Because the coin must flow. If only it weren’t so. But if it weren’t, then something else just as stupid, or maybe even stupider would take its place. Coins. Shiny rocks. Seashells. Bat shit. Bones. Whatever. It all means the same thing, the same thing that all idiots want - more.
As I walk through the gilded door covered in tiny silver horses and then the wrought iron gate designed to look like bamboo, I count myself among those idiots. I want more. Of course, my more is better than everyone else’s more. I want to collect art and make art. This idiot wants to paint his dining room ‘purple’ and wants me to agree that it will look sophisticated ‘purple’. How can any house look any way except hideous when there isn’t even a central idea to the thing? Horses? Bamboo? Purple? What are you even fucking doing? Idiot. Let artists do art and you do… how the hell did he make his money? Inherited it, probably.
This ride is too long. I need a new project to burn this idiocy out of my mind. Something to spend the coin that will soon be mine for giving purple blessings. I could finally do that piece about the nested artificial worlds that has been banging in my brain for years. Or maybe something…
The sound of smashing glass forces me to open my eyes and look up.
No comments:
Post a Comment