PUT SOME MUSTARD ON
THAT STATELY SANDWICH
The gospel pinged like a redneck bullet. Ostracized egg salad
on a cold-tray shelf. Everyone was looking in - but nothing to
see was better than this : the artist, tall, lanky, swaggering, gay :
was going on about his amplitude and his varied intentions, his
shades of both purple and gray. The lines on his canvas that
turned to circles; more like a squiggly than anything else. His
fingers tried grasping his new bandana, but, no, it was already
too deep in his pocket. Even the wine here was pink. 'Last
Thursday of the month, oh shit, or is it the first Thursday of the
month, we open all these gallery shows - big night artworld stuff.
Here, not just here, no, the entire block, hell this entire area -
it's an arts district now, safe and sacred, and girls with little
panties and boys with big bulges, either way, they're both invited
in. We talk, we go at art in the most expensive way, we
look at things. And, you know, it's so funny, it reminds me of
Andy, we all wind up instead talking about how things are hung -
oops! no, no, I do mean the paintings you silly. We line up our
eyes like on a ballroom table and only look together at one thing.
Then someone says, My God! It's not straight! Of course, we all
know then what that means and everyone just starts laughing and
then getting drunker and more. Yes, what a whizz this arts
thing is. Just miles and miles of it now!'
on a cold-tray shelf. Everyone was looking in - but nothing to
see was better than this : the artist, tall, lanky, swaggering, gay :
was going on about his amplitude and his varied intentions, his
shades of both purple and gray. The lines on his canvas that
turned to circles; more like a squiggly than anything else. His
fingers tried grasping his new bandana, but, no, it was already
too deep in his pocket. Even the wine here was pink. 'Last
Thursday of the month, oh shit, or is it the first Thursday of the
month, we open all these gallery shows - big night artworld stuff.
Here, not just here, no, the entire block, hell this entire area -
it's an arts district now, safe and sacred, and girls with little
panties and boys with big bulges, either way, they're both invited
in. We talk, we go at art in the most expensive way, we
look at things. And, you know, it's so funny, it reminds me of
Andy, we all wind up instead talking about how things are hung -
oops! no, no, I do mean the paintings you silly. We line up our
eyes like on a ballroom table and only look together at one thing.
Then someone says, My God! It's not straight! Of course, we all
know then what that means and everyone just starts laughing and
then getting drunker and more. Yes, what a whizz this arts
thing is. Just miles and miles of it now!'
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