Our new digs in an older home is so off-centered/crooked in some places I accidentally nudged a pencil and it straight up rolled clear across my desk like a more fun version of that mildly past date steak featured in Poltergeist.
Blog manager, cue Carole-Anne, thanks:
So what else… Uh I voluntarily asked my 73 year old former oil painter grandma for a critique of my collage work. It was accordingly sweet:
what I sent her:
Not necessarily my best but then again I knew she had to start some place. She hadn’t even known, until today herself (and I guess you too) that I had rejoined Atlantic Works Gallery. Overtly minor congrats were given on that phone call. In as so much that a Pioneer Valley septuagenarian can extend love to her hands down favorite grandson (sorry, not sorry Giovanni, she had been breeding me for this for a solid 13 years since you were even a proto-sonogram).
What else: so, uh, Greg and I went to go see Laser Floyd at the Museum of Science this previous Friday night. It was indeed visually intense in a way that capped out somewhere around 1992, i.e. not pleasant, in anyway, but it had a decorative border wallpaper so we collectively thought it was generally o.k.. In reality: the lumens or actual brightness of the laser effects were super tough to constantly maintain a prolonged look at, especially when properly and fully proscribed within the legal limits provided by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.
Yes, but we did have a lot of fun. You’d also likely as well if a secondary level of inebriation is per your enjoyment, then a Friday and Saturday 9:30 p.m. showing of Laser Floyd will certainly enhance the rose colored view you might be exercising, before we fit you with the They Live™ prescription lenses and designer frames:
Boston remains nonetheless very pretty by night, in high agreement with all my Vampire (the Masquerade & Requiem) frands, y’all’re very correct all along, sincerest apologies, even in mid 30 degree nights.
I know you got a $20 Jackson Assholebuck to spare so go spend it on freedom, tits, automated drones, the general War Machine, and a fuck ton of laser effects at ye Olde Museum of Science, clearing house to a wide swath of weapons developers, general military contractors, and the convenience of your very own iRobot that has been selling you out before you could have ever spelled r-o-o-m-b-a. Yeah, but put a cat on it:
Greg and Myself are doing pretty alright by the by.
So just keep on keeping on, all you Bostonians with the 5+ year plans here, otherwise just do us all favor and get on over to where you had in mind in the first place anyway (NYC, LA, MIA+), & stop clogging the Baystate economy up; see everyone wins, you’re in the no-talent, no-taste Airspace Apartment bloc of your Victory Dreams©. But more importantly: you’re out of the city that we came here to in order to get away from the likes of you in the first place; and thus all is well since Teitelbaum is in his MFA Heaven & thence All’s right with the World…
So for now, ciao babes.
Stay frosty, stay active.
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Not I, said us proles.
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