#onlyatgsu

A Copper Dragon

The night I drew this was an interesting night.  It was a night where I came to realize that class knows no income bracket.  I live in Statesboro Georgia, beside the campus of Georgia Southern University.  The students don't seem poor, considering how much they spend on luxuries and booze I can't imagine they are in a low income bracket, what they don't earn I'm sure daddy picks up.

As I arrived on this pitch and sat down a group of students approached.  They were somewhere between rabble rousing frat guys and uncouth rednecks.  The first interaction I had with a passer by was one of these young men throwing a full can of beer on the ground for no reason I could understand except to soak my pitch and try and assure that I not draw there.  One of his friends was kind enough to help me try and stop the flow and keep it from running down the incline to make the entire sidewalk unusable.  After soaking up what I could with what little extra cloth i had on me the flow was stifled and the night was saved. 

When I do these sidewalk drawings I put out a tip hat, I rarely make much money, just a little bit for some soda and snacks, by no means a real income, lol.  I try and keep an eye on my hat but on this night, for a brief moment I had to take my eyes off of it as a group passed.  Once they had passed I glanced toward my hat and realized that a couple of the bills that were there a moment ago were no longer there.  I had gotten dipped.  Someone in the group had dipped their hand into my hat and taken a few bucks.

It amazes me sometimes, this town.  For years I drew on sidewalks in Atlanta.  A major city, often late into the night, with raving crackheads and desperate homeless people always nearby.  Yet in all my time there, surrounded by what most people might call the dregs of society, I never worried about my hat.  I never feared being robbed or even pestered by the people around me.  They knew me, they liked what I did, they were often very polite, sometimes striking up conversation but most often just leaving me alone to paint the pavement.  But since coming to Statesboro I've had my hat taken, kicked over, and now dipped.  I've been called names, told that I need to get a job(I do, they're just scarce for chubby male bartenders here), and had people spit on my drawings as I worked.

After my years in Atlanta surrounded by people the Students of Georgia Southern would consider beneath them and my years here surrounded by the so-called future of America I've come to a conclusion.  Class is not dictated by income or upbringing.  Some of the worst people I've ever encountered live here in this small white bread town.  The fact that threats to my being and property are greater here in this place than they ever were while living among the night crawling crackheads of the city tells me a lot about the youth of our nation.  

Only 2 things keep me chalking here.

 #1 I have fans.  There are those who have been very nice to me and I have met some very cool young people who have treated me very well and love what I do and it is partially for them that I keep doing it.  

and #2, there is a segment of the population here, a classless bunch who have no desire to do anything more than harass and belittle everything they don't understand and can't accomplish.  This segment of the population seems to want nothing more than to make me quit and harass me into never painting their pavement again. What this segment fails to realize is that I am an asshole.  And if painting the pavement offends them so much then that is reason enough for me to do it, often, and with great enthusiasm.  Every time I paint the pavement it is my way of telling those unfortunate future inmates and wife beaters to go fuck themselves.