Actually I’ll have a Carlsberg


The barfly speaks, “I haven’t seen you in a while.” the barfly answers, “I’m working a lot less now. The artist falls in love the autistic remains out of touch, the transvestite weeps about his choice of clothing.

The cynic asks a question. “Consider this. We are not allowed to sit by the bar because it promotes alcoholism. We are meant instead to come with friends, colleagues and dates in order to improve communication and fornicate. If this is so what for the man who comes to communicate, become friends with and eventually fuck the alcoholic. What for instance does the man who exists in solitude do to reduce the isolation of his existence if his only friend is the bar itself?”

The proletariat fights for his right to sit amongst the rich and drink. The rich man fights for his right to sit only with the rich.

The journalist decides to attend each individuals’ war, extending gratitude for the chance to exploit their suffering.

After researching thoroughly, he finds the most straight forward method to use the information in-front of him to prove the point he has already decided  to portray.

He paints, through fact and figure, a landscape of the world he experiences. Does this mean he lacks creativity? Perhaps the artist does the exact same thing. Looks to the world for facts and figures to prove his opinion, painting the pre-decided facts into his work.

The world spins unaware of his tragedy. The artist looks to the world and weeps for his inability to cry.


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