I got some shit to show you. But like, you know, some real shit
Olga has taken to eating shit on our walks. I'm very disgusted by shit to begin with. This recent behavioral onset has me "yucky"ing throughout most of our engagements. She licks me! Damnit!
About a minute ago, something in the streets made the exact same sound as the beginning of Tone Bone Kone. Laugh out loud. I realize what I need with these livejournal monologues- senses. Sound.
Idea: you walk into a gallery full of blown up versions of my rantings. And there are sounds in headsets, food on plates, smells in vials, things to touch. Wouldn't that be it? The death of art?
Death to art, life to experiencing other people's life reflections in controlled environments? Or should I just start videotaping Olga's shit eating sessions? I mean, both ideas are kind of- the same thing.
About a minute ago, something in the streets made the exact same sound as the beginning of Tone Bone Kone. Laugh out loud. I realize what I need with these livejournal monologues- senses. Sound.
Idea: you walk into a gallery full of blown up versions of my rantings. And there are sounds in headsets, food on plates, smells in vials, things to touch. Wouldn't that be it? The death of art?
Death to art, life to experiencing other people's life reflections in controlled environments? Or should I just start videotaping Olga's shit eating sessions? I mean, both ideas are kind of- the same thing.