Episode I: Art is Suffering
Dec 6, 2021 13:03:33 GMT -5
Masters of the Tooniverse and levy like this
Post by Giovanni on Dec 6, 2021 13:03:33 GMT -5
[ The Giovanni Penthouse ]
Whilst the weather outside was becoming ever the more frightful, the fire inside of the Giovanni penthouse felt ever more delightful. We find ourselves in the lounge where we see Giovanni most boredly running his eyes through a newspaper and becoming ever the more desperate by the second.
How can it be that these hacks can write so much without telling me anything interesting today! Giovanni would exclaim in frustration, balling up the newspaper and without much of a second thought throwing it straight into the fireplace which didn’t need any motivation to swallow it whole in flames.
Giovanni would run a hand through his perfectly kemt head of hair, the man proud of always looking his best even if mentally and artistically he was far removed from the glory days of when he actually had a modicum of inspiration to put forth towards masterpieces.
Aww, you threw the paper away. I still wanted to read the comics! a voice would come from outside of the room, before long Giovanni being joined by his one and only muse, Calliope, whose disappointment was quickly replaced by the indefatigable optimism of his object of artistical inspiration. I really hoped it had the one with the silly dog, he’s always so silly! she exclaimed.
Our artiste would throw up his hands in frustration, tapping his forehead once and giving a frustrated glance towards Calliope. That cartoon dog is a vapid caricature of the business world, drawn by a hack who never spent more than two minutes in art-school before giving up on and spending the rest of his career drawing uninspired satire! he’d reply in further frustration.
Calliope would take seat behind Giovanni, idly running her hand through his luscious head of hair, looking wistfully at the final bit of paper being turned to ashes. I liked the one where the coffee was cold and the silly dog said something about not liking three day old iced coffee… she’d tell to nobody in particular. If they wanted cold coffee, they should’ve just gotten iced coffee!
Sighing deeply, Giovanni would further slump in his chair away from the fiddly hands of his muse. Exhaustion scored his facial features. Calliope, my dear, it’s just an inane joke about equally inane inter-office annoyances. he’d explain further, although it was clear in his tone that he had little hope it would land.
Not waiting for the answer, Giovanni removed himself out of the lounge chair and walk up to the window overlooking the city. Putting his arm against the glass, he leaned forward pressing his head up against it, feeling the slight chill of the winter air through the glass.
It’s truly no use. There’s truly nothing in this world that can bring forth the inspiration I need to create my next masterpiece. I’ve tried singing, modelling, painting and even spent a day trying crochet. But there’s nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing right now that can inspire my brilliant mind. It’s like someone has taken an icepick and jammed it straight through my brain, for no stray mind inside of it can even remotely be inspirational.
Sighing deeply, he’d bonk his head against the glass almost as if he wanted it to shatter and take him into the void below one final time, for it would be less painful than the suffering he went through on a daily basis.
It is as if the masters themselves have cursed me from beyond the grave, the Picasso’s and the Beethoven’s, and even the great Gianni Versace seem to have forsaken my brilliant artistical soul to wander this earth inspirationless until I undoubtedly wilt away like a dying tulip that once showed its colours so brightly. My palette, which was once veritably infinite in colours is now just a single shade of gray. he lamented, softly hitting his head against the glass every so often as a further defiant swipe against the architects of his house.
For seconds it stayed quiet, Giovanni silent in lamentation and Calliope in the middle of feasting on a handful of grapes taken from the bowl of fruit that had stood upon the table in the lounge. Huh, did you say something? I think you mentioned something about Fifty Shades? she’d pipe up in blissful ignorance, having heard nothing of what Giovanni had said.
Giovanni would let out a deep guttural groan as what hope that was left in his system now fully decided to take the quick way down through the glass itself. But Giovanni, undeterred about being unheard and unempathized with in his pain, turned away from the glass and desperately moved closer to Calliope, holding her chin in his hands and looking into her endless eyes.
My muse, I’m dying, not physically but artistically. I’m wrestling constantly with the mortality of my inspiration, and not even your beautifully innocent mind can grapple me away from the edge!
Calliope would smile, feeling touched by his words, holding his hands in hers and with the closeness she wanted nothing more than to move in close and plant her lips on his. But just as she could fulfil that wish, Giovanni would move himself away as energy had returned to his face.
That’s it, how did I not see it before! Oh Calliope, you’ve brought the inspiration back to me yet again! I now know what I have to do! he’d exclaim, energy and vigor returning to his voice.
Calliope on the other hand, seemed distraught at the unfulfillment of her desire. But recomposed herself in trying to play it cool, and cupping her own chin in her hands. She’d look up at Giovanni with a smile. What is it? What do you have to do? she asked, slightly forlon but trying her best to stay positive.
Giovanni turned around with a bright smile, his arms outstretched as if he had just figured out his magnum opus. To wrestle with my artistical mortality, I should just do that literally. The art of wrestling is filled with dullards and simpletons, but perhaps in such a thrilling environment will both heart and mind be reconnected to the artistical. The mat is a canvas all on its own, and perhaps my genius can fill it with beauty that all those sad losers could never even imagine being gifted to them!
W-Wait, W-Wrestling? You wanna try wrestling?! Calliope asked almost incredulously at the insane idea. But Giovanni, you’ve never had a fight in your life, I mean other than that one time you tried to fight that art critic from the New Yorker that called your art ‘About as beautiful as a baby in a minefield’. she exclaimed, skeptical about Giovanni’s sudden fancy.
The artiste would scoff, waving his hands at Calliope and the notion of not being able to fight. Nonsense, my muse. How hard can it be when the majority of wrestlers can’t even see the difference between their Paolozzi’s and their Hamilton’s! I’d say most of them probably haven’t even spent a single moment thinking about the true art of wrestling inside of a squared circle.
Turning around once more, his eyes would look at the flames of the fireplace as the gears inside of his head were firmly starting to move around after such a long time of standing still.
Besides, that art critic wouldn’t have been out of place with that crowd. A complete brute whose only concept of a masterpiece is finding the bottom of a bottle! he scoffed further.
Taking his phone out, he started to search, for the one place that he could brighten up with the coming of an artistical genius. Who could elevate their uninspired palette to one of imponderably bright and vivid colours.
I’ve found it, Project Honor! Even the name makes sense, a place of honorable combatants will be the perfect locale for me to show my talents. I shall not just make this company more honorable than they’ve ever been since crawling out of the gutter, I shall elevate them to the top of the world with my artistry. In the ring, outside the ring, Project Honor shall become synonymous with the name Giovanni, with the guarantee of artistical perfection!
Turning back to face Calliope, Giovanni’s excitement seemed to only further grow by the second. And he couldn’t help but whisk his beautiful muse from her chair and to a standing position.
Come, my muse. We have to prepare for this enervating experience, and we have no time to lose! he’d say almost with childlike glee.
Dashing away to wherever, Calliope still seemed to have many more doubts than Giovanni seemed to have. But with a light sigh, she chose to follow him dutifully. I just hope none of those dumb brutes will hurt your beautiful face!
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[ Staples Center, Los Angeles ]
Finding ourselves yet again in the presence of Giovanni and his muse Calliope, they are now in the final proceedings for Giovanni to make true on his inspiration and start wrestling in Project Honor.
Giovanni, how do I look? Calliope would exclaim as she had finished getting dressed and looking for approval.
Holding his heart, Giovanni would only smile warmly at Calliope’s inspirational presence. My dear Calliope, you truly are too great for this world, and truly too great for the ignorant masses in Los Angeles! he praised, causing Calliope to get all the more giddy.
But for a second her more serious face returned as she worried once more. But are you really sure about this wrestling thing? This Serrano Poblano looks like bad news, and I don’t want you getting hurt! What if you hurt your head, and your brilliant artistical mind is forever lost to me! she’d ask with a pouty face.
Giovanni would laugh without worry as he strapped his final boot and made sure everything fitted as well as he knew he looked. Nonsense my muse, this Serrano is nothing more than a failed chef whose trying to use wrestling as a hopeless way to reinspire himself! They don’t stand a chance against me. he exclaimed, completely oblivious to the irony at play.
This match will be over before you know it, my mind’s as sharp as it has ever been before today and my body now is just as sharp! I was in perfect shape, the preparation for my debut has only made this diamond all the more sparkling.
Getting up from the bench in the dingy little locker room, he’d put a hand on Calliope’s cheek and smiled at her. I’ll be fine, it takes more than a so called ‘Ambassador of FlavorTown’, which isn’t even a real town, to beat the greatest artistical mind to have ever stepped foot into a wrestling ring! And I’ll beat that slob quick enough for him to go sell hotdogs to all the other slobs in attendance!
Laughing heartily, he’d wrap his arm around Calliope’s shoulder and walked with her towards where he’d make his grand entrance.
I’ll tell you this, this Proving Ground will be my chance to prove to the rest of the world that beauty can be found in everything, even something as inherently ugly and mind-numbing as wrestling. I shall be the saviour of this forgotten sport, and through this artistical renaissance I shall become the most beloved and most respected artist in this ugly world. Nobody shall doubt me again, and nobody shall dare to criticize my work again, for in this company I shall create my magnum opus. he claimed ever so boisterously, making sure every ear close by could hear what he had to say.
Turning to face Calliope one final time, he took her hand and gave it a respectful peck. His eyes sparkled in hers. And I couldn’t have done it without you, my muse, to inspire me when I was in the deepest pits of artistical despair. And together, we shall herald in my rise to artistical and wrestling stardom!
From all that Giovanni had said, or just his presence alone, Calliope’s heart had been soothed and her worries had been wiped away. Instead, what was left was an equally inspired muse who wanted to be there rooting for Giovanni. I should never have doubted you! I’m sure this ugly Serrano won’t even be able to operate a school cafeteria when you’re done with him!
In the distance, ‘Vogue’ started to play and that meant it was time for Giovanni to make his grand entrance. And with his muse close by, he confidently strode forward.
This business won’t be the same after I have brought forth the Giovanni revolution!
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