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Finding Tulsa 17

learn to make a good still, then move the picture. I always wiped up the
stains.
I didn’t know how to move these strange non-credit, non-tuitioned
skills into a career. With the exception of my wonderful years as the man-
ager of Woo Video, I think I’m one of the least hirable people I know.
While others have old lovers, I have old jobs. I quit jobs like stormy ro-
mances, lured by the security, the domesticity, bliss through repetition.
Storming out in a huff always worked best. Easing off left room for recon-
sideration, glossed-over polite farewells, all lies.
I was forced to become a director, a maker of projects. I like to see an
end, a completion to work and relationships. I’m like a lot of others who
felt a great relief with the collapse of the economy, the great heavy curtain
of Reagan’s Oz falling in embarrassment. This unveiling gave people who
always hated dumb work and dumb jobs and power structure a certain af-
finity. Dart in, out, take the money and go. Freelance. Free Lance.
Of course, I didn’t tell the businessclone on the plane all that. I told
him the Mexican puppets story. He gave me his number.