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artist, dandy, millitant, lover, fighter, peacock!"A passionate lover of crowds and incognitos, peacock!revolution!is!our!revolution! carries originality to the point of shyness. Recently, when peacock revolution learnt I had in mind to write a bio in appreciation of its mind and its talent, it begged me -- very imperiously I must admit -- to suppress its name, and if I must speak of its works, to speak of them as if they were the works of an anonymous artist. I will humbly comply with this singular request. The reader and I will preserve the fiction that peacock!revolution!is!our!revolution! does not exist, and we shall concern ourselves with its interventions, monuments and becomings (for which it professes a patrician scorn) as though we were scholars who had to pronounce upon precious historical documents, thrown up by chance, whose author must remain eternally unknown. And finally, to give complete reassurance to my conscience, it must be supposed that all I have to say of its strangely mysterious and brilliant nature is more or less suggested by the works in question-pure poetic hypothesis, conjecture, a labour of the imagination."-Charles Baudelaire- .Painter of Modern Life.JOHNNY, I'M WORRIEDOh, Johnny Im worried I dont know where you're going out tonight,In your parents car, with a cell phone, How could they let you out tonight?In the vestibule, such a famished fool, On your knees for the LOVE of another boyWith the swollen wrist, and the poisoners ring My dear, your arms are a brutal, bloody thingAnd we write the checks in anothers name Its the price of this growing fame And we write the checks in anothers name Its the price of this unholy, unspeakable fameOh, Johnny Im worried I dont know where youre going out tonight,On O'Farrell and Larkin streets, How could they let you out tonight?In the bathroom stall, where you took my call, On your knees for the LOVE of another boy.. ..>"When finally the jeans were off, Peter pressed himself into Carl's chest, breathing heavily and making small groaning noises into Carl's ear..." A Dandy is a clothes-wearing Man, a Man whose trade, office and existence consists in the wearing of Clothes. Every faculty of his soul, spirit, purse, and person is heroically consecrated to this one object, the wearing of Clothes wisely and well: so that the others dress to live, he lives to dress ... And now, for all this perennial Martyrdom, and Poesy, and even Prophecy, what is it that the Dandy asks in return? Solely, we may say, that you would recognise his existence; would admit him to be a living object; or even failing this, a visual object, or thing that will reflect rays of light...."videoart is forever! wear it like heaven!