Look there's a town called misery and of that we'll have none
By Ken Simm
- 796 reads
Look, there's a town called misery and of that we'll have none.
So sang the Bonzo's at Dog banned University. Words from this bloody bailiwick, ha, ha.
Pink elephants on a Dalek and two tone ghost music in the studios of the city. Friends that stoned died and of that we will have none. Its always lots of fun. But we did and it did not work. Ah, someone said, but is it art? It is if I say so said Duchamp amongst others. L.H.O.O.Q.E.D.
Now Bohemians were 19 weeks in a small packed television and love paint making was in an equally small, smelling of stale piss studio behind an Irish pub just before the centre city blew up and took them with it.
Policeman waking me in the small hours in a shop corner doorway. Told him I was waiting for the Christmas sale.
Famous Lovers Do, Party Art you see through do. A completely transparent three piece complete with extra under what were you wearing. Wiping up her vomit with a twenty pound note. Two from conscience in a single bed. The only thing worse than a drunken woman.
Showing playing happening we did, festivals we had, did we not? reviews from the Fine Art Rescue Team. Who played drawing darts and had legends on shirts. With the Ballet James Bond and someone put no pondering at any time on all the street signs.
We really like your painting, said the German tutor on his own. You can draw, he said. Not many can nowadays. Draw me a copy. I am here to be taught. So where have all the teachers gone? Sounds like a folk song Love studentship. Fail and fail again to see the pointed question.
Sights from this balls up bailiwick. Contained stupid men and semen. Blow jobs and blow up was fashionable. Loved and lost along the river run and not at all in their right minds.
Beautiful went missing for three years, Hah. Art went missing for a lot longer, oh. Pity kitsch did not what it could to should not allow. Ars longa bloody vita blessed brevis and not just putting rock back on the map. Avoiding pushing peeling plural pills want not forever and winging my way into your confident support, just before you left wearing my denim shirt. And the case he found in your flat could have only held a needle. But it did hold an inked pen and so I hit him on your behalf.
Listening to a very stirring sabre dance whilst missing a visually exciting scene, was the title of a friends portrait of me and mine and what was missing. Do you think?
Sequential Quentin came and went, dear boy, along with other guest speakers. On defining a life style. The band started playing became famous and we painted the murals.
K died after and so did ill badly. In blue je 'taime encore rainbows of soft vowel velvet and long hair shirts. I could tuck mine into my headband you know how it was. Long and thick. The hair.
The thesis, was Apotheosis normally bestowed on younger artists by the higher echelons of the critical establishment. Long and thick, the thesis and meaning nothing according to my niave heroes. Like all those years of nonsense in classroom mushroom training to nonsense working for a living along along oh and from that to nonsense marriages of foolish souls in already foolish study stud stories.
When we all needed calm.
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