December 10th, 2006


Shaolin Liver, Supreme Beings Of Leisure, And Dissolving Man.

Several consecutive days of drinking alcohol on an empty stomach has given my liver Shaolin-like powers in Miami. I came to this realization after my third vodka on the rocks before dinner at the gallery's closing night party -I wasn't even remotely buzzed. I mentioned this to the bartender.

"Yeah man. That's neat," he replied as he continued stacking cups.


Speaking of the closing night party, I think a grand total of a dozen people showed up instead of the anticipated hundred. The client had spent an assload of money hiring the Supreme Beings of Leisure to perform. Toward the end of their set, there were more people in the band than in the audience.

The same applied to the booze and food. I think I tried to make up for it by eating and drinking for twenty people. For the rest of the party, all the waitresses kept following me around with their trays of hors d'oeuvres, just to watch me dust off an entire tray of caviar-stuffed mini potatoes as if it was a spectator sport.


I get pretty stiff in front of the camera, which is great for my burgeoning career in porn.

Seriously though, during Art Basel, I've felt the pain of the artists and gallery owners that I interviewed. One can't feel particularly comfortable speaking when there are four people staring at you, with a giant camera and boom mike right up in your face.

One artist refused to be interviewed, because she said she got nervous easily. When I tried to assure her it'd be quick and painless, she said she still wouldn't do it. That's when I saw that every time she spoke, her eyelids would start fluttering as if they were having a seizure. She was an eye stutterer. I left her alone.

A gallery owner who'd agreed to be in front the camera, suddenly got visibly terrified once I started asking him questions. He avoided any eye contact with me or the camera. He muttered. I was about to quickly end the interview when I noticed a small patch of perspiration forming in the middle of his forehead. So I kept asking him more questions, watching with fascination as the sweat rapidly started spreading throughout different parts of his head. I think if I kept going for five minutes, the guy would've dissolved.

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