Of Failed Artists and Failed Artist Husbands

Art is a jealous mistress, and if a man have a genius for painting, poetry, music, architecture, or philosophy, he makes a bad husband and an ill provider.

Fished this out of my spambox. Somebody important said that, hopefully, or else spammers are more talented than I ever thought. But of course it’s true. Artists and genius types make lousy husbands. The real world examples and many and well documented. Their problem is not just their narcissism, and all artists are narcissists. If you don’t think your shit doesn’t stink, why else would you think that anyone else on Earth would possibly want to read your crap, listen to your bullshit, look at your scribblings and mudpiles, inhabit your Lego brick structures, or read your impenetrable jerkoff effluvia laughably called “philosophy” or the study of the meaning of life (Of all the pretentious disciplines, LOL)? Obviously, no one would possibly want to pay much attention to anyone’s artistic jerkoffs of this or that narcissistic folly. Unless, that is. Unless you are the greatest fucking writer, artist, musician, architect, philosopher, etc. on the face of the Earth. Then they will line up to subject themselves to your dribblings, blabberings and jammings. Of course we arty types all think we are great. If we didn’t think we were great, we would not exist. Of course that is why we are insufferable. If we spent our time being normal humans, we’d scarcely produce a thing. Duh. Imagine something else, if you dare. Imagine a world where everyone is an artist of some type or another. You’re now living in the part of Los Angeles right around Hollywood. I know because I lived there. Supposedly Manhattan is like this too. It’s actually a drag. Hollywood sucks because if “all you do” is go to work every day like a normal human being, you’re treated as if you are disabled. Everyone’s a shooting star, and 9 The truth about Hollywood is not usually stated. It’s not the land of runaways or stars. It’s the land of failed artists, musicians and writers; and to be one is more than to be normal, it’s a state of high achievement. Hey, at least you tried. Unlike that loser in the cubicle next door! All he does is go to work every day!

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3 thoughts on “Of Failed Artists and Failed Artist Husbands”

  1. “I took this post’s virginity!”
    *A puddle of blood collects on a towel located beneth the Robert Lindsay blog.*

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