Tuesday, May 09, 2006

Dramatis Personæ


Hello. I'm Jillachetti. I'm in charge here. Miss Artistic Director...






...Jill Writes--she seems to think that she runs the place. But she's not doing too good of a job. She confuses people. She lets this one...






...the one that babbles--take over indiscriminately. That's right. I said "indiscriminately". What, you think just because I'm not old enough for pre-school, I don't know big words? A lot you know. I know enough to realize that someone needs to set things straight around here. And our "fearless leader", trying to juggle the play and the poetry and the expository stuff, she confuses people. She is vague. She is ambiguous. She writes random posts directed at God-knows-who--



I'm not God.


What?


I said, I'm not God.


Well of course you're not God. You're a chick from a Renoir.


Well, yes, I'm that. But I also know who JillWrites writes about. You said "God-knows-who", but I know who. And I'm not God.


Oh really, Miss Smarty-Impressionist-Pants!


Muse will do. You can drop the "Miss."



Uh, wait. I thought he...




...was our muse.


He is.


Not so easy to keep it straight, now, is it?


I didn't hear any one talking to you.


I was. You're me, kiddo. You were confusing yourself. Thus, you were talking to me.



Us.


Us.


So you're our muse?


I'm the head muse. I found him.




Why does he get the iPod avatar?




Because.




That is so not an answer.




Well it's a better answer than--




You're bickering with a fictional character.




What do you expect when she acts like you?


I expect you to remember which one of us is which.




You can't even keep it straight. I bet if Damon and I were both standing--




Someone call me? Hey man, what's up?




Wow.




Ambiguity. Ambiguity is up.




What do you have to complain about? You know exactly what's going on here.




Wow.




What?




And now you're male bonding with a fictional character.




Wow.




He's not fictional. He's me. Sorta.




I didn't think it was possible for you both to be in the same place, but... Wow.




This is not the time!




Are you kidding? This is the only time. This is the hottest thing I've ever seen.




I would have to agree.




Of course you agree. You're the one that gets us into these messes.




I would hardly call a well-developed appreciation of the male form and the male aura a mess.




What would you call it, then?




I think I'm too young for this.




Limitless inspiration.




You rang?




OH




MY




GOD.




I thought you'd see it my way.



Avatars courtesy of:
"Limitless Inspiration": Flandrin's Young Nude Male
"Muse": Detail from Renoir's Luncheon of the Boating Party
"Damon": Detail from Tillmans' portrait of Moby

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Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Commence. head-scratching. now.

purple is a fly i never thought i'd own. it's a blammerific fabulousity that my mother never doubted suited me. WHY? because purple was always her favorite color. carpet-purple-curtains-purple-dresses-purple-myrtle-purple-people-eater. it begs the question.

dif-fur-ent-ly than blue begs the love of my life-love, cookie monster. "oh, for the love of cookie monster," would my grandmother exclaim! "for the love of cookie monster!"

NO. Scratch that.

Scratch what?

"go scratch your ass," gramma might actually. say, that is. might. actually. say. familyism. 40 in a kitchen on a sunday afternoon. maybe brooklynism, going nether to scratch. maybe 66th-street-ism. 4th from the corner.

or all things 1159.

"11:59!" screameth the mozzarella mob before ball-dropping. before the bells. 1159. a house of yesterdays.

rendezvous on the white wall. hide behind the garbage cans.

duck.

Ducky is coming. And he's going to tease me.

but scratch "for the love of cookie monster." scratch. off the scorecard. (Henderson and his god-for-effin-saken hammie, what's the good of season tickets with a team of prima donnas? next year, get a puppy.) or down his back. hiiiiiis. back. MINE. Replace with:

more likely Meema-sim, "what's that got to do with the price of fish?" what, indeed.

Reply: "fat gives you fat," crusty-burnt potatoes are worth a flying elbow.

brats.

AND

it has everything to do with the price of one pair of yellow-wheeled rollerstakes. and a poster of Miss Piggy.

tutto.

Stir and enjoy.

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