Sheep in the Road

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Sheep in the road _____________________________________________ October 1972: Another letter, I’m working again, so you get another letter, lucky you? Its Sunday afternoon and the lunch rush is over. That was written about a week ago, since then I’ve given up the job, the owner closed for a holiday and didn’t tell me about it, in fact I was told they’d be open – so I got the shits. I don’t know how it happens but people are always hurting me. I don’t think I’m a super-sensitive person but its always happening. Thats the real reason for the letters, you know this way its safer. I hate to be always ‘wallowing in self-pity’ but thats how I always end up. Its obviously unintentional because when or if its noticed people (the ones who do it) are extra nice, but I still have this feeling of being stabbed in the back sort of. I think its perhaps because my ‘friendship’ is sort of total and theirs isn’t – its a continuous cycle. Every now and then I withdraw completely, not talking to anyone, the basic thing is sort of if you don’t have any friends you can’t get hurt. Unfortunately that wears off and it starts all over again. The only good point is that I’m aware of it so I don’t think I hurt other people very often, or I really hope I don’t. Dad’s put me down quite often lately, I understand it all but that doesn’t help much, he really hates long hair (won’t admit it though) and its rather disappointing when you see the clay feet so clearly. I hate illogical prejudices like that anyway. When or if you write to me again write to Anne’s address as I’ve had enough – perhaps they will be the same in another way? I sometimes wonder if everybody is the same. I hope these letters full of profound bullshit aren’t too much of a drag. If they are tear them up, but it helps me to write at times like this … 98
_____________________________________________ June 1973 Dear Alan, Ann, Jo and Tanya I am fine. Since you last heard from me I’ve been to Cape Town (hitched there, took 3 days) and back (2 days). Its nice there. I am now an Art Director for a shitty advertising agency. Its shit, I do all the work while the boss farts around. Sometimes he tells me something is urgent and I work overtime (unpaid) to finish it then he sits on it for a week. He’s a real prick. He pays me shit too (when I re-read this all I see is shit). I don’t think the job will last. I am living with Guy in a flat near Greyville (remember?). Its good. We are vegetarians and do our own housework (ha!) I won’t be able to get out of here until I get some money (I’ve only worked half a month). With what I get here I’ll never leave but I’m looking around for more money. We are having an exhibition in September, maybe that will bring some in but I doubt it. I’m at work at the moment, not doing much as you will no doubt notice. Hope you’re all well, more soon, Brian 99
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Sheep in the Road vol.1 Alan Ruther
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Living to work? Or preferably, work
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HAND OVER FIST PRESS This volume pu
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Contents Introduction 1 1 Smiths St
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Introduction A first volume of a se
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That there are similar (but slightl
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living for us all. This leaves us w
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Page 81 and 82: Paul 71
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Page 101 and 102: On the Beach, 1953 As I mentioned,
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Page 143 and 144: HE EIGHTIES133
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EPILOGUE: DON’T CROSS PICKET LINE
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▼ MAGAZINE SHEEP IN THE ROAD issu
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Sheep in the Road

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