Just talked to an old friend of mine, one of the more eccentric people I've known whom I haven't heard from since probably 1993. He's been a starving artist for the past decade or so, travelling around the world doing odd pop art here and there after seeing combat in Bosnia via the Army. One piece he told me about was he got an old VW Bug from a junkyard, covered the thing in shag carpet, then drove it into a giant mousetrap strong enough to destroy the car in the middle of Denver, videotaping how long it took for the cops to come tow it away (no tag, no registration, etc.), which took several days. Another bit he did was in Chicago where he put up signs around a skyscraper, he got hold of some blank hazard signs and put stick figures of people jumping off buildings CAUTION: SUICIDES. The fuzz pulled him in for questioning on that one, whoops. He does various lectures and exhibits around the country but his diet still consists of "a pack of Camels and a 12er of Pabst," and he's really happy to be where he is in life. One of his larger chunks of notoriety was being interviewed by a newspaper concerning the new Harry Potter book, he was at the release party and they asked him "aren't you a little old to be reading this?" His response consisted of a bunch of pompous bullshit including "the greatest thing the British ever did was to get witchcraft into homes around the world," and the newspaper printed everything he said, hahaha. I must say I envy these people who can do such things rather than slave away in some lousy office job reading enough Rushdie novels on a hungover Saturday to keep the brain from completely atrophying. [/d'oh]
Long story short, sure the secure job and material bullshit it affords is pretty nice, but GOD FUCKING DAMMIT I should get off my ass and live as a poor musician one of these days. The new woman is an artist herself, we really should move to Frisco and live off love for a few years so we can do it, fail, and then sell out to the man like we're both doing right now anyhow. Hmm.
Long story short, sure the secure job and material bullshit it affords is pretty nice, but GOD FUCKING DAMMIT I should get off my ass and live as a poor musician one of these days. The new woman is an artist herself, we really should move to Frisco and live off love for a few years so we can do it, fail, and then sell out to the man like we're both doing right now anyhow. Hmm.
