Fie upon’t, foh!

Yeah. Fie upon it! Fie!
Fie on you, Art! You seduced me at an early age, opening me up to new perspectives and possibilities, not to mention new aspects of myself. You suckered me in with a promise of fulfillment and a life of ideas and making things. I fell for it, hook, line and sinker and now I’m lost forever. Toiling in the shadows for you, never recognized or seen. . .but ever there, at your dark service. Every day waiting for some glimmer of hope, for some crumb of sustenance and everyday disappointed again.

I never wanted a house in the suburbs, Art. All I asked for a life with you. And that is all I got. And this month when I yet again do not know how I will pay the rent, the work behind me lost to history, the work ahead, unfunded, I just want to throw things at you, Art. I just want to. . .foh!

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