Member-only story
Snapshot Scribbles—UNLV pg76
Colorful companion to my memoir The Incompetent Psychic
Back at my parent’s house in Walnut Creek I tried again to find some way to make some money. Stella had two days off from Banana Records and suggested we visit her cousin Hank in Tahoe. Yes, of course. Hank and three friends were renting a five-bedroom house on the Kings Beach golf course. I had just turned twenty-one, so during that disco dancing weekend with Stella and the boys, I stopped by the casinos on the CalNeva border and got hired as a change girl at a slot machine palace. Then I rented the mattress on the floor of the fifth room for a month, and made some change before heading south to the Las Vegas end of Nevada for my senior year. — From Chapter 3
In the chaos of constant movement, crap jobs, poverty and booze of my youth one thing was a constant. I would carry a small pack of art supplies of some kind to sketch, scribble, scumble and make more marks. I couldn’t afford a camera or film and seldom stayed anywhere long enough to pick prints up from a developer, so sketched my snapshots to record places and people. Instead of today’s, “Could you text me that picture?” it was, “Oh thanks… here, you can have it.” I wonder if anyone kept any of those drawings that fluttered out of my sketch pads to anyone who said, “Nice.”
