Elegance and The Artist: Back from the Party

Wow, was I ever in the mood to hang out with some upper-middle class illustrators and academics and talk about my job and my thesis.

I did attack a french woman. For being french, but ostensibly for:

A. Uttering the phrase: "All this new technology stuff worries me. It just wastes more time."

B. Asking, genuinely (or in as genuine a tone as a french person can muster), why would "the artist need theory for anything?"


Well, both of those things are kind of my bag so I let her have it. I was bored so I didn't even hold back a little out of deference to my beloved friend whose party it was. (sorry N!) Hefting Jesuspenis I spoke concentric circles around her until she was lost in a trough and literally backed away never to see me again.

I mentioned my cliterectomy movie and how to see it because they all seemed eager for Art. Funny, all it took was the name and conversation ground to a halt. N. did laugh though. She is a great friend.

The highlight of the afternoon was being invited by an artist to her Art opening. But I was not invited as a run of the mill attendee. Nope.
I was to be "the elegant accessory" for the event, breathing sculptural evidence of her downtownyness, I suppose.

I'm trailer trash with sociopathic leanings, lady. From time to time I actually live in a soap opera. I can't even look at one of your fancy bottles of wine without thinking about suicide and kidnapping. And I am eagerly awaiting further signs of the environmental destruction of the planet, flu pandemics and other obvious but more dangerous to admit disaster scenarios.

And you see elegance.

You are an artist!