suddenly seymour

the downtown

jack and his friends organized themselves into a actually pretty great group show at RENTAL that i let him take me on a tour of yesterday was it? beats me

if i told you this was the youth, the next set of things for downtown, would you gasp?

i wouldn’t tell you that because i don’t think like that or think that but people do like to know
the next thing for downtown
don’t they

i really liked this piece

why why why does downtown mean so much to me
i’m going to pass up a lot for it soon

and will it love me back?
you know that DOWNTOWN PROJECTS is still in the running so to speak
wait lets see if we cant see aurel’s poon in here somewhere

eh oh well

i really liked that one of the artist’s brothers who is not an artist did this to the gallery bathroom

and then a collector commissioned him to do it again for her down in florida because she loved the “piece”

i love when distinctions are absurd because they are and downtown i mean what is so romantic to me about that distinction?

there’s no rules for us
‘cuz its dangerous

where the rainbow’s just a no sho-o-ow!

you know those are lyrics from Little Shop of Horrors, right?

i didn’t really know i knew them all, essentially the entire score, until suzanne took me and rosson on a tour of cool old hideaways in the city and we ended up singing show tunes at this west village bar

ever seen a potato with caviar?
the names are a bit of a blur but we three had quite a glamourous night bumping around in our furs from this Wakumba Lounge place to a theater bar to a Monkey Bar to this place:

this place this place!

it was such a serious scene, like nothing i have seen before in eight years here

this repugnant photo rosson sent me of me is from some different and ugly night but i like it in the context of this song, excerpted, which i may or may not have sang with all the old musical gays at that piano bar last night:

Where the folks are broke.
Where your life’s a joke.
When you buy your token,
you go….

Where the cabs don’t stop
Where the food is slop
Where the hop-heads flop
in the snow….

..Where the guys are drips.
Where they rip your slips.
Where relationships are no go…..

That’s your home address.
Ya live
When your life’s a mess.
Ya live
Where depression’s just
Status Quo….

Where the sun don’t shine
Past the bottom line
Go ask any wino, he’ll know…..

Author: admin

I am the owner of downtown contemporary art center THE HOLE! I am arts editor at i-D magazine I paint paintings and curate art shows all around

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