My Library

Al Brod called. "What? Are you chicken shit or something?" He was angry. Arthur C. Twitchell called, a member of the board of the ASPR, and always a gentleman. "No," I said. Osis called again. "No," I said. Twitchell called again. "How about $80 instead of $50 per day?" I paused. "I want the agreement reinstated that I will do Osis’s work 50 per cent of the time, and that we’ll follow up on my ideas the other 50 per cent. I also want no more flack from the board. If there’s any more flack, I swear I’ll somehow go public and name names. It’s straight-forward fucking hardball from now on." "I’ll get back to you shortly," Twitchell said. Osis called. "Vatever ju vant, Eengo." "I’ll think about it." THEN! Charles Honorton called, a member of the ASPR board, a member of the cabal who had voted not to publish the Osis/Mitchell paper, and the figure who forced the early removal of my paintings from the ASPR. "Why don’t you think about coming out to the dream lab sometime? We would like to show you around." "I’d be delighted," I said. There was an understandable bottom line, I think. Eighty dollars sounded very good to one who had only $10 plus change to one’s name. Surely this was a circumstance that could victimize just about anyone. So I presented my fat body at the ASPR at 1 p.m. in the afternoon of 12 June 1972.