George Dawkins - Delacroix Late August




After work Jimmy and I walk into a student opening in the Lubalin Gallery. The place is made up like some kind of a southwestern circus with heavy rodeo overtones. Hay covers the hardwood floor and a fake wooden bull hangs from ropes dropped through the opening of a circus tent above as warped calliope music floats throughout the space.

“Well I see the alcoholics have arrived,” one of the exhibiting artists snidely comments.

“We prefer to be called drunks,” Jimmy drawls slowly in response. The kegs arrive and we help ourselves to some Yuengling Lager.

Four beers later I stand with Jimmy taking in the oddness of the exhibit.

“Oh my God…! Have you ever been to the Bordeaux Region in the spring?” A trust-funder, a necessary evil of an overpriced art school, almost yells to a group of her uppity friends.


“No!” Jimmy interrupts the conversation while leaning over a keg nearly tipping it, “But I been to Delacroix, Louisiana, late August.”





George Dawkins was raised in Virginia, and has been happily corrupted by NYC decadence after only three years in the city. He graduated from George Mason University with a degree in creative writing, and has since worked as a freelance editor and in janitorial management. He now resides in Staten Island.