Overcoming Vitalism in an Alive-biased Society!!!
3:45 Walked from the school to the EMT building in the afternoon to be an active participant in the community and an asset to our great town. I tap the code into the door and enter the ambulance garage. Ambulances use to remind me of the oldest location of my church which was half ambulance garage, half tiny random building at the opposite side of a four lane street. Now they just make me think of zombie-love, but whatever. No one else is there.
4:00 A guy shows up. Actually, we're suppose to start at 4, but I chose to go early because it's much easier to walk to the building than make my mother escort me to and eventually from a building 15 minutes away - for a rough total of an hour. Other volunteers are suppose to be coming at 7. Anyway, this guy. Let's call him John. He is deliciously ironic, without being sarcastic (Thank you APLA teacher today for that distinction). He actually paints for a living but he is volunteering in this case, so he brings not only a wealth of experience to compensate for my total lack (watercolors etc are not quite the same), but also a few brushes and the white we are to use to paint over the white wall. ...But the new color is lighter. John is 24 years old, apparently played video games through college, including RE, and can stand to listen to an immature highschooler chatter about fictional zombie plots with no evident sign of boredom. Has some suggestions along the lines of a character based off of himself. I take to him very quickly.
We cut the first room (line the edges in preparation for the rollers), him on bottom, I on... side. 'Tis great fun, and part way through, I pop into the second room in order to remove all the chairs and desks. No small feat and I am quite proud - I need these small reminders that I am not always
a pudgy grey lump onna swivel chair. Resume cutting.
4:30:-ish. Company shows. I am tired, slightly paint splattered, exhilarated. The drive to create is upon me and I have permission from John to paint designs on the bricked walls, which will not appear lumpy after the rollers pass through. He himself was apparently making Bob Ross styled happy little lines in a corner. I am dreaming zombies (ugh, not new news by now) and have access to a pail of paint, a brush, and giant concrete canvases. Brief imitation of Reg Shoe with a paint can, in celebration of Discworld, RERP, and revolutionary speeches everywhere.
"Undead: NOT un-person!"
"Stand up and be counted!"
It's probably the closest thing I'll ever come to graffiti, but it was very amusing as more and more people began to arrive. Some went at them with rollers (I filled in unreached indentations with my faithful oversized brush) and they were starting on the second room by the time I left, at 7. Am still
speckled white, in spite of shower. I had a pretty good time. ... And one day, I hope to make a John the Painter who paints over the world's blood (or coffee?!) splattered sets so they can be reused in the next scene.