This is ART!

Are you going to that thing? Nah, probably not. Are you going to this? Maybe. Are you going to this person’s event? We’ll see. I feel like the majority of conversations with friends are always maybes and sometimes, of howevers and we’ll sees. Multiple exclamation points and emojis followed by sterile conversations and periodic assertions. An observation of the world followed by a descent back into the hidden underground of pop-up, observe, and thinking, “no thank you.”

It’s all just a game right? Learn the rules, break the players, and step on the board. A rat race to the top created by telling us that it exists, and, if you want to exist, start climbing. So you coming with me to this thing or not? Do they have beer? Of course! It’s an art exhibition. Do I have to be all serious and shit? Probably not. Give me an hour.

“This is art!” the man barrades himself with wet condoms and used tampons, “I am the body!” he shouts as a tampon slaps him in the face. Someone is sobbing and taking photos in the back. “I am mother Earth receiving your sin. Receiving your trash. You are trash!” Funny, I thought you were the one getting slapped by condoms and tampons, but hey this is art, and I am not an artist, so I have no agency as I watch my used tampon from the bathroom bin fly across the room, hit the back wall, and slink to the ground. I always feel like I’m in Black Ghost.

I look to my friend who is passionately engaged with the water stain in the corner. What are you looking at? Something other than this. Da fuck did you bring me to? It’s called networking. Did you really think bringing me was a good idea cuz this shit is hilarious. It’s fine. Everybody is super high on coke anyway. Wait, there’s no beer, but there’s wine and coke? Yeah, you know, artist types. They have to numb their egos to be more receptive to another’s.

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