A Trial in Compromise: Verdict

So, it's true — Nathanael Roney currently has a show attached to the walls of the Washington County Arts Council's downtown gallery, to coincide with the 15th annual Western Maryland Blues Festival. In January of this year, two offers of intended image were declined — the third was accepted and drastically re-drawn by sources unknown. Roney was not informed of the acceptability of this practice. He found this ironic, being it his most professional project to date, and has since replaced his frustration with a unique brand of artistic snobbery.

The Show has been unofficially titled Jokes, and that Modern Shit. With Jokes, and that Modern Shit Roney intends to umbrella the most late collection of work. Said work was born in the extent of the last and amassed for exodus — a personal homecoming. Hagerstown, Maryland is hardly home for said work, nor that of its author. Roney intends to confuse the relationship we've so naturally been disposed below. Jokes, and that Modern Shit will sit among much work and space alike, offering not once an exclusive self — the urgent will judge its inclusion, whose space is wide and whose sight is short. Jokes, and that Modern Shit is work in transit and prepared to wander. each Joke and Modern Shit was apt for title but without charge. Jokes, and that Modern Shit was an exercise in practicality whose results remain inconclusive. The show was hung by A Bigger Roney than Roney.

Some Jokes are words, and available here:

White Man, Black Man cross road
Eye was told which one was which.

The only thing worse than a squeaky brake is the fat foot on its heel.

If eye could be so bold as to suggest the omnipresent Idiot Case is below my jurisdiction, eye will.

Get beat up. What more direct path to experience, wisdom and general mind? What better than that of all that is not violent than to get beat up?

A colleague of mine asked me this the other day — so, do you still like your wife? This was cold, casual and without context — quite simply, there was a water cooler to our side. Do you still like her? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? eye said. Chatting, he said.

Another man eye know has a difficult time acknowledging my presence when eye publicly acknowledge his. Nervously yuck, he ticks his way through our Nothing, our normalcy. You come to my house, eye say. You pull my records, you drink my tequila, eye say. You have trouble looking me in the eye? My presence discomforts you? This my unfriend is why eye don't like you in my house, eye say. This my friend — now friend — this is what eye say.

Eye hang thy plant in animate show
Thy holiness knows thou plant must grow.
But what beneath this breath doth roam?
Thy plant in death, thou fruit in tow.

Shit's personal — eye can't imagine it any other way.

Eye've yet to meet a cocktail coaster that can keep up with me.

Eye think those who go to church must have to pay to go to church and those who preach at church must accept its pay. This would insure the self-reliance of prophecy — or prophecy — the adaptation of self.

Eye might live by one continuous soundtrack that is neither here nor there — vacant by what eye might or might not be allowed to see or say. This might be.

Eye met a calm and collected man named samuel — a golfer in a bar. He approached me and left quietly. Eye like the name Samuel — Henry, Harold, Dot . . . Betty, Bill — these are good ones, too.

Eye got word you found no reserve in keeping your hand to yourself and eye do not appreciate this — but for your sake, your public sake — eye'll just write it down.

Eye invest my precious on the breath of creation. Eye cannot submit this process to a tiny, able beast who's sole plight seems to be that of destruction and wild fury. Eye used to think eye deserved more than any petty good who'd invite a wild animal into its home.

The Comic Pen Pal collects for the Library Not.

Eye want to ride a horse, but eye scared.
Eye want to ride a mule, but eye won't.
Ass, well.

By the time eye die eye hope my feet hurt.
Eye hope eye die in a place eye hope to save.

But remember my friend, remember never to ride ahead, even if only to check the horizon for those behind. They'll despise both sides of your word until they see — and this they will forget to do.

Its ok — eye don't belong here. And as far as eye'm concerned, eye appreciate the excuse.

The two kids across from me look scraggly — their dad even more so. If eye were twice my size he'd look like my kid. Except his hair is blonde and his wife without joy — he can't be my kid.

When eye am approached by my waiter to take my order eye feel eye should stand. How comfortable we would be sharing this exchange on foot, standing like Men (again) — clear, calm, and collected (again) — that some thing we avoid in sake of service.

Eye am not in the agenda of mood — so, neither are we.

Three Simple Ways to Change Culture for Potential Good:

1. Issue clothing — swipe a large portion of consumerism from identity, limiting expression to the thoughts and concepts of the body's physical, ideological self — empowering the same self no man can buy. To issue clothing is to employ the same opportunity as one's first breath.

2. Fuck all ya heard — this list is obnoxious enough already. Eye like issued clothing because it feels heavy, does not break, and holds a capacity for both intimidation and that lazy pulse of irony.

3. Eye find it funny that one that may be deemed Easily Distracted is deemed so with mostly negative consequence. Eye am Easily Distracted. Eye consider me to be Observant, or Focused — the complete Anti Thesis of what you may deem me to be. Eye find many Hardly Distracted folk to be Closed, Without Words, and Deaf.

Point being, eye think eye on failed model — one tired mode. To be tired and without trust, as one might be, is to be of fear — and to kid oneself would be a Joke. At best, my mold shed for you.

On the third day of June, Roney and another Roney will visit Hagerstown, Maryland to confirm these sentiments.