Continuing with 'my-life-as-Norman-Rockwell-paintings' motif that I have going, I would like to bring your attention to this: The lights went out at U-Place last week. Fortunately, we were already in bed.
Oh, my fucking lord; how surreal is that. I love the images of the forties and fifties; it was a time that we were sure of ourselves and the art kept rolling off Madison Avenue like a GM plant.
"the" mrs.- Why yes. Very surreal. Everything wholesome and mainstream was just a facade for the seedy underbelly, the out-of-the-way bath houses, the whore houses. Remind anyone of Emler Gantry?
Ms Bees- I just don't know what to think of you. Charming and filthy....that is you to a 't'.
Ah, "out-of-the-way bath houses". I remember them fondly. My favorite was the Baths of Caracella. Lovely place, really; lots of slave boys. where, oh where did the slave boys go to?
3 comments:
Oh, my fucking lord; how surreal is that. I love the images of the forties and fifties; it was a time that we were sure of ourselves and the art kept rolling off Madison Avenue like a GM plant.
"the" mrs.-
Why yes. Very surreal. Everything wholesome and mainstream was just a facade for the seedy underbelly, the out-of-the-way bath houses, the whore houses. Remind anyone of Emler Gantry?
Ms Bees-
I just don't know what to think of you. Charming and filthy....that is you to a 't'.
Ah, "out-of-the-way bath houses". I remember them fondly. My favorite was the Baths of Caracella. Lovely place, really; lots of slave boys. where, oh where did the slave boys go to?
Post a Comment