Saturday, April 11, 2020

Weird Enough

Trying to find a photo that fits the times is difficult.  This one is from a long time ago, and I'm not sure that Q didn't take this with my camera when I was visiting him in NYC.  It is possible.  There is no note on the file saying so, but we were at MoMA in the garden.  Maybe not, but I'll share credit with him just in case.  

I do remember that it was he who pushed the statue over so that we could get the picture.  That was right before we were escorted out of the museum.  As I remember, though, the show they had up wasn't anything we were truly interested in anyway.  We were in shorts, but we decided to eat at a famous steak house that was nearby.  I can't remember the name, but the doorman was uncertain about letting us in.  He asked us to wait a minute and went inside to speak to someone.  It was early and the restaurant was almost empty.  They sat us at a table in the back where no one could see us.  The place was full of Peter Max paintings. . . I think it was Max.  I'm texting Q right now and he can't remember.  I do remember the steaks and asparagus and potatoes, though.  Crazy good and crazy expensive.  

Of course, I'm lying about the statue.  You've been.  You've seen it.  

The photo seems too good to have been Q's, but maybe.  He is attracted to such things.

This one is surely his.  I am positive this is the one for which he borrowed my camera.  It is sad that Q lived half his life in the city and didn't take any photos.  He travelled the world as a carinal barker and never took a camera.  All of that is lost like our memory of who in the fuck's paintings were in that restaurant.  But I'll bet somewhere I'll have a picture of it.  Somewhere.  God knows where.  

Possession is nine tenths of the law.  I've heard that.  I wonder if it is true?  I wish somebody would ask Trump at a press conference.  I'd love to hear the answer.  It would be pure pop poetry.  He is quickly becoming my literary hero.  Oral literature, not the shit you write in books.  Pre-writing.  Pre-coherence.  Limited vocabulary, nothing that challenges you.  Folk wisdom.  He makes me believe in disbelief.  Forest Trump.  

What was it that Hunter Thompson said?  It never got weird enough for him.  Ha!  He should be here now.  

No comments:

Post a Comment