If I'm not huggin ya don't stand close enough for me to hug ya

Here is a painting by Jean-Michel Basquiat for you. The only reason I know of his artwork is because I felt like watching a documentary at Cinecenta, and a film about his life was playing. He grew up poor and lived on the streets for awhile before making his mark as a graffiti artist. He began painting and gradually became famous. His apartment was full of money that he didn't know what to do with, and he partied hard with Madonna and whatnot. Basquiat died at the age of 27 of a drug overdose, leaving behind hundreds of paintings and the occasional haunting picture of a thin, black man with wild dreadlocks and solemn eyes. I wonder if the fact that his son was famous was of any consolation to his father when his child died before he did.


I have just been running dogs and eating. Life is pretty darn good.


Happy Christmas Eve. I think I like this day even more than Christmas itself.