(THREE BIG CHORDS)
GK: I write because I have to write, I paint because that's what is in me to do, I compose music because it's who I am, I didn't choose to be an artist, it chose me, creativity is my life, I don't know why people can't understand that.
(BIG ARPEGGIATA THEME, APPASSIONATO, AND UNDER....)
TR (ANNC): The Story of Bob, A Young Artist....brought to you by Rainbow Motor Oil and the Rainbow Family of Automotive Products.
(VIOLIN THEME, AND UNDER....)
(DISHES BEING CLEARED FROM TABLE)
SS: You care for another helping of cheesy noodles, Bob?
GK: No thanks, Berniece. I feel pretty full.
SS: They sure hit the spot, don't they. I put a little extra paprika on them just for you. You care for more, Pops?
TR (POPS): I'll take a rain check. My stomach's a little gassy today. How about you, Rex? (DOG PANTING) Huh? you care for some more cheese noodles, old boy? (DOG THUMPS HIND LEG AS NECK IS SCRATCHED, COLLAR JINGLES, PANTING)
GK: I'm heading down to Rexalls for some colored pencils, Pops -- - you want me to pick you up a box of bicarbonate?
TR: Sure. That's be nice. The mint flavored. Don't care for the cherry. Gives me the trots.
SS: So whatcha been workin on all morning, Bob? you were quiet as a mouse in your little studio there. Didn't hear a peep out of you.
GK: I'm working on a motet, Bernice, called the Sunrise Motet.
SS: I see. What's that about?
GK: (SIGH) Why do you always ask me that?
SS: I was just curious.
GK: A work of art is not "about" something, for crying out loud. It is something. It exists on its own terms. Cripes.
TR: Is it about sex then?
GK: If you must know, it's about rebirth.
SS: I thought your novel was about rebirth.
GK: You know, just because a person writes a novel on the theme of rebirth doesn't mean that he can't write a motet about rebirth. I mean, there isn't a law that says you can only do one thing, is there? Criminy. You people.
SS: Well, don't get your undies bunched up over it.
GK: I do not have my undies bunched up.
TR: Speaking of undies, who's gonna run over to the laundromat and put that load in the dryer?
SS: What happened to your novel, Bob? --- I remember you were working on that when Uncle Bernie went upstairs and hung himself with the extension cord.
GK: I've got to rewrite it. It just doesn't hold together.
SS: Boy, there's a day I won't forget anytime soon.
GK: The part where this fungus attacks them and they hide at the ski resort and there's a mudslide and he's adopted by Iroquois Indians ---- it just doesn't work somehow.
SS: He came and asked me where was the extension cord, and boy, if I'd known what he was going to use it for, I never would've told him.
GK: I'm thinking I'll change it to a migrant worker camp so I can use my Spanish.
SS: I guess he was down in the dumps over his Toyota having all those transmission problems.
TR: So when are you going to write a big best-seller there, Bob, so we can all clear out of this dump and move to someplace nice and warm like Tampa, huh? Old Rex is sure gettin tired of these winters, aren't you, Rex? Huh? (DOG THUMPING, COLLAR JINGLE, PANTING) Yep.
GK: I don't know how many times I have to tell you, Pops. I'm an artist and an artist does not sell his soul just so he can earn a snootful of money and buy a mobile home in Tampa, Florida. That's not who I am. I am not some wheeler dealer, I'm a creative person.
TR: Well, why not create something that people want to buy?
SS: Now, Pops, don't you go getting Bob all up in a lather now--- anybody care for some coffee? Water's boiling. Got decaf if anybody wants.
GK: No thanks. I've got to get back to my studio.
TR: Thought you were going to get me some bicarbonate.
GK: I've got to finish a woodcut first.
TR: Thought you were working on your motet.
GK: I am. And I'm also finishing up a woodcut, okay?
TR: Okay, okay, don't bite my head off.
GK: It's a whole series of woodcuts, called Symbiosis 13. If people wouldn't keep bothering me all the time, I would've finished it years ago.
SS: Well, I'm sure they're real nice. You care for coffee, Pops?
TR: No, not with this heartburn, I better not. When you reckon you might be heading for the drugstore?
GK: I don't know. When I'm done.
TR: Maybe you could get a box of milk bones for Rex, too. What do you say, Rex? you care for some milk bones? (DOG THUMPING, COLLAR, PANTING) huh? sound pretty good? coupla milk bones to go with those cheese noodles? huh?
GK: Stop that!
TR: Stop what? (DOG STOPS)
GK: Stop scratching his ears and making his hind leg pound on the floor. Criminy. You sit there morning, noon and night making his hind leg pound and I can hear it in my studio, it sounds like someone's putting up Sheetrock. It's driving me nuts.
TR: But you ain't in your studio.
GK: I'm going in my studio.
TR: Well, you're not in there right now.
GK: That's not the point. I'm going to be in there. (DOG THUMPING, COLLAR, PANTING) Stop it! (DOG STOPS) (PAUSE) (A FEW THUMPS) I said stop!
TR: He's not hurting you.
GK: The dog is driving me out of my gourd. Why can't you people understand that I need a little peace and quiet? (A FEW THUMPS) Stop! (THUMP) I said stop it!
SS: You know, I think if everybody'd just have a cup of coffee, it'd settle down our nerves ---- I've got some apple crisp to go with it.
TR: Well, now you're talking. What do you say, Rex? care for some apple crisp? huh? (DOG THUMPING)
GK: I give up. I'm going to my studio. Don't interrupt me. Please. (FOOTSTEPS STALK OFF, DOOR OPEN, SLAM. FOOTSTEPS ON GRAVELLY SURFACE. GK SIGHS. SOME MOVEMENT OF FURNITURE. STRAIGHTENING OF METAL CONTRAPTION. PAPER BEING MOVED. SOME TRASH.) Studio. Ha. Garage is what it is. One bulb hanging down. Not nearly enough table space. Everytime I work on one thing, I've gotta pack up something else. No room to spread out. No file drawers or anything. I keep losing stuff. Still can't find chapter 5 of the novel, the one where they watch the sun come up and he finds out she's an Aries. Haven't seen that in years. I am just absolutely up to my neck in work here, and just trying to keep it organized, it's like a full-time job, and meanwhile people keep bothering me, the stupid dog is banging on the floor and ---- it's just constant harassment. People don't understand, an artist needs solitude so you can get into that place within yourself where your art comes from ---- you try to explain this over and over and they just don't get it ---- (HE SIGHS AND TRIES TO QUIET HIMSELF) (HE BREATHES DEEPLY) Okay. Back to work. They're standing on the bridge, Ariadne and Roger, and looking at the reflection of moonlight in the water, and she sings, (MUSIC) "There is in my heart a strange longing I cannot explain, for which there are no words." (FADES INTO MUSIC BRIDGE.)
SS: This is awful nice of you, Arvid ---- coming over to help with the furnace like this. How's your mother?
TK: She's okay. Hi, Pops.
TR: Hi, Arvid. How's it goin?
TK: Not so bad. How's yourself?
TR: Got a little stomach gas, that's all.
SS: Arvid says he doesn't think we're going to need a new furnace after all, Pops.
TK: Naw, probly not. Probly just needs a little coupler or something. Maybe a connector's missing. I'll take a look.
SS: It's been getting cold at night, and I just haven't heard the furnace come on at all, have you, Pops?
TR: Heard what?
SS: The furnace!
TR: Don't need a furnace with old Rex sleeping in my bed, do I, Rex? huh? (DOG THUMPING, PANTING, COLLAR) Old Rex gives off more heat 'n a log fire, don't you, boy? huh? huh?
TK: Where is the furnace, Berniece? In the basement?
SS: No, we ain't got a basement. Never got around to puttin one in. I don't know.
TR: It's over there by the stacks of magazine, ain't it.
SS: No, that's the water heater.
TK: How about here? (MOVES SOME JUNK) Nope, that's your shower stall. How about in here? (FOOTSTEPS. DOOR OPEN) Oh, hi, Bob. Didn't know you was in here.
GK: This is my studio, Arvid. Of course I'm in here.
TK: Oh. You got the furnace in here?
GK: I have no idea.
TK: We're looking for the furnace.
GK: I've never seen it.
TK: How about there in the corner?
GK: That's a sculpture I'm working on, it's called Phoenix.
TK: Oh. You don't know where the furnace is?
GK: I have no idea. I thought we got heat in some kind of a pipe- ---
TK: Weren't you ever curious about it?
GK: Arvid, I do not fix things. I am an artist. I create things.
SS: You care for some apple crisp, Bob?
GK: No!
TR: You gonna head down to the drugstore pretty soon?
GK: Why can't you people understand? I'm an artist. I have to do my art. It's who I am. I keep trying to explain this to you.
SS: I can bring you a dish of apple crisp in there if you like.
GK: No!
TR: You mind taking Rex with you when you go to the drugstore? (WOOF)
GK: Leave me alone! (SLAM DOOR) How can I get anything accomplished with these constant interruptions? Criminy! (THEME)
TR (ANNC): THE STORY OF BOB, A YOUNG ARTIST....was brought to you by Rainbow Motor Oil and the Rainbow Family of automotive products. Join us next time when we'll hear Berniece say....
SS: Pops and me have found a job for ourselves, Bob....
GK: Oh?
SS: We're going to be telephone sales representatives. We're going to sell hearing aids over the telephone out of our own home and earn up to 4% commission on every one we sell.
TR: That's right.
GK: Fine. So what are you telling me for?
SS: Pops is going to sell in the mornings, before he goes to the activity center, and I'm going to sell in the evenings, when I get home from my group meeting, and---- we were wondering if you'd like to take the afternoons....
GK: Berniece--- I am not a sales person. I am an artist. How many times do I need to tell you that?
SS: They're real good hearing aids.
GK: I don't care, I don't sell things. I am a creative artist. That's what I do.
TR: Well, you don't need to get so huffy about it.
GK: I'm not huffy. I'm emphatic.
SS: We need the money, Bob. The furnace is missing. Arvid couldn't find it anywheres. We need to buy one.
TR: And Rex needs his kidney stones removed, don't you, boy? (DOG THUMPING, JINGLE, PANTING) Hurts him everytime he has to tinkle, don't it? huh? huh?
GK: I don't know why I'm different from other people, but I just am, okay? ---- I have to write --- paint ---- compose ----
SS: You're thirty-seven years old, Bob, and you've never finished anything.
GK: That's not the point. I'm an artist ---- it's who I am---- and you people are trying to make me into someone else. Why? why can't you understand? (MUSIC UP)
TR (ANNC): That's next time on....THE STORY OF BOB, A YOUNG ARTIST. (MUSIC UP AND OUT)
© 1997 by Garrison Keillor