A young man came to see me the other day. He said, “Maestro, how do you become a great artist?” He was a mere youth just starting out in life. I looked him up and down and pondered whether to reveal to him the verity or not. After all, I have always held my own genius accursed, for it has been to me what the shirt of Nessus was to Hercules - diabolical and perfidious. “Young man,” I said, “are you happy?” “Yes, he replied, fairly.” “In that case,” I said, “you shall never be a great artist,” and I went on to explain why.
The first Skin Two rubber and leather bash I went to, my habiliments consisted of a pair of rubber cycling shorts, the Bernadinian T-shirt bearing the legend, “Bernadinism: How to Dominate Men, Subjugate Men and Stupefy Children,”and over this my Jesus jacket, which I wear to draw attention to my genius. It is dark red like the blood of Christ, with tassels and a picture of Our Lord on the back. I look a bit like Elvis Presley in one of his more gaudy moments.
"Drunk at the matinee" is a collection of candid poetry about stupid shit that we all experience from day to day.
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