Sunday, March 28, 2010

One Ogre I Know


Expertise derives from paying passionate attention over time
to something so compulsively insistent it cannot not take a central
place in conscious and unconscious life: one ogre I know
parlayed the strife of his self-hating inability to keep from looking
at himself – his yellow-greenish-mauvish mottled lumpy skin – into

the inspiration for the enterprise of the upholstery of easy chairs:
neo-Victorian – with such nuanced peculiar unexampled colors
and extravagantly tufted bumps and layers that they’ve raised
his dim opinion of his body and his visage to the heights one might
accord a cherished varied catalogue – in this case pressed into his

very flesh – of textures, lumps and other asymmetric cues that now
beget fresh notions of designs for fabric, buttons, hues – organically
adorning parlor sets and such. His stuff’s a little much, but selling
well: with lifetime warrantees. Been doing it for decades now; there’s
not an order for them he won’t fill. He stands behind them still.



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