From the comments

Oh, I want to write long winded posts where I throw in conjecture and opinion and expect everyone to understand. I want to see how many suckers will read my words as if they are worthy. I like some of your posts, but god damned, you can be everything to everyone. You want to answer sex questions, do that, or short stories, do that, or letters or phone calls from distant friends, that works too. But look at these posts, some serious, some sublime and some meaningless gibberish. It makes me, as a reader, wonder what the fuck is wrong with you. Are you dying or something, because that too is alluded to with enough mystery and hints to make me wonder. If you are sick, why post? If you are working, how in fucks name do you have the time to post these long winded meaningless rants? Plus, how is the donate thing working out? If you make money doing this, more power to you, but no one really makes money on the internet, unless there are dicks and shaved pussies involved. Hey, look at me, I am writing a long winded and meaningless post, let me be a guest poster and pay me.

So a few years ago I was filming the artist Mark diSuvero while he installed a large piece at the Currier Museum in New Hampshire. I love Mark diSuvero, have made 3 films about him. He has allowed me into his studio a few times, even gave me a present of a large chunk of metal.

I was standing outside the museum, in the space where the sculpture was going to be installed, shooting the before sort of images that would blend into what it would look like when completed, dramatic. After some time a short man with a beer belly and a look of exasperation on his face walked up to me. He as looking at the massive steel beams that diSuvero would be piecing together to create his sculpture. He looked at me, then at the metal, asked if I was part of the crew, I explained that I was just there documenting the installation.

He shook his head and said he was not impressed with diSuveros work, that is was just pieces of metal welded together that did not make any sense. He was upset that the museum had paid millions of dollars for this so-called art. He said he could easily go to the junk yard and make something equally as complex.

That was it for me. I could not take it anymore. I told him if that was the case, that he was so creative and talented that he could indeed take some scrap metal and make it into a work of art, then he was wasting his time talking to me and he should immediately get himself down to that junk yard. I believe he said I was the sort of person who had sex with their mother, or something, and then he walked away.

I check every now and then and so far, the Currier has not added any new junk yard sculptures to their collection.