Art Intimidating Life: The Ruins of my Mental Empire - Part Twenty One

he taught us well, and given some time, one could even learn to love him and his methods - unsound as they may be, as unusual as they seem, given time one could learn to understand and appreciate the man and his work - despite being of average build for a man of his age, he looked like dwarf - his eyes were uneven and his forehead seemed to be weighed down by the things he saw, and the things he'd seen in his life time - i don't know for sure, but i had the feeling he'd seen some things in his time - it was not only written in the wrinkles and permanent frown on his face, in the way his eyes would calmly stare through yours, and torment something deep and unknown within you - he taught us with torture, and he taught us well

mental torture that became physical torture upon it's own accord - like a bad dream or nightmare where nothing really that bad or weird or disgusting takes place, but you wake up terrified nevertheless - that was his discipline - a look and a weird grimace would send you into a searing bout of mental convulsions that ensured you never made the same mistake again - it was also painful to see others in the class get taught their lessons - they were my friends and they gagged themselves stiff in agony whenever he found them to be doing wrong, or incorrect.

he taught outside - i remember quite often the sky to be a pinkish grey and we were on top of a hill or small mountain - we would sit at tables of two and i sat next to a young artist girl who later became my friend - he would walk amongst us and maze himself through the tables - talking and teaching his wisdom - he wore a wizards hat, that one could assume once belonged to a wizard friend of his - and he'd poured mayonnaise over his hat and head the same way an academic would point their fingers or move their hands as they spoke - he emphasised his whole being with mayonnaise - mayonnaise that seemed to bounce off him like hail stones - my young artist girl friend and i never once questioned the use of mayonnaise - we had seen the repercussions of doing so.

he was present at my birth, or so i've been told - i often wondered if that was why he tormented me more than the others - he was my teacher, but he may have also felt as though he had a fatherly role to play in my life - he'd grab my shoulder at times, from behind and send hellish demon shrieks straight down one side of my body - one side only, so that the other side could watch and experience the unknown-terrors of hell - like a child witnessing a rape, however he found a way to use this type of torment, terror and abuse to educate and empower the individual - it's clear to say this wasn't an easy process as a student - however over time, those seeds begin to sprout, and you begin to realise, and you learn to love

the last time i saw him he was walking out of a church - it was the day before my last assessment and of this he was well aware - we spoke shortly of the weather and the woman he'd had sex with inside the church - he wished me luck and told me to say hello to my mother - tipped his hat to me and assured me that i would do well and that i was also a good student to him - before saying a final farewell, he placed his hand on my shoulder - the agony and putrid pain still remained, however at the end i felt a slight tingling of ecstasy throughout my whole body - continuing on my way, i thought about the beautiful meaninglessness of all people everywhere