"hallie, literally listen to what you're saying." M. Cohnand so, less than a week in, our tummies full of pints and our loyalty to NYC wavering, we discover that talking loudly about art (in a pub, on the street, in bed, in an art museum) is "pretentious." from here on out, in order to talk about any specialized, rarified, lavish intellectual pursuit i am going to have to get marion completely loaded, or she will mock me ruthlessly when i look up from my pillow, doe-eyed, and say, "but mar-- lady gaga is a crucifix!"
went to the TATE MODERN the other day which is the beauteous, beauteous art museum where i found this series of three (i mean, i have a fucking fetus on my foot, did you not expect me to capture these?) the one on the far left has a blue pad and a fish tattoo (fyi).
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