The Diary Of Marilyn, Aged 331/2
“I find all the cells we have molted away, clustering and fucking in the dirt. Growing into little flowers. A blank canvas and pigment makes me see odd things. A fly with clown makeup, on a pile of shit, twists a used rubber into a balloon rhinoceros. Or really John? Religion? A candelabra and panties.
“So…I paint scabs. Cover wounds, encased in scars. Paintings are seldom guilty and often framed for crimes they did not commit. Imprisoned in jails that are owned by the Bourgeois who treat them like criminals…Kunsts! Talking about them and not to them. Some cover holes in walls, holes in lives. Some make holes in wallets, in hearts…in negative space.
“My art show is a few days away and I will be updating the gallery with the show pieces…some of the existing ones are older and I have not revealed my favorite pieces yet. www.thegoldenageofgrotesque.com will be dedicated to making these paintings available to anyone brave enough to cover their walls.
“THIS HAS NOT stopped work on the album. It is swelling up like a pregnant whore. I’ve included some photos that I have taken myself, with the help of Skold. More coming and I hope to see you this week. The grin has found it’s cat.”