Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of art

Beginning with when I first lived with Benavides and continuing up through Kingore's time in the Red House, we always said "Matts don't let other Matts down." Well, here I am, nary 45 minutes before seeing Matthew Barney's Cremaster 3 (The Search for 2?), and I fear for what horrors this movie will affect upon my gentle constitution.

This will be my last post before I venture into what promises to be one of the most pretentious three and a half hours of my life. Will Matthew let Matty down and will I emerge a weeping husk of the psuedo-man I was before? Or will Cremaster be the work on which I base my masters thesis after committing myself to le nouvel art américain? Or will I just be hacked off that I could have better spent those hours downloading porn?

Regardless, I blame Capps in advance.

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Here I am, still curious, still seeking to escape the black confines of ignorance. Where will I be later tonight? Check back . . .



Hmm . . . that was . . . something. I'd say now I feel about like this: