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hs46150.jpgbuy prints of select halfsquatch photographs at etsy or dawanda. (prints of all photographs are available upon request) day 46

Raylene and Nicole were drunk and regaling Paula and Jeremy with the drama of how they snuck Rebecca out of Raylene’s house and to the airport. It was past deadline, but the paper’s editor was holding the front-page for the story. Paula was fidgety and annoyed and pressed the girls for details.

“Where exactly in Vancouver was she going? What was her plan?”

Nicole said some rich woman sent her money. “And she wanted one of those weird dolls she makes.”
Raylene slurred something about hippie art stuff and a hotel.

“Yoshi Oba,” Jeremy said under his breath.

“It sounds kinda sketchy if you ask me,” Raylene said. “But you know, whatcha you gonna do if you’re, like, some halfsquatch chick?”

While Paula was chasing the story, Lisa Richman lay half-propped on the sofa in the Richman living room watching it. “She not dead, Bob. She’s in Vancouver.” She fluttered a limp hand in the direction of the television. “It wwwas on the news.”

“Christ!” Bob dropped down beside Lisa. She bristled and reached for her beer. Since the news broke about Rebecca and the Lady Sasquatch she couldn’t bear for him to touch her.

“It’s gonna be fine.” Lisa was drunk and dismissive. “She’s with Yoshi Oba at the Art Motel.”

Lisa knew Bob would have no idea about Yoshi Oba or about the Art Motel and this gave her a smug pleasure. She had hung off the arms of Yoshi’s sofas and high-backed chairs when it was all black velvet and silver, in the early days of the Thursday salons, when Lisa still lived in the city and took moody photographs and kept a pet albino ferret.

She was never invited to stay at the Art Motel save for the times she’d befriended one of the male – or once, female — guests after a long night of drinking and drugs and heady, horny art talk. Yoshi Oba was very young then, not much older than Lisa, if at all. She met with her privately twice, once for coffee, and another time for drinks. Lisa had the practiced disaffection of a twenty-year-old art student and an inflated disdain for convention. Her photographs and short films mocked consumerism and suburbia. She rallied against homogeny by juxtaposing shiny brands with social consciousness: chocolate bars and anorexics; laundry detergent and homeless filth.

She won student awards and called herself a vegetarian but still ate fish, and greasy pork dumplings when she was wasted, which was often. She took pills for depression, but was never that sad. She did her days in the psych ward after a devastating break up. She dropped out of art school. She met Johnny Depp on the set of 21 Jump Street and knew he’d be a big, big star. Yoshi Oba called her work ordinary.

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                                                                                                                                                          ©2008 pamela klaffke