IF: Cocoon

Under My Drawing Table

I lived under my table for a semester in Art School.
(Flock of Seagulls Hair)
I caught Ringworm from the Bed Sore Padding I found in a Dumpster.

As much as I loved the Philadelphia College of Art (now UARTs), it was too expensive. I was able to scramble enough money to pay for my last semester tuition in 1984, but not for housing. I petitioned the Dean for 24 hour access to the 7th floor Illustration studio, since I was "such a serious student". Upon approval, I had a free pass when the Security Guards walked through on their rounds... snoring or not.

I used to dumpster dive for everything, carrying an army duffle bag over my shoulder as I skated through the city at night. I found an egg-carton type of bed sore pad that I used as a makeshift mattress. My friend Phong, a very serious painter, moved his cot into the studio, along with a rice cooker. Phong's rice and 7-11's 2 dogs for 99 cents kept me fueled.

It sucked living out of a 3 foot locker, and sympathetic friends would allow me to use their shower. It was the time of squatters-rights and hard-core DIY, so I didn't think twice about doing it. I was filthy - the ringworm was the icing on the cake.

The next semester came, and I didn't have the money for tuition, so I started my life as a carpenter and roofer... 12 years of grumbling and cursing. I thank Hiroshi and Nancy Murata for kicking me in the ass to go back and finish my degree. I was on a treadmill to self-destruction and self-loathing.

two cocoons... the one under the table, and the one in my head. Glad to be out of both.

click to enlarge the filth.