the saddest girl in the world -- if you taste cold water, know that it is a message : eye series, scott richard, painting
one of my personal sad defeats revolved around a beautiful young woman.
a southern socialite had seen one of my paintings "shotgun heart" in a home that had been staged in montecito by the benefactor of a sad suicide society member. she was the realtor who sold the house.
i had placed a piece based on a short story i had read in college. in the story, a realtor took a bowl that she thought was incredibly beautiful and promised a whole new life.
she put that bowl on the table and she knew it would sell the house.
the painting of "shotgun heart" is still in this man's possession and may or may not still exist
like i said, "one of my personal defeats..."
but what's new about sadness?
i have a collection of butterfly trophies for the world's greatest failures...
and i have so carefully planned my exit
that you will see everything before the white
your favorite word to contemplate,
one day you will see,
so back to the real story...
after i have a photo shoot with three beautiful young women,
a photo shoot that charismatically defines them as the women they will become,
drags dad over to look at the process-pieces
the "endives", the belgium adhesives....
he's "west coast sensitive",
something like a
substitute teacher type
"i coulda workt with Peace CORPSE mali, 93!"
FK YOU DICK, they CHOPPED OFF PEOPLES HANDs CUN!!!!!!
landed a much embarr-assed
southern belle with his
and the native says,
another southern victim mismakes her mark...
but, all mismaking aside,
apparently this beautiful woman in front of me,
looking so beautiful and alive,
has recently survived some
"life threatening" force,
which was never made known to me.
her new "skeletal form is HIDEOUS
and i think, "oh darth vader,
not enough bullets for all of them!"
how dare he steal her beauty in front of me!!!!
and curse his core existence and
him to the fourth ring of hell,
as i see fit,
where the weak and miserable shall dwell!
her struggle has made her gorgeous and profound.
fk you, old man,
you mental rapist of her new success, '
your middle daughter,
your favorite source of sick distress.
she is freed by my brush,
and your love affair with
her "second-place runner-up" status quo is dead!!!
she's what i see north of houston
in a gallery,
picking out art
should she walk the streets of manhattan,
she would be the one,
not your other genetic beauties,
your obvious race horses --
she defied your central purpose
and your remedial discourses.
i guess luke skywalker
never touched your mental forces?!!!
don't you taste what borsht is!!!!
damn you for hating her for being more beautiful than you could handle!
for your real estate
wife's ensued and manufactured scandals!
you pretty peacock without a roost!
a ruse of
i hope i sliced
truce of spice.
a real artist sees real life.
forever now, this woman,
for a worthy man,
will make a real wife.
so the husband, god fk his soul his hard for me,
is heart-palipating at heart attack speed to see his daughter,
manhattan city beautiful,
suddenly more beautiful than the ones he'd already been jerking off about.
fking imagine THREE gorgeous women,
and the meltdown a man could have to know that he'd had three good hits.
just an artist,
just a fking artist.
where i no more work shit for any,
show only god
the way you believe in