I was condescending to an old man writing how unfamiliar the art world is to the artists themselves. We spoke that art is comradery and sausage and artists dislike koolaid. I choose my work, and all else, dishonestly. I accept people controlled and/or neat because it causes me to be a whore, ignoring the rituals and dressing up. Honestly, I see the perfect grace.

In my life, I comprehend stray marks or mismatched socks. I don't drink on top of them, I "exonerate". Regardless of this, the process is there and you can't see it; spattering of regrettable understatements. That is locography.