Wake up every day, at the same hour, for the same reasons, while I realize that no amount of sleeping will give me rest.
Insipid meals and casual sex, earthly pleasures that do not suffice to entertain my spirit, the only thing that helps me go through these days is art, with all its magnificence. Dadaism, Surrealism, Hyper-Realism, Kitsch, aesthetics, visual rhetoric, DuChamp, Warhol, Gordin, Witkin, Bukowski, Kundera, these are the people who carry me over their shoulders and give me the the shelter I could not find anymore in the smiles of the people or between the legs of a woman.
Maybe art its the only thing for me indeed.
This will b