We each have papers, ah marginal skill, even if never drawn in our lives, ah scribble, look sheepish sort of drawl to someone “well I know it’s not any good” ah the identifiers, to really being a real person, or some freak .. now that all ways to be a human being have been identified, so go with it, we each do our pieces of the pie that way, but something follows alongside. Janey says, to Merle, having a coffee, or a tea, Janey has a tea, just plain tea, milk and sugar, Merle has some fancy coffee some caramel and fuzz on top, or whipped cream, Janey is poor, explain it all to Merle, Merle is rich, doesn’t listen, but is there, looking out the window, being distracted, Janey says “you fat pig, no just kidding, clumsy you, I’m not even talking, look at you, look at no one – way things are. Life. Get a station in life, be a person, built of polymer clay or something, or ceramic clay, from the ground, roast the ground, hold together, mud, cement, something, be a craftsperson, or something linger in your art, your crafts, that says you’re a weird freaky person, and you’re going to show me, or some normal but never seen normal, so I guess it’s not normal, I always expected it of you.
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Papers. Janey has a few. Dumb stale same as usual papers, or no she doesn’t really think that, or sort of, isn’t sure, show the world, “art not finished” but up ahead lies it finished, in the person, but not the person/ clumsy art, half-finished unskilled misspelled scrawled “do you indicate you know how to be the freak being” “ordinary clean no odd clothes you don’t look different” “say it in your words”
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Have a way sit with me not rush it not push it
Have a way
The odd human being doesn’t at all exist
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“so when are you going to show me, Janey?” Melre says “ I got your papers, yeah” he looks through the binder, copies of them printout some medium quality she shows the great artist merle the great connected to galleries but poor Janey no skill in “something new” just tiny barest hint she can be the freak human past the art, but she can’t show merle she can’t show anybody.
Way it goes. In this world. You have time, to have some good times, and battle with injustice the rest of the time. And there’s no other time left.
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What lies inside your drawings?
Plain old drawings.
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Hint to me, loser artist, never had a career. Hint to me. You’re something after dead, you died, you crapped out, you say it was some work towards something? Fucking nuts. I’m successful, why should I listen to you? look at you?
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The world look at people died but smart never had a career are mentally ill kaput but clean, most of the time, shower.
What are you?
Hell I ain’t seen nothing like you a glimmer past earth senses I have in control of.
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la la loser m,e la loofa wash my vack nit so comdortabke worrued very worried. Keep working. This has venue. Merit
we all ah blahbe nice scnookie, hide away "I;m nice insude topo i think" "it's nit all hifimg thst I;m mercensry and grumbly, no nio." ah anythig to us papers, like a purebred dog, purebred non=writer, never trued, wruter has been expressor coffee? no silly/ we all aint git a chamce hide and shaddup. We all peek la out. Smile. We still smile. it's not all knives and guns og was it iover was it ince whst are you niw any of u.. world .. come a long way .. no .. sit here, tea and coffe, talk about this, if you can
we all have mess, damnit, I;m a mess, I hold ot up keep mtelf tigether diont shiw you must be on perfect show thst t perfect soulmste ah let me be messy can I now eh
I'm really a rat in the car headlights, a rat standing on stilts pretending to be a deer/ we all get away with it, nah "our show" heck we're just trying "only face we have" what's behind is not developed - no one can
have this strange life extra, like Janey tries to show to Merle, while she lives, maybe has a job at a graphic arts firm .. while she lives .. no time for this, no opportunity, none of us have, not just artists, with pencils, pens, creative types - no - this is universal
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