Critique of Critique (REAL LIFE VERSION)

Hhmmnnn... my bad ideas intensified. I should have kept my mouth shut. The beauty of the idea disintegrates in the questioning. Or too many questions cancel themselves out. I set myself up. What is my problem?

Mystrious Prof. One: "Watch out for the Strawman"
Mysterious Student One: "I've gone to bed with him."

SOUND ADVICE FROM MYSELF TO MYSELF: Stop going halfway. Be deliberate. Quit fucking the Strawman.

Mysterious Student Two: "We all have these questions."
Mysterious Student One: "I feel like I need therapy again."

(I CAN LAUGH ABOUT IT AND DO)

Mysterious Prof. Two: "Asperger's?"
Mysterious Student One: "I literally take that as a compliment."

So I wanted to bring on the critique of the critique and that happened although I completely fucked it up with my thought impediment. I got plowed through, my words failed, I failed to set things up correctly and I took the bait when Mysterious Prof. One sunk his line.

I gained a nice shelf. Thank you Mysterious Student Eight.

We can just eat and hang out. That's what I thought... but then I threw everything out there. How can we eat and hang out when I throw all this shit out there? and during a scheduled critique?

It should have been just chili.

My thoughts are so porous. What did I truly want? I wanted to show. I always want to show. I want to show everyone everything... and and and the loopholes, the applications, the paperwork, the procedures, the critique: I don't make time for or lose control of.

Mysterious Student Three: "What is it to guide critique?"
Mysterious Student One: "No one really said that."

Mysterious Prof. One: "There are problems here."
Mysterious Student One: "The problems are mine and I shouldn't bring them up in mixed company. What am I doing?"
Mysterious Prof. One: "Do you have the Audacity of Hope?"
Mysterious Student One: "Yes. But more importantly I'm in love the ether."
Mysterious Prof. One: "How does your family feel about this?"
Mysterious Student One: "They're unaware of the affair."
Mysterious Prof. One: "So you're John the Art Student?"
Mysterious Student One: "I'm not banking on the archive."

WHY DID YOU FEED US? WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? The chili has not been laced. WHY WOULD YOU BRING THAT UP? There is something wrong with me. WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS SAYING THAT? I believe in nothing so much. WHY DO WE WANT TO CRY? I want to cry to. This wasn't supposed to happen like this.

The real life version was transcribed and convoluted as mentioned by Mysterious Student Four who also poignantly referenced Professional Artist Thirty-five (these arbitrary numbers).

All this is denying the point completely, a thing I tend to do. There is nothing wrong with "railing against" things in fact it must be done. But to second guess that, destroys that. I could romanticize it and say: It was too much love. Trying to give so much it jammed the lines.

The scary thing in all this is the implications. This poses some serious questions concerning (beyond surface shit like career, social interaction, exhibitionism): how do I even talk seriously about this anymore? I can't seem to spit beyond my body, I'm drooling all over myself.

Mysterious Student One: "What's become apparent is my lack of being able to talk about my work."
Mysterious Ghost One: "Just say what it is"
Mysterious Student One: "It's scratches on the surface of time and I love them and I love the decorations but why can't it be whole now?"
Mysterious Ghost One: "It always is. Why do you bring up death so much?"
Mysterious Student One: "Sumthin wrong with me"

Critique as self-destruction. Surfing the surface into bad areas. Losing the language beyond myself. Making no sense, stronger and more likely than ever, to be lost.

I'm starting to believe my own rhetoric. These words, as always, a poor excuse for failed actions.