picture on the way. The decision had to be made before he left the house. The time of his leaving would depend on that decision.

Edgar spent several minutes drinking coffee while looking out at the wet grass. He knew that he should make a decision soon or his indecision would be the decision. Edgar decided that the time had come to take the bull by the horns. He turned on the TV to watch the morning news shows until time to leave for his meeting with Tammy Smith.

 

[mysteryscribe]

Taft had kept an open mind. He felt that he was prepared for Tammy Smith to be anything at all. He was wrong of course. Edgar was never going to be completely open minded.

The woman matching the description Edgar had been give had two children in tow. The kids were both hers there was no doubt of it. Either she and her ex husband were clones or he contributed nothing to the gene pool.

Tammy Smith was tall and stick thin. Not quite concentration camp thin, but damn close. She had a thick head of flaming red hair. She would have had the pale skin to go with the hair, had it not been for the end to end freckles that covered every exposed piece of her. The look could have easily been southern mill trash, but not on Tammy Smith. She rose above it to be a 100% yuppie princess. She lacked only the sweater tied around her neck and the tennis racket to make the stereotype complete.
The kids were both thin, pale and red headed. Their freckles weren't as noticeable as Tammy's, so maybe the husband had contributed something after all. Taft walked to the table where they all sat before he spoke.
"Hi, I'm Edgar. You must be Mrs. Smith." What he really wanted to say is, this isn't going to work out after all.

"Mr. Taft, I have been so looking forward to meeting you."

"Now that's hard to believe." Edgar smiled to let her know he didn't really mind the little white lie.

"Actually it's true. I have heard a lot about you."

"Nothing good I'm sure."

"The art department still runs the debate you had with that Professor from the physics department. I was curious so I learned a little about you after I saw it."

"Well I hope the debate didn't discourage you from continuing in the art department." He mentioned it because there were mixed opinions as to who had won the debate. Most felt he lost it. The more entrenched artist around thought he made all the right points so he won. Edgar felt it had all been a huge waste of time. He only did it because he was asked by his old friend the head of the art department. That and he didn't recognize it for the ego thing that it was till it was over.

"On the contrary, I felt that you were speaking directly to me. It's what got me more serious about my designs."

"Didn't you say you were involved with industrial design?"

"Yes but since starting in the art department, I have begun to design a line of jewelry. At the moment I am manufacturing it myself on a very small scale. The industrial design was of some use."

"You will most likely find that everything is of some use to a working artist." God that sounded pompous, he thought. Edgar tried to break the BS thread by mentioning her kids. "Well there is no doubt who the mother of those two is."

"There is also no doubt who the father is." She gave him a wicked smile before continuing quietly. "We had the same postman for years." Edgar couldn't help the smile.

"That hardly seems like the country club thing to say." He laughed happily.
"I'm learning a little more than my mother and father planned." She smiled again, but not so wickedly. She wasn't exactly flirting with him but she was trying to convince him that she would be good company on his festival trip. Against his better judgement Edgar relented in his mind. After about ten more minutes the arrangements were complete. They would meet at four AM at his condominium. She would leave her car there and drive the convertible for him to the festival. She explained the size of her exhibit so that he could make plans accordingly.

Edgar had planned to drive to some old barns on the way home, but decided against it. Instead he drove straight home with an idea burning in his head. He picked up a wine decanter on the way home.

He rummaged around his storage room until he found his old bridal bouquet. From it he removed a couple of roses. He set up the still life on his patio using a folding chair to hold the portable background his son in law had made for him.

 

[mysteryscribe]

Shot with a 25watt bulb for 8 min with asa 100 sheet film in a polaroid framed camera with retro lens

 

[mysteryscribe]

Edgar spent the next week living his routine. It was the only thing that gave his life any structure. However between the breakfast and the time he left to shoot his one morning picture, he worried about the coming weekend and the festival.

How would his latest work be received?

His mind was changing was it effecting his work? Questions he hoped would be answered at the River Walk Festival.

After developing it and while the new images dried, edgar worried about his future. How would he survive if he lost the ability to shoot pictures?

After he painted a while on whatever image he was working at the time, he worried about how his trip with the yuppie princess would go. Actually she was a bit old for a princess. She was at least in her late twenties. He didn't like the sound of yuppie queen. Even in his mind the sound of it made him smile wickedly. He decided to go with yuppie soccer mom.

The major thing the meeting had done for Edgar was to reassure him that the woman wouldn't become a personal issue. She had her life and he had his. Their two lives would just dovetail that one weekend, then never again. That was his plan and he was sticking to it. In the meantime he did one simple picture especially for the show. He tried to do one specially for every show. He always did it at the last minute to cut back on the time wasted agonizing over it.

Edgar chose to shoot a paper negative on Tuesday morning. He printed it out then did a thin color wash on the print after sealing it with a spray on poly material.

 

[mysteryscribe]

This thread have over a thousand hits... which proves something ......I'm not the only one with too much time on their hands....