Maggie May or May Not by Ken Kenan

Sep 16, 2009 by

Maggie May or May Not

by Ken Kenan

Oh Maggie I couldn’t have tried any more
You lured me away from home just to save you from being alone
You stole my heart and that’s what really hurt


Ok, I know that some of you have been suspicious of me for months. And, now that my mission here is nearly complete, I can fess up. I am indeed a spy from the planet Craponus, the pulsating source of all artists’ creative urgings on planet Earth. However, please don’t be alarmed. I’m here to help. I’ve been sent here to eavesdrop on all artists and their intimate conversations with Maggie, the internal muse we’ve implanted into their brains. We like to think of her as our very own viral infection that contaminates artists with all their artistic aspirations. The good news is that we’ve resolved the “lure you away from home” issues. And, I’ve come to Earth with the new beta version of Maggie 2.1 to hopefully iron out the “steal your heart” kinks. And, yes, that IS what really hurts. We plan to signal you through Blue Dog. When he turns orange, all outstanding “heart” issues will have been resolved. Watch for it.

Meanwhile, I thought you might enjoy a few of “gems” of internal dialogue I’ve collected during my stay. The first is an excerpt from an intercepted communication at Half Moon:

Saturday morning, 2:13 a.m.

Artist: “But honey, I’ve done everything you’ve asked! You told me to crank up the music, finish the bottle of vodka, strip down to my skivvies and get to work. I finished 17 paintings in two weeks! And, now you’re telling me they look like crap?

Maggie: (in a low sultry voice) “Dahling, what did I tell you about that alizarin crimson? She’s no good for you, I said.”

Artist: “But you said she was your favorite!”

Maggie: “Yes, but I didn’t tell you to finger paint her. And then you led her into that ménage-a-trois with cadmium yellow and forest green. Sigh… it’s a disaster.”

Artist: “So, what can I do?”

Maggie: “Well (long pause)… maybe you should enter No Dead Artists.”

And another captured from the hallway just outside the bathroom at The Front:

Saturday evening 8:35 p.m.

Maggie: (mile-a-minute) “You’ve got to stop worrying about what the other grafitti… uh, excuuuuse me, street artists, are doing.  Just get out there and spray, spray, spray! I want to see POMPUS all over New Orleans, like mosquitoes on tire water.

POMPUS: “Jesus, Maggie. You know how expensive this paint is? I’ve gone without AC all summer and I can’t even pay the rent!  Besides, I’ll never be as famous as HARSH. I mean, do you think Skyler Fein would ever do a flashing sign tribute to me, like the one at NOMA?”

Maggie: “POMPUS, if you don’t get out there, I’m gonna make a big flashing bulb sign myself and shove it up your a… Hey, that reminds me. Did you hear about the Feds seizing Ray Nagins’ missing emails?

And this one in the middle of the afternoon at Coup d’oeil Art Consortium, otherwise known as “The Coup”:

Wednesday, 3:45 p.m.

Maggie: Hmmm, I think you could just knock down this wall and install the port-o-potty with strobe lights that triggers a siren alarm anytime someone goes to use it. You know, just for shits and giggles.

TReX: Damn, why didn’t I think of that! You’re a fukkin’ genius, Maggie!

Maggie: And then, we should paint the windows black, close down the street, and have a big-ass circus, with jugglers and clowns and lions and…

TReX: God, I love you.

Maggie: I love you too, sugar dumplings.

Ken C: Wait, you’re gonna do WHAT to my gallery?

Maggie, TReX: (simultaneously) OH, YOU HEARD THAT!?!

And that, as we say on Craponus, is just the tip of the intergalactic Ray-Ray (chuckle, snort). So, if you happen to be a pathetic muse-crossed artist out there who wishes to share his or her Maggie story, for science’s sake, fess up! The Craponusians thank you.

Only in NOLA, baby.

Posted by Rex on behalf of Ken Kenan

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