In which The Gay Recluse considers the ephemeral nature of art.

Today we received a letter from “the fictionist,” a Brooklyn writer who inserts “short stories into the surrounding urban environment: a construction site, guard rail, park bench, etc.”

Hmm, that sounds kinda cool…let’s take a look, shall we?

This reminds us of when we used to be in a band and would go around gluing our posters all over the East Village.  It would have been so much easier to just place them on the curb like this! 

And to some extent, it would have made no difference to our fate, either musically or otherwise. Most obviously, this symbolizes the larger destiny of the written word, at least in its literary form. Or maybe art itself. Or life. Or anything else you could lay down on a curb to admire for a few seconds before it blows away.

But that’s not to say it shouldn’t be done! We can see how a little art will spruce up even the ugliest and most barren of landcapes (emotional and otherwise).

Thanks for sharing, fictionist! For those seeking more info on the fictionist, please visit:

here (photos)
here (behind-the-scenes!) and
here (words).