“ It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat. ”
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And another thing: his work is completely devoid any sense of gravitas. In fact, it’s just…void. Only style — or attempts thereof, rather. Neither substance, nor emotional complexity one finds inherent in a truly genuine talent, like J.T. Leroy. Now there…mark my words: there —
[ Downtown Los Angeles, 7th & San Pedro ]
Once The Boys and he hauled Irene’s chair downstairs, I suppose my look turned Bloodthirsty-Barber-Accepting-“Walk-In” — or rather, walk up? — Clients. Said another way? The Baseheads wandered a bit too close to our ‘home base.’ Sidewalk or nay, they were getting a bit too . . . interactive in our production. Mumbling from afar quickly
progressed regressed into spittle proximity, so when Mr. Kroll urged me all mad cazh to Turn Up My Crazy, well . . . I amped it to about an 11. In case you were wondering? Flailing 14″ shears are an effective prop if one is aiming for 5150 territory. [ Cue latex-clad emoticon, kplzthnx ]
Sure, out-kooking-the-kooks has its own entertainment value — but I was stoked to be photographed by the fetish-meister after so many years, truth be told. I’ve seen him listed as ‘the most famous fetish photographer alive,’ and I can’t say I’d argue. I mean : images from his book Fetish Girls were made into postcards I remember seeing in airports, for F’s sake.
That tome of T & A — along with several other of his published works — has been on many a coffee table I’ve encountered over the years.
Short of the long? Whatever the case with this eve : it was an “encounter” ; that’s for sure!