Harrison Ford told me that
I belong in a museum.
I figured in the after hours I
could fix the Mona Lisa.
"You are an ancient piece
of living artwork," he said to
me. I loved his fedora.
"Art," I had to tell him, "is only the
pornography of one's imagination."
I think he may have taken offence
because he couldn't save me from
the screeching-leper-nazi-clowns
until the very last second. Or is
that how it always comes out in
the end?
"Hey," I said, "Yeah, I uh, think
that by oh, well, being HUNG
up here like this, I've sort of,
lost my original flavour."
I waited for a response;
in the dark;
I didn't get one.
I didn't get one until I realized
that Vincent's self-portrait was
only a painting, and that when
paintings speak, they're usually
inaudible. I puckered my lips
and nodded slowly.
"That's very attractive you know."
"What's that?" I asked.
"That hacking before letting the saliva
flow," he continued, "The chicks
really dig that." "Oh," I replied,
"kind of like a severed ear right?"
"Yes, exactly!" he said, "You know I'll
have to try that!" "Oh shit," I replied,
"Je plaisante mon ami!" "Ah," he
stated, "tu parle Français!" "Mais non,"
I responded, "Je plaisante ici aussi."
For weeks I was surrounded
by death in exhibition.
I'd seen art fucks come and
art fucks go. "Synthetic, yet
organic," they'd say, "Pathetic,
yet surreal, but erh, I've seen
greater representations of
society than this. Let us move on,"
continuing, "Ah, look at this over here..."
Synthetic pathetic indeed.
I'd set up my 'back in
five minutes', "Mademoiselle,
j'ai une cigarette."
Eventually they gave me my own
rope. I was happy then because
I could sleep nude without
the worry of being stolen. I'd
invite my friends over and we'd
get drunk, and we'd drink from
the bullet hole in van Gogh's stomach.
It was a great year for wine
eighteen ninety.
Alas my value decreased
with age and I died a starving
artist. It was then that the art
fucks paid large sums for my
rotting body. "Now this is art,"
one said, "Do you think it should
hang above the fireplace, or in
the master guest room?"
Birth sign: Sagittarius
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