the dilettante

masquerades, parades in glitter throws a lavish party - and the freeloaders only duty is praise, cheer to the dance, tap dancing, do not mock or scoff the chambermaids made it clear when lines started to go obtuse, wavy, vague but the meal, the wine, the desserts aren't free! then the fine works are displayed, how plain, how unoriginal, how distasteful, how very crude in every way but each guest nods politely at the strengths, the prose, the rhythm (there is none) to scores that sound more like noise when played. a glass cracks, a bulb sizzles, must be the temperature - it is getting a little heated, hot, though the waft of a fresh batch of cookies has just come out. anyone hungry? the placing of weakness in mid sentences, the placing of context around blemishes, it's art! but the stomps, the herd rushing to the glitter cannot be restrained - life of the party stumbling, wobbles, stutters, the adoring crowd continues to cheer as the chandelier falls from the ceiling though a dilettante never hears the noise, sees the mess, broken shards all around and perception wins with a curtsy, a bow, a flushed cheek departs from the scene as the animals swarmped in. later on the freeloaders bickered about what actually took place, the herd had taken all the crappy art, horrid scores and buried junks not missed, it was all missed - what actually took place, nothing to bicker about save one party thrower who never had any misgivings, had absolute belief, faith in the genius that he was. it was all quite comical, don't you think?