That’s no way to talk about a lady.

Were these ads intended to be seen side-by-side? Is modeling just a production medium, now?

The end. It was a powerful book that changed his hair forever.

Old pudding-face here needs some squishening.

Your terrible girlfriend deserves neither a chair nor shins to kneel on.

Narc.

The famous composer waits for no train. The famous composer will stare into the tunnel and consider his latest composition, and should that tunnel find itself occupied by a train then fine, so be it. And should that train pull up to the platform then yes, the famous composer will consider stepping onto it, perhaps even ride it to the dinner that he has promised to attend (perhaps he will discuss his latest composition over dinner—ah, but what good are mere words!). But no, the famous composer is not waiting for a train, per se. “Sometimes one simply finds themselves in transit,” explains the famous composer to himself, preparing for the dinner party questions he might be buffeted with. “Dah, dah, da’ da-da,” hums the famous composer to himself, mistaking for his own composition one of Schumann’s.

Some people are exceedingly good at mustaches and they should be commended for bringing a bit of life to what might be a stale form. Just look at this haunted androgyne. Real art.

Shredded newspaper assumes canine form, prepares to exact revenge.

Too tall for donuts?

You know the feeling. Sometimes you have a bagful of vermin that you just gotta unleash.

Path puts a silly amount of trust in its avatars, especially given their tiny size. I never know who the shoes are.

Path is more tappy than typey. That’s fine, I suppose. It certainly makes for a clean flow.

Path is tappy and its content reads like the content of taps. “I am in a place,” you tap. “:)”, come the replies.

Path is pretty in the same designy way as our modern museums. They are shaped like battleships and grain silos and crumpled souffles. There is much said about flow and fatigue and how one of these has been optimized and the other one reduced.

These museums are very exciting when they open. You show up and marvel along with all of the other fans of architecture. Maybe you return for one of those nights where they stay open late and there is a band and drinking. “A great space,” you think. Maybe one day you’ll be rich and rent out the atrium for a private party.

The art doesn’t get talked about so much at these museums. The museum itself is the “social object,” as it were.

Eventually the particulars around which the museum was designed fall out of fashion. A fresh crop of architects finds it to be too flashy, or too dull, or to have been guided by faulty principles. There is congestion where there should be flow. Certain rooms are simply exhausting. Maybe it is even an eyesore.

This is good for the museum. Now they can really fuck up the place. Fill a room with a thousand cubic feet of lead. Let Matthew Barney dangle from a rope and scribble some shit high on a wall where no one can see it. Or: just let their rooms be dull rooms filled with rousing art.

Path is a monument to Path. It is no place to scribble in. I wish it longevity so that it might find shabbiness.

New York is a poorer place for losing this trio. And California all the sunnier.

Not mine, but marked as such.