The Chinese Pollock
If there's one thing you could say about Zhao, it's that this Chinese gent can be somewhat unpredictable. Of the litany of tales from the times we've spent together, the occasion when he drunkenly threw himself on cars in Beijing springs quickly (and traumatically) to mind.
Luckily, I can confirm they were parked at the time. Still, he managed to injure himself. The cars suffered not a dent...
Zhao recently got a new job that, like myself and George, will enable him to work within a half mile of our flat. The job offers him better prospects, pay and closer location. Feeling sad and uncomfortable about handing in his resignation after two years at his present company, Zhao decided to disregard all of the real reasons for leaving, to tell his boss that this was a pure lifestyle choice.
He told his boss that he was moving for the simple reason that he wanted to cycle to work!
And the boss (with a tear in his eye, presumably) swallowed it (not the bike, but you know what I mean!).
So it was, last week, that Zhao decided to celebrate his new employ by embarking upon some impromtu, improvised, acrobatic art. Spying a piece of hardboard (from the back of the wardrobe abandoned in the Ghetto around our flat) and some left-over paint from George's latest attempts at house-husbandry (painting the downstairs room in anticipation of his girlfriend, Claire moving in) Zhao first pondered...
...then decided to jump in. Quite literally...
On more than one occasion, George was required to carry out some fairly swift cleaning manouvres that were, if not acrobatic, certainly of the balance, poise and simple action that we have come to expect from the man with "the voice of reason"
If the creative action was spectacular, then the same could be said (though doesn't have to be) of the finished product. A result of swift dribbling, jumping and reckless flickery, it resembled a Pollock in everything but reality.
With the hardboard struggling to remain rigid in the face of the onslaught, the piece was seperated into four equal parts, that individually, look terrible, and together, don't look much better. Still, this was, as with Ghetto Cricket and our regular 'Seinfeld' nights in, another addition to the fine heritage of the Ghetto, and the random mythery of this London life.
All jokes aside (!), Zhao has declared his piece, entitled 'Requiem In White' for sale at the price of 100 of the Queen's finest currency. All email enquires directed to zhaoesq@hotmail.com.
Luckily, I can confirm they were parked at the time. Still, he managed to injure himself. The cars suffered not a dent...
Zhao recently got a new job that, like myself and George, will enable him to work within a half mile of our flat. The job offers him better prospects, pay and closer location. Feeling sad and uncomfortable about handing in his resignation after two years at his present company, Zhao decided to disregard all of the real reasons for leaving, to tell his boss that this was a pure lifestyle choice.
He told his boss that he was moving for the simple reason that he wanted to cycle to work!
And the boss (with a tear in his eye, presumably) swallowed it (not the bike, but you know what I mean!).
So it was, last week, that Zhao decided to celebrate his new employ by embarking upon some impromtu, improvised, acrobatic art. Spying a piece of hardboard (from the back of the wardrobe abandoned in the Ghetto around our flat) and some left-over paint from George's latest attempts at house-husbandry (painting the downstairs room in anticipation of his girlfriend, Claire moving in) Zhao first pondered...
...then decided to jump in. Quite literally...
On more than one occasion, George was required to carry out some fairly swift cleaning manouvres that were, if not acrobatic, certainly of the balance, poise and simple action that we have come to expect from the man with "the voice of reason"
If the creative action was spectacular, then the same could be said (though doesn't have to be) of the finished product. A result of swift dribbling, jumping and reckless flickery, it resembled a Pollock in everything but reality.
With the hardboard struggling to remain rigid in the face of the onslaught, the piece was seperated into four equal parts, that individually, look terrible, and together, don't look much better. Still, this was, as with Ghetto Cricket and our regular 'Seinfeld' nights in, another addition to the fine heritage of the Ghetto, and the random mythery of this London life.
All jokes aside (!), Zhao has declared his piece, entitled 'Requiem In White' for sale at the price of 100 of the Queen's finest currency. All email enquires directed to zhaoesq@hotmail.com.
posted by The Scribbler at 9:26 PM
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