Clay's thoughts one day in a life drawing studio

The Substitute
Crap, how long has it been? It must be almost time by now. The stool wasn't this hard when I started. Must be the way the edge is cutting into my leg. I sure wish that model had shown up. Bad idea, don't think about her. Breathe. Stare at that spot in the carpet. Did I just move my hand? (*muffled curse*) I guess I did. Do I move back now, or leave it as it is? Maybe if I try moving it back slowly...nope, that's not going to work, better leave it as it is. If I take art classes for the rest of my life, I will never complain about a model again. Why did I pick this pose? Give them some interesting angles, he said. This will be good foreshortening, he said. Sure - Mr. Model here, thinks he's a twenty-year-old. How come I sound Jewish all of the sudden? Funny, you don't look...ha. ha. You're a real comedian - jerk. What would you call this pose, anyway? Geezer with a stick? I'll have plenty of time to think about that. I won't be able to get out of this position until Tuesday. They'll have to call the EMT's to get my pants back on. How do real models do this without seeming to breathe? My chest is heaving up and down, they must be getting seasick looking at me. Where did that spot go? I've been looking at it so long it disappeared. Look at something else. Not at her. Now that leg's shaking again. Relax. That's it. Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out. Again. That's better. I'm sweating up a storm. How can it be so hot under this light? Why did I volunteer for this? How long has it been now? Sure wish that model had shown up. Crap...