As I wander and sashay my fatass amongst one of the greatest art collections in the world, this is what an old hooker thinks about:
I just this second invented an iPhone app for Women of a Certain Age. Once purchased and installed, it shall measure the best camera angle at which an iPhone photo is most advantageously shot. For example, for every year past the age of 40 and for every pound over the suggested weight charts released by the nation’s largest health insurance companies, the camera moves up one degree. When it hits the optimum angle at which to eradicate Chin Whiskers, Florida Evans Neck, and Gargantuan Gunt, the app will beep and alert the photographer to kick that shutter in the gottdamned taco ASAP.
For the record, until such time that my new app is completed — and trust me when I tell you, this WILL happen — when I, myself, am being photographed, I ruthlessly insist that the shooter scramble up onto the motherfucking chandelier directly above my head and capture me from there. To wit…here Gregory photographs me whilst hanging precariously, ala KING LOUIE, from a rough-hewn rafter high in the cathedral-like ceiling of The Getty Center Museum.
I got no shame.