Cowboy Down
A Conversation Between Two Professional Thrift Shoppers
Part Eleven
"Swashbuckling Who"
At
this apex... or would we PREFER it
an INTERSECTION... in this conversation between two professional thrift
shoppers...: It is not an
intersection we are at. BUT... we
are just PAST an... this... THE... apex.
And... that apex has been divulged: The secret of the thrift store profiteering has been told...
to... you. So we are PAST a ‘the
apex’? Swashbuckling is what
remains of the tale; iota, tactics, poise, position, proper procedure and
...parking. With the aura of
swashbuckling? That
(swashbuckling) is the action that titled this perplexity; Cowboy Down. That is a thrift store behavior... or
two? That we told of (Part
One). That; this cowboy that
downs... is but NOW a swashbuckling.
Or is it... a... swashbuckling WHO? Who be that swashbuckling?
Do ponder that I know that there
are ...salt... AND... pepper... shakers... as I curse (haunt) an isle of a ‘my
little thrift store’. I... eye...
that ponder... do I EYE? A vulgar
spittle is what I see? As I
swashbuckle down isle cowboy I eye and:
Do not gather a reciprocation?
Salt and pepper shakers are so
humorous ...when I ... in an isle ...at thrift store... throw all.... ALL... my
design WHATEVER at... a ... salt (and pepper). Do I?
OF COURSE I DO while
YOU are ‘IS not this NICE FUNNY HA,
HA IT IS’ and I am ‘17th century are a wood... vessel or Dutch
PEWTER or CHINA or English maybe but could be FRENCH from Canada (Quebec) “my
mother’s; she ALWAYS SAVED THAT”.
Until she died and that ‘you’ cleaned out ...her ‘ALWAYS SAVED THAT’.
No...
I do not encounter others using a classic design background to judge and jury
the CRUD in the isle of the bric-brac at thrift stores.
No...
it is spittle that is most expressed of the ‘need’ to ‘do that’. I know that SALT was, in the 17th
century coastal New England, dispensed at the table in little wooden bowls,
primitively (lathe) ‘turned’ from local native hardwoods (a ‘sugar maple tree’)
and served using a little carved wood or horn spoon (these are rare to be
‘found with it’; the ‘salt’). New
England salt dispensing design was in DIRECT imitation of the current English
or Western European fashion but... but... but, but... “AMERICAN” (Colonial New
England). Spittle back WHO be that
WHO swashbuckling WHO by using WHAT density of WIT to be so half-witted that a
SWASHBUCKLER is not I (eye) but that THY; their own highway to hell themselves
be upon it.
“Ha,
ha and that is funny to me too that.”
“Well
we have told them and now we follow it by affirming from our daily experience
that no one is using a design base critique in ‘the thrift stores’. And that this same dynamic freely...
ignores our sage input upon this subject. In fact it is not ignored but is actually... dismissed.”
“And
then they show you something they bought in a thrift store and think it’s an
‘isn’t this GREAT’. They say it
that way too. You know: Like you just said. Spittle. From the mouth.”
“And
brain. But: We are used to this vulgar treatment?”
“Of
course. I love it.”
“Show
and tell never stops”.
“Oh
and they think I want to BUY it and are so CLEAR that it’s NOT for sale so much
of a TREASURE they have found.”
“Salt
and pepper shakers. I ask
them: Do you know the design
history of them? ‘NO WHAT’S
THAT’.”
“Ha,
ha and there isn’t a book ‘about it’.
NO. You probably have
FIFTEEN books that covers it.”
“Fifteen
little snippets of study AND A MUSEUM VISIT TOO. To ‘see one’.
And handling one... or two... at one of those ‘expensive’ antiques shows
OH NO NOT THAT (Paying admission to attend, inspect, handle and study
‘antiques’ at a ‘show’. They ARE
called ‘antiques shows’?
Yes they are.) Colonial
period wooden ware; tureen ware; American, European... is constantly
‘bric-braced’ at thrift stores.
Colonial Dutch around New York; up the ‘North River’ (Hudson). Absolutely have to watch out there. New England; they’d walk right by a
maple salt. Walk right by it. ‘NO’ they’d say... ‘No design today
thank you . My head’s too full of
my own SPITTLE to want (need?) to ‘study art’.
“I
tell ‘em; those who flaunt their education: Remember all those slides you watched in that intro art
history course you took in college?
...They were about something.
They look at me like I’m an idiot.”
“And
they DO soooo KNOW what they’re doing when it comes to art.”
“Shouldn’t
we say something nice to them?”
“No. Why? They never say anything nice to us. We’re, like, ‘in the way’.
“In
their way?”
“No.
‘In THE way’ of THEIR art. They
show you a salt and pepper set of, like, ‘made in Japan’ and you go ‘ah...’ and
they go ‘I JUST LOVE IT’ and you, like, just bought a French 18th
century delft table salt up the china isle WITH THE OLD usage rim chips assuring
‘it’s old’ for fifty cents with ‘AS IS’ emphatically written on the tag too.”
“At
least they (the thrift store) put it out (offered it for sale with a price
sticker on it).”
“Yeah...: Are they swashbuckling? Ha, ha. That’s SOOOO cowboy down of them to do THAT.”
“You
know... we could say that the thrift stores actually know something about
design, although a bit innocent... I guess... but... they actually DO put the
stuff out, priced. I mean; fair
and square. They put a seventeenth
century New England salt out for fifty cents and do not try to say a THING
about doing that. They just do
it. I mean; no attitude. It’s only after they do that that the
swashbuckling begins.”
“Walking
by great art cheap is swashbuckling?”
“To
hear them tell it is. I mean...
it’s pointed out (that they DID walk by IT).”
“That
what? AND they found THEIR
art? I just take the salt, buy it
real quietly and leave. So I’m
out. That’s cowboy down. Right? Get in, get it, pay, get it out, get away clean. Right?”
“Absolutely.”
“So...
swashbuckling WHO... is... swashbuckling WHO. The thrift shoppers are the swashbucklers?”
“They’re
swashbuckling alright.”
“So
they must be swashbucklers.”
“Well
not ALL of them. I mean. The butt blockers (Part Eight)? I can’t say that.”
“They
want to be. They would if they
could. And: It would be what THEY say. I mean. If physically they could get into the fray... they wouldn’t
use a design critique either.
They’d be ‘WHAT’S THAT SHUT-UP’ too.”
“Well...
ah...
“Sorry
to say it but.. I can’t cut ‘em slack.
You know it’s true. The
whole rig of the other shoppers is headed to swashbuckle all the time. I mean: NO ONE is using design and they actually get pissed when
they find out the ‘you do’ (‘you what?’).
“It’s
our little magic wand that’s casting little magic spells that turn rubbish into
MONEY.”
“First
the spell turns the rubbish into art.
So many items I ‘find’ are told to my face to ‘cannot believe’ it is
‘that’ (art). We must, as we speak
here, keep art FIRST.”
Well...
they are grubbing along before me; grubbing.... Their dirty sausages of fingers poking, prying, sorting,
shifting... rubbish. A mound of
rubbish. Isn’t that what a GOOD
thrift store is? Ha, ha. Meanwhile I but touch my wand here or
there. I spell it; art. They’re looking for money.”
“And
there is the swashbuckler!”
“Money. Of course.”
“Now
you would be... never so low as THAT would you? NO!”
“Well...
I COULD be and then be THEM. But
art comes before money. Trumps all
money. If I was the money then I,
I believe, would be but a slut. An
isle whore. Ha, ha. Now THAT is ART. I art not MONEY. Art is first. Money tumbles along after. Do I say I like MONEY and art. NO. I like
art. The collections are of ART,
not money. No one counts money in
art... unless they are vividly crass.
“Vividly
crass is swashbuckling? Hunting
for money in a thrift shop is... vividly crass? From our vantage it certainly is. It also has the foundation flaw of assuring that if money
comes for one BEFORE art... one will have trouble finding EITHER in a thrift
store.”
“That’s
sweet of you to say”.
“Well
I’m not an art slut like you!”
“And
I’ve BEEN ONE for so many years now!
I’m not even slightly tired of being one. No one bothers me.
NO ONE.
“Yes. That is the funniest. In and out (of the thrift stores) we
go; art sluts. No one ever
notices. And I always pay in
correct change (Part Three).
Yes... remember the real rules.
Right?”
“That
is the procedure; the silent travel.
Nothing is there. There is
no ripple on the surface. No light
breeze at a window. The art (and
antiques) is gone.”
“What’s
left? The dirty sausage fingers?”
“ON
THE CLOTHES. I mean REALLY. Ugh; yuck. Do you have to touch it! ‘I have to SEE’ they say. Then LOOK... don’t TOUCH.”
“You
like that; them touching.”
“I
do not. That’s the worse
part. It’s not TOUCH anyway. It’s maul.”
“But
you’re not buying that stuff.
You’re not interested.
Actually... YOU ARE INTERESTED.
I forget your infatuations ... with your fellows.”
“Fellow
sluts. They can’t even do that; be
thrift store SLUT. I mean... If I said they were sluts they be
offended. I think it’s a
compliment these days; to be a thrift store slut. Even if you’re a crummy one. Ha, ha.”
“We
have told them. Now. Haven’t we.”
“They
won’t like it.”
“Who
cares. It’s the truth. Also... it explains the crowds in the
(thrift) stores.”
“It
DOES do that!”
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