RUDIMENTS, pt. 483
(the floor under the floor)
Where would you put a third arm?
(the floor under the floor)
Where would you put a third arm?
That's a question, I've learned,
that's used on creativity assessment
tests, whatever they may actually
be. (Things have gotten weird
like that). I don't even know
if there's a 'real' answer, or a
few, or if anything is actually
better than anything else in
responding to what, in essence,
is a dumb-ass question anyway.
But, that's what they do. They
don't even say on what. I suppose
the 'assumption' that they just
mean one's own self is all part
of the creativity assessment.
Maybe they mean a statue or
a lamp? Or maybe an 'arm'y
coming in to battle, a flanking
formation, as of old, sweeping
in to surprise an enemy from
the left side, over the ridge,
running along the riverbank,
hidden. People don't really
know shit about anything,
and that question's a really
good case of proving that.
My thing is always more
about time anyway - how
much of it one needs, what
to do with it, how to weave
in and out of it. What is it
that's considered successful
anyway? A guy spends 5 days
doing his roof on his own,
and it's considered a 'success'
when it's done, except that
overlooks the more than certain
factor of stupidity in valuing
the money saved over those
5 days otherwise used up
when various alternatives
existed to have perfectly
qualified and willing roofers
do the job in a day and a half,
including clean-up. No one
looks at the self-squandered
time used up in a non-creative
effort. What's to be, ever,
creative about a roof anyway?
And who can be bothered?
-
Every designation remains very
liquid, able to be changed and
re-negotiated at will. To Hell
with someone 'assessing' your
creativity. What's that all about?
I used to think Life was about
fidelity - to who or what I
never really knew. To oneself?
To an idea? To others? To a
creed? What comes of any
of that? Fidelity to a creed
or a cause just brings conflict,
'fighting for the cause,' after
all, is just that. Why bother?
Nothing ever is what you
think it is.
-
Maybe the stupidest person I
ever met was, in Pennsylvania,
this floor-guy who came over
one evening to price a new
kitchen floor. The current
floor, as we moved in, was a
1930's linoleum, ancient, horrid,
stuff, worn, curled, and broken,
and the floor itself had a
hole or two in it. My wife's
parents were aghast, upon
seeing this, and set about
getting us a new floor,
immediately. So one late
afternoon/evening, this car
comes up and two guys get
out - with tape measures,
little pad, and all that. The
two of them, together, looked
a team of pill-pushers or maybe
cheap Jehovah's Witnesses,
maybe in training and just
out of lock-up. They start to
talk, telling us about their
products and choices and
all that. Not a real confidence
builder, let's say. They're doing
the dimensions of the room,
pulling up pieces, here and
there, checking corners, the
floor joists beneath, etc. The
soft lingo they used was floor
lingo, it just kind of flowed
along with the small talk.
It was OK; the estimated price
was like 900 bucks; we agreed
and signed, and it was done,
promptly and nicely, by - not
them - but a crew they sent.
What freaked me out though
was the guy's use of the word
'underlayment' (talk about
creativity assessment, that
word 'underlayment' jumped
right out at me). It just seemed
wrong, made-up, cheap, and
stupid too. As if God, on the
seventh day had suddenly
decided, instead of resting,
to say, 'I'd better check the
bulwark beneath all that
I've made.' These two guys
meant that the floor beneath
the floor also needed doing -
the large pieces of board that
make the floor what it is,
beneath any linoleum. I admit,
it all seems like nothing now,
and 900 hundred bucks bothers
no one, but back then it was a
ton of money, and we were
broke, and - even though
we weren't to be paying for
it directly, it was still a heap
of money. Had he just said
something like, perhaps,
'sub-flooring' or even just
the floor (which in reality
was all it was), I would
have been fine. But this
whole 'underlayment'
thing just made me ill,
as if I was being taken,
as if some high-school
quitter jerk had to use
a made-up form of what
he thought was probably
a big, fancy, technical
word that would be
impressive and would
grant me more ease
in forking over more
money to these impressive
documentarians of my
floorable needs. I pictured
him home, that night, on
top of his wife, saying,
'here dear, you be my
underlayment.'
-
To me the whole
underlayment thing
just meant more
payment. And it was.
And it was, to be factual,
probably where most
of their 'profit' came from.
I began thinking, had I
to decide to do this
project on my own wits,
how laborious, tedious,
precise, cumbersome,
and/or prone to error
or danger, the project
would be, and as a
trade off against my
'creative' use of time (a
concept right then of which
there was really none. My
time was all used up). I
decided it would not possibly
be worth it, plus I had no
skill at all in that line of
work (my 'floorability factor
was untested and raw). So,
yes, we signed, and the nice
job got done about a week
later. Underlayment and all.
I never saw those two again,
evidently they were sub-contractors
out of the local Troy hardware
store, but it all worked out.
-
The point was still 'creativity,'
I suppose - the doings and the
hows of tasks versus efforts. To
me, all of that would have just
been like a straitjacket, tightly
tied and woven around me, the
'trap' of an old day. Kitchen
creativity to me maybe would
have been (creatively) 'Hey,
while we'v got the linoleum
roll out let's just keep it going
and do the walls too.' A form
of 1970's conceptual art - the
'contained' room, linoleum,
top, bottom, walls and ceiling
too. And, Goddamn, don't
forget the underlayment.
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