"I'm thinking of parceling off portions of my brain," I once told her. "I'm not talking about having anything surgically removed, I'd just like to divide it into lots and lease it out so that people could say, 'I've got a house in Raleigh, a cottage in Myrtle Beach, and a little hideaway inside a visionary's head.'"
Her bored expression suggested the questionable value of my mental real estate. Speed heats the brain to a full boil, leaving the mouth to function as a fulminating exhaust pipe. I talked until my tongue bled, my jaw gave out, and my throat swelled up in protest.
Hoping to get me off her back, my dealer introduced me to half a dozen hyperactive brainiacs who shared my taste for amphetamines and love of the word MANIFESTO."...
The art world was our conceptual oyster, and we ate it raw.