(cont. from home page) after Galliano lured him there and propositioned him with drugs, despite being told by the young man that he was an epileptic and sober. The sunsetting of the Provoking Provocateurs era began when PFC, by then a proper WordPress site with its own domain, was hacked and a...
Just as Trump was a four-year stress test of the strength of American democracy, Putin is showing those who doubted the cohesion of the Free World that it has never been weak, or truly threatened....
Scarlett Rouge reports from a barge in the middle of the Venice Biennale....
Killough splits his personality to toughen his greatest weakness. Has it worked?...
Dear James —
I’ve recently parked my meandering caravan in Torino, Italia, and transformed it, with a quick wiggle of my exceptional nose, into a glass-enclosed nest surrounded by woods and autumn leaves. Between the chirps and trees, I’m finally at home, or close to it. Who would have thought it was in Pino Torinese, or Turinese Pine, that I would find my comfort zone? But perhaps the reasoning is not so obscure: A childhood fantasy was being a tree fairy, living among mossy evergreens, luminous enchantments crackling from my fingertips. It’s a fantasy that lingers yet.
I am a devotee of dream interpretation, a gaga-brained, cymbal-clanging, dancing-and-clapping Hare Krishna singing its praises in the streets, oblivious as to whether anyone thinks I’m a fool. If you know how to read dreams, if you track them diligently, if you learn how to interact with them, they offer a perspective into your current state of being like nothing else. And, provided you don’t have a personality disorder or other mental issue that requires professional guidance, if you do it right you can conduct your own psychotherapy right from the comfort of your bed.
Scarlett and family do Frieze differently, of course. And that drags up all sorts of memories of Hollywood hedonism....
Dear James —
I’ve been meaning to write you. There’s so much I’ve wanted to share, but my head has been so topsy-turvy with all these hats I wear: the chef cap coupled with visual-merchandizer visor topped by a filmmaker’s baseball cap. There are days I feel like a circus acrobat juggling while spinning, suspended in air; I stop for a moment’s reflection, amazed that I have the energy to grow so many arms. I am utterly grateful to have so many delicious ingredients to create the sweet-and-spicy dish that is ma vie.
Dear James —
I’m sharing a comment someone made about my last piece, in which I was being a little hazy about my love life. Mopey Reader wrote:
Firstly, thank you for thinking of me. I do have some questions. Sometimes, if people use a number of metaphors and/or similes, or if they confuse the two the same way many mistakeningly [sic] use the term ironic in place of coincidental, I get confused and miss the main point. Is there a new lover or is this a metaphor for the art fairs? At first I thought the article was about a new person that you met but then it turned out to be about other things so I don’t know if that person is real or not.”