Fast forward a decade -- This afternoon I did a portrait of Myke Hideous and ... Ladies and Gentlemen, Myke Hideous has left Mr. Barnum's cane in my living room. I'm runnng around blasting Mr. Barnum waving it around.
It's like finding Woody Allen's forgotten his glasses on your bathroom sink, but in a goth way.
I'm really glad to think that I'm still capable of behaving like a simpering fanboi. This life is awesome. And read Myke's autobiography, it's amazing.
"Say it's easy to forget your apologies.
Make your conscience relinquish its guilt.
This is not Sunday mass or a holiday.
Look me in the eyes and you'll see.
Mr. Barnum clutches his cane.
Mr. Barnum breaks you in his game.
Never cross examined or ever occupied.
Making cracks in the mirror as he smiles.
He always listens for suicide and destruction.
He greets your stigma with aggression vicious and cannibalistic.
Mr. Barnum clutches his cane.
Mr. Barnum breaks you in his game.
Mr. Barnum calls to you."
-- Mr. Barnum, the Empire Hideous
I've come to suspect that you can have everything you want, if you just want the right stuff.
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