Pablo Picasso, the ass-hole.

For every Pablo Picasso there are thousands of nearly-made-its and millions of not-quite-good-enough-to-do-it-full-time types. We are fortunate to belong in an aristocracy. For if we weren’t, then we wouldn’t be allowed the luxury of this discussion. And this very aristocracy allows us certain liberties and freedoms.

Continue reading

Advertisements

How Chango became the seminal porn director that he is now

I had a meeting at 2 pm. It wasn’t about anything. Assemble people in a conference room, provide free food and they will find something to talk about. The meeting was dour to say the least- learned men and women gauging and criticizing their contemporaries. The stupidity of the educated cannot be underestimated. In the middle of it, I got bored. I fantasized about naked women- naked; some were in that room, some were not. I even imagined naked celebrities. Grace Kelly in a beach, Rooney Mara in a bathtub and Chanel Iman in the wilderness. I can’t help my imagination. After almost two hours, it was concluded that we needed to meet more often. Before leaving, I made myself one last cheese and cracker sandwich and chugged my drink. Continue reading