In Over Her Head by Elsie Russell - Parnasse.com

Dick poured himself a jigger, squirted seltzer from the blue
glass bottle and slumped into the leather sofa, staring blankly at the
painting on the wall.
Who was he trying to kid? Without the Biennale his career was
on its way down the toilet. The art market had toppled worse than the
towers, and he was getting too old for this roller coaster. He rubbed his
hands over his face, moving the loose flesh to ease the tension, then
swept them over his prickly morning skull. Disaster upon disaster—
when would it ever end? Why the devil had he tried that last night? It
was those buns, those hard sweet honey buns. He needed time to think.
Hoped kicking them out wasn't going to backfire. There would be a call
any minute.
Architecture, no hit and miss there. Clean living. Abstract,
convoluted mind-scapes like that Greek the little muffin idolized.
Furnished how?
Dick found the book and poured himself another gin fizz from
the bar, a Jean Michel Frank block that loomed like Manhattan against
the wall.
The block, the cube. Walls and corners. The corners were the
problem, and modernism, no, civilization, was full of them, not just on
walls, but on beds and sheets and pillowcases, on tables and books and
picture frames!
He drained the glass, felt his bowels move like clockwork, but
felt no joy in it. The thought of working made him want to puke. He
rushed into the bathroom with the book, and an entire morning of gin
fizzes poured from his mouth into the bowl. To hell with the paint. He
turned around and dropped his trousers.
Dizzy from drinking before ten. He flipped through the
Xenakis Polytopes book, pages of swooping kinetic drawings swirled
before him. This book did nothing for him. Cyber design was the new
thing. Blobbism, Biomorphic shapes. More livable than that Greek
cyclop's parabolic utopias.
The king of the new blobbism designed everything on his
computer, without corners, splashing the Pantone palette with a
toddler's abandon. And, cyber design was clean, clean, clean.
Aah, more on the way! The Cerulean blue layer, mmm, courtesy
flush, floral spray, for his own serenity. His art career was effectively
down the toilet. Had to face facts, let the young turks flush out the old
guard! He would turn to Design, something easy to clean up. First off,
redecorate the loft. Get written up. "Le Blobbisme translucide de Dick
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