"I'm gonna thank the Lord above/ for my trillion selling platinum hit/ I'm gonna write me a book and call it/ How You Make Gold Outta Shit." "Change My Name," -the Beaumonts, from, Hey Y'all, It's the Beaumonts. Saustex Records
Now may mark the time when those out there puzzle at my state of mind in regards to that young woman I can go on on about on this blog. Yeah, in my opinion, she handed me a shit deal. In my opinion, she came from a place of aggression and hate. In my opinion, she acted on behalf of someone from my past who wanted to exact some kind of revenge. When I approached that young woman at her old place of employment for social reasons back in October of 2021, people out there, in my opinion, got an idea of the real place this desire for revenge came from.
Suppose I could magically make gold out of such a shit deal? Well, I guess that would let this young woman off the hook. She would never have to own up to the place she came from with whatever attentions she did pay me. She would never have to rat out anyone. She could pretty much just get away with murder in that regard. I can see why such a course of action on my part, making gold out of shit, would appeal to a lot of attractive young women out there, and how I'm some kind of asshole for "refusing" to do so.
Brett DePalma, in offhandedly lecturing on how the art world exploits too-hungry-yet-vulnerable artists; Brett stood there, playing the role of an art world scenester, and demurely clapped and said, "Ooh, that was very good. Do that again! A little more blood this time," as he clinched his fist for emphasis. I see any attempt to match or exceed my effort to reach out to this young woman from this point forward as an attempt to, "Do that again." If the Richy Vegas myth contains any truth, my real employer, the employer I truly do such things on behalf of, knows better than to make such demands of me. He ought to know why.
Now may mark the time when those out there puzzle at my state of mind in regards to that young woman I can go on on about on this blog. Yeah, in my opinion, she handed me a shit deal. In my opinion, she came from a place of aggression and hate. In my opinion, she acted on behalf of someone from my past who wanted to exact some kind of revenge. When I approached that young woman at her old place of employment for social reasons back in October of 2021, people out there, in my opinion, got an idea of the real place this desire for revenge came from.
Suppose I could magically make gold out of such a shit deal? Well, I guess that would let this young woman off the hook. She would never have to own up to the place she came from with whatever attentions she did pay me. She would never have to rat out anyone. She could pretty much just get away with murder in that regard. I can see why such a course of action on my part, making gold out of shit, would appeal to a lot of attractive young women out there, and how I'm some kind of asshole for "refusing" to do so.
Brett DePalma, in offhandedly lecturing on how the art world exploits too-hungry-yet-vulnerable artists; Brett stood there, playing the role of an art world scenester, and demurely clapped and said, "Ooh, that was very good. Do that again! A little more blood this time," as he clinched his fist for emphasis. I see any attempt to match or exceed my effort to reach out to this young woman from this point forward as an attempt to, "Do that again." If the Richy Vegas myth contains any truth, my real employer, the employer I truly do such things on behalf of, knows better than to make such demands of me. He ought to know why.
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