outwait outrun outwit





TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile


07.19.01

love letters!

...

I nearly miss my brother's show, puffing anxiously on a cigarette that Joe offered me, (and, since my short attention span prohibits me from acquiring any long-lasting addiction, I forget, of course, to inhale), as his pale-blue Volvo dodges taxicab and pedestrian; certain streets prove elusive.

Elusive, too, a private moment with my brother, who slouches among admirers and friends and patrons eager to purchase his paintings.

...

On the wall, his paintings hangs, accompanied by red dots indicating Sold!

I want that one, a red-coated girl whispers to her companion, who is flipping through a price list.

My brother/Dee/Deth/DethpSun/ "emerging artist"/ shrugs and offhandedly, maybe jokingly, says, Yep, I've sold out

Red dot adorning her finger, an officious-seeming woman informs another woman, Our organization allows the patron to connect with the artist.

Frowning, Deth snaps my picture--too late, I look down and away.

...

Sushi: the so-far-best place in town? Country Station on Mission, between 17th and 18th.

Here, butterflies perch in the messy tresses of crazy (and I never use this word lightly) waitresses who bring --smiling gleefuly and an hour late, mind you--platters of delicious food, consumed with cup after cup of hot sake amidst rump-dented pillows and picture books on butoh. Look out for the many polaroids taped haphazardly to the walls!






<<

hosted by DiaryLand.com

free
web stats