if I’m a slut will you still like my art?
Judge me
Judge me
Take a look
And bash me
Kick me
Slap me
Cross the street
Instead of meet me
Need me
Take me
Make full use
Then abuse me
Talk about behind my back
Whisper stories like a hack
It matters not
you have no heart
If I’m a slut will you still like my art?
by SUMMERHILL LANE
© All rights reserved 2020
TATI: Tony, I believe you can be considered a professional artist, yes?
TONY: I guess I can. I might not make much money from what I do but I certainly take it seriously.
TATI: How much money have you made with your art? Do you remember the biggest amount you ever received?
TONY: I do believe it was two Scribbean melamine dollars back in 1996, which was quite a payday for a young, starving artist working out of a cardboard hovel in an inner city red light district.
TATI: Scribbean melamine dollars? Red light district?
TONY: Oh, that’s industry talk for failure. Don’t worry about it…
TATI: No, I’m curious now. I need to hear the entire story.
TONY: There’s not much to tell. I was a starving artist in a cardboard hovel.
TATI: But I see you’re still alive and even have a pretty notable belly.
TONY: Yes, I’ve managed to live off of this belly for many a year now.
TATI: Well… anyway, I wanted to ask your professional opinion. (If we can be agreed that you’re a professional artist.)
TATI: Is it art?
TONY: Oh, I’ve heard of this…
TATI: You’ve heard of this. Awesome. It means you can hear, even though you’re deaf. But it looks like you haven’t heard my question.
TONY: Is it art? Yes, I heard your question, smarty-pants! As for the banana taped to a wall… well, do you think it’s art?
TATI: Tony, don’t turn this around. I asked you first!
TONY: Well, I guess it is art. Maybe. I don’t know. I mean, someone did end up paying $120,000 for it. Real dollars by the way, not melamine ones.
TATI: Why don’t you do this then?
TONY: Stick fruit to walls?
TATI: Yep. Why spend days and weeks toiling over drawings? Why sweat over your silly comics month after agonising month? Tape bananas to walls and enjoy platinum-plated baguettes and brie for years to come!
TONY: Well, I suppose it should have been obvious the day I tripped in a food hall and my McJolly’s Super Happy Meal ended up all over that rather bland ‘Exciting New Store Coming Soon’ sign. I really should have put two and two together and started throwing all kinds of shit against vertical surfaces. I mean, instant riches right there, am I right?
TATI: I hear sarcasm in your voice when you say, “All kinds of shit.” So, you admit it isn’t art, but rather shit? Or is it just jealousy speaking that someone else made money, even from shit?
TONY: Oh, definitely jealousy. My problem is that I’m not enough of a lateral thinker to come up with a genius idea like that!
TATI: Tony, you have an amazing ability to blab endlessly and say nothing useful. Can you just answer the question, please? Is this fucking art or fucking shit?
TONY: Alright then! It’s a fucking art that someone taped fruit to a wall and duped some dude out a shitload of cash! Satisfied?
TATI: The art of manipulation? The art of fraud? The art of proving the world is sick and can’t distinguish between what is real and what is fake?
TONY: Pretty much. Kinda like when guys choose fake boobies over real boobies. Same principle.
TATI: So, it can’t be considered a real piece of art? In a good, classic ‘art is a diverse range of human activities in creating visual, auditory or performance artifacts (artworks) that express the author’s imagination, conceptual ideas, or technical skill, intended to be appreciated primarily for their beauty or emotional power’ kind of way?
TONY: That was quite a mouthful.
TATI: If you don’t have a clear opinion, my hesitating friend, then let’s ask our dear readers. I hope they can find a clearer position on this than you.
TONY: Sure! Why the hell not?
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020
In the pull of the wind I stand, lonely,
On the deck of a ship, rising, falling,
Wild night around me, wild water under me,
Whipped by the storm, screaming and calling.
Earth is hostile and the sea hostile,
Why do I look for a place to rest?
I must fight always and die fighting
With fear an unhealing wound in my breast.
by SARA TEASDALE (1884-1933)
Public Domain Poetry
Dear Readers,
Just a quick update before Tati kills Tony for his phenomenal forgetfulness!
The answer for our last RIDDLE ME THIS post was ‘shadows’, and we congratulate… erm, no one? No one got this! We’re as shocked as you are!
However, we are also very happy because it seems that you all enjoyed this feature as much as we did! That’s why… guess what? Yup! We promise to do it again soon!
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020
Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas everyone!
Oh… Too soon?
Well, usually we’re two bums looking at the tail lights of Santa’s sleigh while we desperately turn out our pockets to find a pen and a sheet of paper for the letter we forgot to write him.
That’s why this year we have decided to be prepared. Like they say: “If you want to be happy, be so.” (Who actually said this by the way?)
So…
We have been a very good girl and boy during this unfestive pandemic and would subsequently like a nice gift* from you (but not a lump of coal like you gave us last Christmas, please).
Tati & Tony
*(Please make it a tiny, uninhabited island and a rad new PS5!)’
Hmmm… no. This sounds rather egoistical. And we’re pretty sure that you, Dear Reader, have also been a very good girl (or boy) this year and thus deserve a nice gift. Tell you what… how about we write a letter to Santa together? And we promise we’ll send it to the addressee when it’s done!
Oh, and what if we write the letter in the form of a lovely, rousing poem? That ought to soften Santa’s glacial heart, don’t you think? Here, we’ll begin…
Dear Mr Santypoos, how do you do?
Hope you don’t have COVID and the deer are healthy too.
So, if you want Santa to put something especially cool in your stocking this year then it’s easy! Just follow these simple, festive steps:
1) Close your eyes and recall your deepest wish.
2) Open your eyes, read the above lines of our poem in progress then submit one or two more lines of your own (even if you have a list of 1,918,223 items or somesuch try to pack this into only two lines).
3) We pick the lines we like most (especially if you’ve left us some milk and cookies with them) and we write some more lines to follow those.
4) When the letter is done, we seal it, put all your names in the envelope, and send it to Santa with the next express snowy owl.
By the way, as of this posting there are only 82 shopping days left until Christmas, so we need to hurry the eff up! Get crackin’, hoes! Ho ho ho!
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020
unbolt me 