The Artist Formerly Unknown As...

I'm antsy. Possible Boy wasn't out tonight, Neighbor Guy's lights were all out at 10:15, I went to the bar to see if anybody knew anything about art. Neighbor Guy's friend who seems gay but isn't popped his head in and asked if Neighbor Guy was around. I said "No and his lights are out. Any chance you have an art history background?"
"I've been an artist since I could fingerpaint. Why?"
"I have $4 in my pocket. Can I buy you a drink and pick your brain? It has to be a $4 or less drink, though."
"Sure. Can I finish my cigarette first?"
At today's estate sale, I got a framed signed Miró lithograph for $10. I don't know shit about art authenticity, but the ink of the print looked like it was on top of the paper and there were numbers in addition to the signature so I figured I hit the jackpot. Then I found out Miró is one of the most forged artists out there. Then I started looking online and found out that BAT above the signature stands for "bon à tirer" and the 10 x /73 that I didn't quite understand as an edition number is actually 10/x/73 as in the date. What's all that crap mean? That if this is not a forgery, it is the last artist's proof before printing an edition. I'm hoping it's worth a bazillion dollars.

I yapped at my new artist friend about all the things I've been trying to keep in and know better than to tell people if I want to be a shiny sparkly person. Our shoulder chips ground around and gnarled and gnashed. I felt very honest and grubby because he was being honest and grubby so that gave me permission.

I mirror personality traits a lot. Speech patterns, too. It's my natural reaction to mirror and often try to make the other person comfortable.

I fascinate me. I could spend my entire life analyzing myself and be quite content. That's fucked up.