...and the Waves

Paul McCarthy

As Knox would say, something about running full tilt into crashing waves, turning back in the cool water to face the beach, floating up and down, seeing that couple snuggle up against the log. Something about an empty apartment. Something about barfing at your friends place last weekend. Something about morning discomfort.

Leroy has been hiding away in the eastern part of town. He quit his job, he leaves his house in the west and goes to the eastern part of town to make art, and eat sandwiches. He surfaces at night to come and see us in the dark bar, or maybe in Remington's living room with a bottle of scotch. Tomorrow there is a curator from the biggest gallery in the western part of the country coming to see his work. It might be included in an upcoming show there. I am excited, of course for him, but also because I am a pathetic scenester looking forward to sipping champagne with my new white leather shoes on, and exchanging pleasantries with lovely ladies.

Leroy would be disgusted.