My Story Part 2

How a lawnmower saved my life

I got pretty fat in the few months before my dad put me to work.

My skin was pasty, I had the so called “gamer’s tan” which isn’t really a tan at all. Its just a strange cheesy look your skin gets when you avoid the sun for too long. My primary diet consisted of hot pockets and mountain dew. As you can imagine, I got some pretty bad acne from the greasy food. In the video game world things were going great.

My username is “xXSkuLlCrush3r666Xx” and you can still find me on x-box live.

I was a god. The ultimate badass. Somehow I was awake all night and asleep all day. I don’t know why that happened, or why my parents let me live like this for as long as they did. But I was a king! I had the respect and admiration off all the 9-13 year olds who I played with. I was like master Yoda and everyone else was just a padawan.

When some naive fool dared to challenge me I would strike him/her down with precision unseen by any man or woman alive, with my many supported cheering me on.  The unsuspecting gamer was in need of advanced cardiovascular resuscitation such as seen here.  (lmao right now) I was very respected.

My reflexes were robot quick and my eyes fine tuned to the beaming lights coming from my tv screen.

I became the embodiment of a zombie when my dad took away my xbox and forced me to smolder under the unforgiving rays of the sun.

It was too long since I had seen anything brighter than a tv screen casting its light across the garbage and laundry covered bedroom of this strange troll like creature that was me. If I’m not mistaken the first time my dad pushed me outside I screamed in the sun and collapses to my knees.

He said it was the most pathetic thing he had seen in his entire life. Let me draw the picture for you, pale as Voldemort, fat as Rick Ross and as greasy as a pepperoni pizza covered in garlic sauce from papa johns, I slaved away, sweating like a pig panting like darth Vader hunching over the lawn mower I pushed it in front of me at a painfully slow pace, stumbling from time to time.

I can only imagine my dad staring out the window with his arms crossed shaking his head with a frown tainted by disappointment. Every Day was torture, but there was one day that trumped them all. I was half way through a lawn at the far end of the neighborhood when It started to rain.

And when I say rain I mean It poured like it was the end of the world! Puddles shot from the ground like nosy meerkats in the desert! and my piece of sugar lawnmower started drilled itself snug into the ground! Needles to say I was pissed off.

But amazingly, I had enough common sense to try pull the thing out now while the dirt was still wet rather than just ditch and try again tomorrow. And, amazing, after all these epic fails of mine, I managed to pull the darn thing out of the mud! HAHAH!

I laughed and raised my fists to the heavens… but the lawnmower wasn’t going anywhere… a huge gunk of mud and twigs and roots and god knows what had hinged itself into the bad of the mower… ugh.

I flipped the thing over and tried to free the blade layer by layer. It was tedious and at the rate i was going I knew I was going to be here for a while. The rain was so heavy I couldn’t even see the house from the lawn, and I was absolutely fed up with this day and life and I’ll the memories that came to me were those of embarrassment and defeat and I saw my dads disappointed face ever so clearly before me…

So I punched the dirt stuck in the blade.

I gave it a left jab and a right upper cut and beat that dirt like there was no tomorrow.

Then, with my last punch, my whole fist was swallowed by the dirt and to my horror the mower sprung back to life and which a screeching noise began to spin its blade!!! I was mortified! I punched and kicked and pulled but no matter what i did my hand kept creeping down closer and closer to the blade…

finally, right before my hand was certain to be chopped off by the angry mower I latched both of my feet onto the mower and pushed off for dear life!

I flung myself back and landed right on my back, winded for a moment, but besides a few scratches I was ok!

Dizzily I steady my head and stared and the spinning lawnmower and the remains of the dirt stuck to the blade. As my eyes began to focus on the lawnmower blade that was slowly coming to a standstill, I saw it…

A perfect and highly detailed model of Paris’s famous Eiffel Tower!

No Pottery Lingo, No Pottery creation device, No problem.

That spinning table you guys all use? Never bothered with one. All I did was cut out a circular piece of plywood and secure it to the lawnmower blade with duct tape and zip ties. People say it isn’t safe, people say its too fast, but people also say that Bruce Jenner is a wonderful woman-man and elected him/her whatever as woman of the year for his\her penis or lack thereof so i say, TO HELL WITH THEM ALL.

Bought myself some cement, mixed it with water, threw it on my “clay mower”, turned that bad boy on, stuck my hand inside it and BOOM! 5 days later I was released for extensive care at the hospital and tried again.

This time I tired working with clay, 2 minutes later I had the leaning tower of pisa in miniature form created and sitting on my dads desk. 5.5 degrees just like the original. Interesting fact.

Didn’t know there was a crooked tower named named after pizza, nor did I know it leaned at a 5.5 degree angle or any of the structural data or architecture of the building. It’s a gift, I don’t know how else to put it. I think the ghost of numerous civil engineers from all around the world have decided to dwell in my body and see my should as there temporary home.

Its the 10th great wonder of the world right after Donald Trump running for election and Kim Kardashians 180 degree behind/ nightstand/ very uncomfortable chair. Today, I have created every architectural wonder of this planet. Golden Gate Bridge, Michigan Stadium, the Mcdonalds down the street… you name it, I’ve made it!

There is only one thing: once I make it I can never remake it. This only pertains to buildings I make.

Number one: I can’t control what I make.

I can set my mind creating a building, but wether it will become a mayan temple or your neighbors suspiciously locked shed I have no control over.

That’s why and original Peter Clay can be worth hundreds of millions of dollars!

Its already expensive in the sense that each piece is unique and there is only one of each, but it is a famous structure, forget about it! I recently got word that that the louvre art museum in paris, famous for keeping many grand works in their inventory, actually moved the Mona Lisa into a dusty broom cabinet to make way for “Peter Clay’s Famous Eiffel Tower”.

Obviously, the number of museum goers has skyrocketed ever since. And I don’t blame them. Personally I never liked Picasso in the first place. If your such a famous artist then why cut off your ear? And whats with the long mustache and the droopy clocks?!

Never mind. Talent like mine is rare so its clear why my works are so caught after. And I haven’t even gotten to talking about my non- “spur of the moment architecture pottery” yet. Let’s just say i make pretty cool coffee mugs. Many people wonder where I live and the truth is, No where and everywhere.

I live on a luxury blimp equipped with countless high quality lawn mowers. If you ever see a silver flash slowly moving across the sky, that might be Peter Clay. And if your really lucky, you might catch me p’woning some noobs on xbox live. That’s right.

After my success, my dad finally gave me my xbox back, and I’ve regained the respect of all the gamer kids. Peter Clay out.

My Story Part 1

Pottery, the early years.

If you read my “about me”, you know that found my passion for pottery by molding a model of the pentagon in my cosmetology class.

Amazingly, it took me a very long time to connect my passion for creating with the career of making pottery. At first I thought my calling was being a sculptor. So I went to an art school and signed up for a 7 semester program in sculpting! My friends all backed me up on this new found passion of mine, they said it was a lot better of a choice then Cosmetology.

At the time, I was skeptical. Cosmetology was all i knew, and i was uncertain if i could bring out this creative demon inside me that I had only unleashed once in the past.

Regardless, I knew I had to try. Long Story short, art school sucked. Cramped between tree hugging hippies and arrogant over talented snobs I always felt like a stranger in the classroom.

Screen Shot 2015-10-31 at 11.45.45 PM

got this photo from: www.themetropolist.com…

Even worse, All I knew was makeup, and these guys had vision, they new what they wanted, where they were going and what they were working with.

I was just following a hunch, that I might be the Leonardo DaVinci of sculpting. I was not. Sculpting is hard, and to this very day I absolutely hate it. For the first few weeks I was always cutting away too much of my pieces or cracking them, while everyone around me discussed which style of this and which look and texture they wanted and the best way to achieve the desired effect and whatnot. It was not long before my teacher had given up on me. She ended up just pretending like I wasn’t even there… which didn’t bother me much.

I had given up on myself too. My end of year project looked like a sandcastle made from a single mold by a toddler that had collapsed in on itself. My parents were funding my career at the time, but didn’t know of my failure. I told them a lie about my fictional girlfriend in my class who I broke up with for some heartbreaking reason and that I couldn’t stand seeing her in pain everyday so I, in my infinite generosity and selflessness left the program so she could continue and pursue her career.

My dad said something like “What?! don’t let no woman stand in the way of your future!

Sometimes you gotta be selfish! Look what happened to me when I put my life on hold for your mother? Im 54 and I haven’t in my life left Arkansas state borders!” to which my mom responded by hurtling a sandal at his face and telling me that I did a noble thing and she is proud that her son is such a gentleman.

Well that was that. My dream of making the passion I thought I had a career went down the drain, along with all my disfigured sculptures, which my father did not appreciate removing from the toilet when they eventually flooded the whole house. Luckily for me, my sculptures sucked so bad that he didn’t really see them as art but as some very strange fungus.

Got off the hook there. It was summertime and my dad forced me to get out of my room and away from my tv and computer and do some work. So I went around the neighborhood mowing lawns in the blazing heat, hating every minute of it. It was during this time that I finally found the missing link to my creativity!