This throws me into total tailspin mode. The gravel is flying...I fucking love it, want to do it, wonder if indeed painting is dead, as I do every five minutes. Fuck! Thanks a lot you bastard! Kidding, kidding, I'm not that artistically fragile. Wait, my arm just broke off. No problem, I'm into amputation. Spare the chloroform Gentlemen, I want to feel it all, in the name of the Motherland! A chipboard zoo and a little picket fence on every neutral ground, and a chicken for every ventriloquist's head.
Comments 1
Reply
Leave a comment