There hasn’t been anything that quite had the magic of this show, before or since.
To the dreamers. To the travelers I’ve met and to the travelers who I have yet to meet, and by travelers I mean soul mates too.
“So from all of us here, I’d like to wish you happy painting, and God bless, my friend.”
I’m not who I used to be, I can’t expect to live that way. It’s been too long.
For better and for worse, artistic people like to jump the gun a bit when it comes to love.
The bad poetry got me somewhere. It taught me: how not to write.
“Mass media’s saturation by both fictionalized and real automatic weapon images has been the status quo for so long, people no longer bother to look for reasons why the weapons have become universally accepted symbols for self-determination.”
I liked Ben, I really did. I mean, he was a nice guy. We had some fun times together in college, messing around the dorm, going to parties, all the dumb shit that college guys do. He was cool and all, but he was a little… pretentious. Well, I guess the word he used was “artistic.”
People say, “everything has already been written.” Everything has already been said.
But that’s a lie.
Our satisfaction is a language that communicates to us what we *really* want — and so is our frustration.