Today a friend and me had a discussion about art. He’s a painter. Unlike me, he is very talented. That and he actually puts a lot of effort into his work.
I asked him who is inspirations were. He said he was particularly fond of Roth, Michelangelo, Cezanne and Picasso.
“Hmm,” I said, “I’m not as organized as all that.”
“How so,” he countered.
“Well,” I answered, “most people can’t really get behind my ‘art.’”
“Who inspires you?”
“It’s not so much a ‘who’ as a ‘what,’” I mused. “I’ve always thought the key to great art was divine misery. So, I am inspired by black roses, single drops of blood on the lips of tuberculosis victims, people stomping on kittens, Ophelia drowning in the lilies, those types of things.”
“Oh,” he said, sounding genuinely relieved, “so that’s why you don’t stay in relationships. The broken heart thing really works for you, doesn’t it?”
“You’ve figured me out,” I said, “Nothing gets me going like heartache laced with anguish and caffeine. Ah, the vile depths of humanity. What would I do without you?”
February 16, 2007 at 4:35 am
This sounds like something Marla Singer from Fight Club would say.
February 16, 2007 at 5:11 am
“A condom is the glass slipper for our generation. You slip one on when you meet a stranger. You dance all night, and then you throw it away. The condom, I mean, not the stranger.”