Literally Kicking Myself

Last night, after the show, we stepped out into the rain and began our walk to the bus. On this rare occasion, I was unprepared and grabbed a newspaper to serve as umbrella, the first sitting atop a jumbled mismatched stack outside the door. Several blocks later, the rain had stopped and we’d found a cement median to sit on while waiting. I opened the pages and perused the Eugene Weekly to pass the time, when my entire set of innards sank. There, peering back at me from the center amidst jumbled ads in a paper I absolutely never think to read was an ad touting a gallery showing of George Tice’s most recent works: Paterson. Not only were the works on display in Eugene (not an hour away at the University of Oregon), but he was giving a talk and subsequent book signing. My hopes were immediately crushed when I noticed the talk was to happen February 28th, 2pm. Not ten hours earlier. I wanted immediately to put the day on pause and rewind, or call Mr. Tice and tell him to stay just one day longer so I could sit down and have coffee personally.

Fortunately, the works will be on display until April 5th. Mr. Tice, however, has most likely returned to Jersey.

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