Another charcoal: the Maitreya Buddha, and that time I blackmailed a mafioso's kid

I drew this in the only college-level art class I ever took: Drawing 101 in Anne Arundel Community College, MD. It wasn't the first charcoal I'd ever done, nor the first charcoal I was really proud of, but it was the first that taught me the technique of using a different color of paper and adding white back in with white charcoal. This is on grey paper, and the assignment was simple. The instructor brought in a figurine of the Maitreya Buddha he had from home, and had us draw it from where we were sitting. I was a star pupil in that class and got done with the basic assignment fairly quickly, so he had me elaborate on the background a bit. I also signed my name in Japanese in the upper right corner; it's a language I speak badly, and my real name does not translate well at all to Japanese. But given that the Maitreya Buddha is a key figure in the Zen pantheon, and Zen is the main school of Buddhist thought in Japan, it seemed to fit.

So this particular piece of mine has an interesting history.

After drawing it, I framed it and hung it up in the various houses I lived over the years. I hung other Japanese-style artwork to match it; the only painting I've ever done that I feel is professional quality was done with a Japanese ink set given to me by a dear friend, and I would hang them together with a couple prints of Japanese art, a katana I was given once, and a wall scroll of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves done in the style of traditional Japanese art. It was one of my favorite pieces I'd done myself.

Then I moved to Florida to live with my ex. She was very Italian, and had friends who were very Italian. Much love and respect to Italians; the food I ate out there was nothing short of delicious, I learned a lot about their culture, and my ex was smokin' hot. But one of her friends was a walking stereotype. His dad was a mafioso, literally had a framed picture of Mussolini hanging on his wall. This kid hated his dad, but not because of the criminality and not because of the fascism. He ended up hating me too because of my godly communism, but that was yet to come.

In any case, before I learned about the sketchbro fashy shit, I learned he was a Buddhist. Not much of one; a different friend of my ex's, a Brooklyn hipster, got him into it. My attempts at talking to him about Buddhist history, theology, or philosophy all accidentally exposed his ignorance on those topics, which probably did not predispose him kindly to me. He ended up fighting the hipster over the ownership of some Buddhist relic worth $9000 before I left Florida, so he clearly wasn't up on the whole "desire is suffering" part of the creed. But in an effort to get along with the ex's friends, I gave him my Maitreya Buddha, and it sat on his wall near his overpriced and underused relic.

This kid was annoying as hell. I tried to get along with him but just couldn't. I've tried my best to tolerate butt rock, I kinda had to in my bartending days; but this kid knew nothing else. I would literally request the CIA wiretap Alexa play Frank Sinatra when I was over there, simply because as an Italian he felt obligated to defend ol' Frank no matter what. So it was either Sinatra or butt rock whenever I went over there. I tried my best to invent reasons to not go over there.

He was also a cheater. He loved the hell out of his girlfriend, but I guess she didn't put out enough for his hypersexual toxic masculinity to handle. So when an ex of his offered to let him, uh, till her fields, he took her up. And then he came over the next day in a panic, worried about what he'd done and asking my ex and I for advice. I suggested honesty, he was like "but she'll break up with me if I do that!" Uh, yeah. But she kinda deserves to know that she's dating scum, and you kinda need to learn this lesson, not that I said that out loud. My ex just reassured him everything would be all right, which is what he wanted to hear. I mixed him drinks to be supportive of him as a person, since I couldn't really support his life choices. It was okay though. As Mickey Mouse would say, "it's a surprise tool that will help us later."

In any case, when the breakup came, which it did because my ex couldn't get her mental health under control in a way that was conducive to a continued relationship, this kid was like her biggest partisan against me. I'd lent him a book, and he was planning to set both the book and the Maitreya Buddha on fire as a big fuckyou to me. Homeslice don't gotta like me, in fact since he's fash I'd rather he didn't. But the fash have destroyed enough knowledge and artwork, and I was not having it. I'm not even surprised that I was more concerned about preserving Buddhist art than he was. So I delivered him an ultimatum: return the book and the Maitreya Buddha, or your girlfriend learns that you're a cheater.

I had borrowed my ex's phone to call my best friend back home to talk to him about the breakup when he barged in, pissed and looking like he wanted to throw hands. I set the phone down but didn't turn it off, and he demanded I do so. I just shook my head.

"There's no need for violence. You're a Buddhist, and I don't want to hurt you."

"I brought your fuckin' shit back. If you ever talk to my girlfriend, about anything, well, I know where your parents live."

"And I know what your dad does for a living. Try anything, and so will the feds." His eyes lit up with fear.

"Don't go bringing parents into this, he hasn't done anything to you."

"Good, let's keep it that way."

"Here, you see this?" he asked, pulling five Benjamins out of his wallet. "It means I can fly to your shit town out in Nebraska and kick your ass whenever I feel like. Never come here again."

"You're welcome to try, and find out what it's like to get Haatjaa'd. Mafia ain't got shit on Chadron."

My only regret about that encounter is that I didn't reply "The price of my silence just went up five hundred dollars." All the same, that's how I blackmailed a mafioso's kid into not destroying culture like the fash he was, and there's even an audio witness because my best friend heard it all go down, and we laughed about it afterwards.

I lead an interesting life.