“Mini State of the Workshop Address – 16 Aug. 2018” by Richard F. Yates

pain portrait

Greetings citizens, this is Richard F. Yates, and I’m here to give you the skinny and the low down and possibly the 411 on the P.E.W. and its primary contributor (aka: me.) You may have noticed a slight decrease in the Primitive OUTPUT as of late, and this is primarily because I’m tired and sore and braindead. To the shock and surprise (and in a few cases “excitement”) of the family, I’ve once again joined the ranks of the gainfully employed. Last weekend, I DJed both Saturday and Sunday (you might have seen my posts about those gigs), then I had Monday off, and Tuesday I started working as an hourly employee at one of those fancy, seasonal Halloween stores! (Employee discount? Yes. Do they sell black lights? Yes indeed…)

Funny thing is, after spending most of the last ten years at a desk (helping people write papers and doing my own writing and drawing), and with only a small detour as a screen-printing intern, I have somehow allowed myself to fall, somewhat, into disrepair. In other words, I’m old, broken, and very out of shape. However, over the last three days, we at the store have been packing boxes and running nearly amok, trying to put together the retail space, and I’ve been not just on my feet, but in constant motion, each day, until I was nearly dead. The first day, I got so tired that I was shaking and felt sick! (Out of SHAPE! And possibly dehydrated.) The next day, things were a bit easier, but still HARD WORK. Today, I was in constant motion, wheeling box after box from the back room to the sales floor and putting it in its appropriate area. It was TOUGH…walking and bending and walking and lifting and walking and walking and walking… (I think retail might be a young person’s game—SETTING UP a retail space is definitely for the young folks…)

I have a blister on my left foot. My right knee is swollen up like a puffy grapefruit. My lower back feels like I’ve got little needly splinters stabbing into it, and my shoulders are very sore. All the people at the job sight are younger than me by 10 to 20 years (or more), and it’s kind of funny because they keep asking me, “Are you doing okay?” or “Are you making it?” I must have looked awful, but I kept right on going through the pain (although now that I’m home I’ve got the ice-pack out for my knee and my back!) Pain pills before bed are going to be a necessity for a while.

Meanwhile, I’ve been so busy “working” that I haven’t had time to write or draw much! And I’ve had no energy to COMPUTE (which is all the stuff like putting my images on t-shirts, sharing my posts on various social media, or going back and editing things and making books and such. And I completely forgot about this week’s Sharkey story!!! (Sorry. Whenever I get my next day off, I’ll make sure and get that finished.) I have been doing some reading (particularly at night, while I wait for the ibuprofen to kick in, so I can fall to sleep), so I’ll have some new book reviews pretty soon (again, hopefully by my next day off—although I don’t know when that will be.)

I am hopeful that having another paycheck will allow us to pay some overdue bills and get some groceries (both pretty cool), but now that I’m a wage slave again, my creative energy might be in short supply for a bit—at least until the HEAVY LIFTING is over. I’ll try to keep to at least posting once or twice a day, but I’m not going to guarantee that anything will be particularly GOOD or FUNNY. (I know what you’re say, “So things are going to be like normal?” Very amusing…)

And that’s about it for this State of the Workshop Address. At this point, I’m still active, but in a lot of pain and a little low on the creative juices. But regardless of the suffering, (my Uncle Randy used to say, “Pain builds character!”) we’ll just try to KEEP THE BOAT AFLOAT!!! Alright, get lost…

—Richard F. Yates
(Primitive Thoughtician and Supreme Bunny Lord of The P.E.W.)

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About richardfyates

Compulsive creator of the bizarre and absurd. (Artist, writer, poet, provocateur...)
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