UPDATED: three days with a POP artist (an edjumacation in Citch with a c)

i just sat on a folded up cum rag.
thinkin, why does my under-thigh feel wet?


not so long ago, i hustled a few days for a downtown artist.  i have nothing on this guy.  nothing.
this fucker is rockin and rollin, man.  he's movinggg.  he's taking names and remembering them all.  or remembering everyone he met at ciprini's while signing his work there the night before.  we have so much in common, you and i.
there is a black and white stamp tagged to the dumpster next to his studio.

KING

is

DEAD

waiting on the man.

he's a towering figure, hunched.

an unlit cigar always in his mouth, he's on the rag now from everything else, and boy, does he take it out on that cigar.

always a few steps behind, an entourage of twenty somethings, dressed better than he.

everyone almost running.

but don't run, they keep telling me.  don't run.

his was a game of attitude.  a world of maxims and truisms.

"never be leaning, always be cleaning."

his philosphy, if i have it correctly, is "you got one shot, don't give me this pity party, everything happens to everybody, you don't know anything, so go out and make shit."

"I wanna make ten thousand things tonight"

I want to put out a force into the world even though i have no idea what it'll do and i don't give a fucking shit.

shit, i should just be happy for the fuckin pay check right?  

every job is a piece of shit.

every boss is an asshole.

"i think we stay a lil late, get these russian girls in here and we can move 30 grand of shit tonight"

doesn't that sound like an artist?

or/either

"trust the universe.  trust and believe and have faith.  I truly had no idea how i was going to bring the knowledge of The Secret onto the movie screen.  I just held to the outcome of the vision, I saw the outcome clearly in my mind, felt it with all my might and everything that we needed to create  The Secret came to us." - rhrhrhrhonnnnnndaa byrne - The Secret