Tonight I went to a bar with Lozano, Arturo and other people whose names end in long vowel sounds. We talked politics and inter-art politics. I realized that I'm horribly addicted to gossip and should think a little more before I speak. I am even addicted to pre-presidential gossip. Like, "Did you know John McCain wears diapers?"
I reread some old blog entries for the first time in quite a while. I feel kinda weird about it. Some of the early ones seem so disingenuous and verbose. Gross. Now, I'm more like Bukowski, concise and only concerned with sex.
It's been 2 and a half years since I started this blog.
I don't know if I told you this dear readers, but I was once a columnist for the famous and well-funded Davidsonian. Yes, I was quite well-known on campus for my quasi=communist views and love of nameless kissing. But what has this all amounted to? I'm not wealthy, nor am I dating a model. I've changed nothing and no one. What does it all mean Alfie?
Why am I here? Why am I participating in a field that at its best is an exchange of luxury commodities, and at its worst is a futile bourgie white people attempt at changing the world?
"Art is for rich stupid people."
*Kanye West did not actually say that, but I assume he would if given the chance.