Post by Giovanni on Dec 22, 2021 5:39:04 GMT -5
“Joining the likes of Malachite Minj and Jonathan Levy; Giovanni is yet another delusional artist looking to revive their flagging and forgettable career as artist by making a beyond desperate attempt to enter the wrestling business. Allegedly to ‘bring art into wrestling’, but what is undoubtedly a sad attempt to bring relevancy back to a career that never involved any sort of relevance.
Whilst Giovanni won his match, from what I heard at least, against Serrano Poblano at that, it was nothing but a disappointing example of how far a lack of talent can allow someone to fall in this world. Whilst I personally would never be caught dead looking at any of Giovanni’s art without getting ample restitution for it, I can safely say that whatever fumbling he can do in a wrestling ring can only be even worse and sadder than any artwork he’s made or will ever make in his miserable life of what he wants to call ‘Artistry’.
Not since he’s given us ‘Baby in a Minefield’ have I heard of something so sad and pathetic in my career as an art-critic.
And before you ask, no I haven’t seen him wrestle, because I respect my time and my sanity too much to spend any time giving this man any more of my critique. This article is merely a warning, caveat emptor if you will, for anybody out there that is morbidly curious in the trainwreck that is Giovanni, to stay well clear of this new pathetic attempt at getting attention.” – Javid Seltzer, Art Observer Newsletter - 12/18/2012
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[ The Giovanni Penthouse ]
Who the hell gives a shit about Seltzer ratings?! Giovanni’s voice would exclaim in anger.
Once more, a paper was balled up and tossed into the fireplace, happily the fireplace would consume it all with an especially grateful crackle and pop as the blaze was lit up a little bit higher from the added fuel.
Calliope would once more look disappointed at being unable to read the funny pages, but knowing the futility of mentioning it after the fact she merely sighed a little bit as she softly sipped her cup of tea.
I’ve heard many people read his newsletter, apparently they put a lot of stock into his ratings. she mentioned as she picked up a small biscuit and dunked it into the tea. You could always try and use it to figure out what people want to see? she asked, taking a bite from the soggy biscuit, but quickly regretting both the choice of words and the choice of biscuit.
Giovanni would look all the more frustrated as he’d ran a hand through his luscious head of hair, such vigorous treatment not being conducive to still having it in about a decade.
That ragsheet reporter is a hack who sits in his mother’s basement lambasting the artistical efforts of men and women significantly more talented than they would ever be. And just because an artpiece hangs in the Louvre doesn’t automatically give it a ‘seven star rating’, whatever the hell that even means on a five star scale. he ranted and raved. Besides, most art fans are complete idiots, too. Letting losers like this ‘Seltzer’ tell them what is and what isn’t true art, meaning they’ll spend hours ogling a tiny picture of Mona Lisa when a bigger masterpiece of Damaskinos is right behind them on the other wall! he spouted.
The redness in Giovanni’s face was obvious that he wasn’t finished ranting yet, but for the sake of himself and his innocent muse he’d let out an excruciatingly deep sigh before shrugging as if it meant nothing to him.
It doesn’t matter, Seltzer ratings don’t matter either. My art will reign supreme, inside the ring and outside of it people will in due time recognize the artistical genius that is Giovanni. The canvas is where I make my masterpieces, whether that’s with brush and paint or the bottom of my boot to the chin of whatever dullard they’ll put in front of me next time!
Looking out of his oversized window onto the unnamed city below, Giovanni stretched out and tried his best to put on a brave face in front of the uncaring and cold world that refused to accept him. Defiantly he’d stay strong, because one day he’d prove them how foolish they had all been to refuse his genius.
Oh, Calliope, my dear muse. Who IS my next foe for this next show in that disgusting rat-infested hellhole that Americans dare call ‘New’, New York? he’d ask openly.
Calliope wouldn’t answer, for her mind had wandered elsewhere already as she continued to sip on her tea and think about something far away from reality. But the buzzing of her phone distracted her once more, a cacophony of cat-ish sounds emanating from her phone, in between the heavily stylized producing of what is very much an aggressively J-Pop sound.
My dear muse, what in the everloving image of the Madonna is that infernal noise coming from your telephone?! Giovanni would ask, utterly confused what kind of fad Calliope had gotten herself into now.
Calliope would quickly put the phone away again, her attention fully on Giovanni rather than whoever was annoying him at this time of day. She’d put on a sugary sweet smile, running her tea spoon through her tea.
Uh, that’s nothing. When I was younger, I’d use to have a total crush on Malachite Minj. But totally not anymore, how can I when there’s someone much more beautiful in my life right now? she’d cup her hand whistfully as she ogled Giovanni.
Giovanni wouldn’t think anything of it, as he ignored the lovey dovey eyes of his muse and continued to his own thoughts.
It sounds horrible, like cats dying, please remove it because it’s heavily straining my inspiration! he’d command coldly, unconcerned with Calliope’s past or present idolatry.
Picking up the phone to dutifully do so, her eyes grew a little bit wider as she remembered something important. Oh, I completely forgot. He’s actually your tag partner next week, you and him will have to face ‘The Phantom Troupe’! she exclaimed, instantly remembering what she had been asked earlier.
Giovanni cocked his head, wondering if his dear muse had potentially hit hers at some point earlier. But after thinking about it for a few seconds, the confusion wouldn’t become less significant.
What’s with all these failed delusional artists not just being in this company, but also being associated with someone as brilliant as me?! Did they see my brilliant actions and thought to emulate it, not realizing that unlike them, I am neither failed nor delusional?! he pondered loudly.
Well actually, he made his debut bef-
The fact of the matter is, I joined this company because it is my artistical calling, it is divinity itself speaking to me. Not just some pathetic way to keep a failed career relevant despite all attempts of the world to make it obvious that they’re unwanted. And just because this ‘Minj’, whoever they may be, has made some utterly ghoulish music at some point in their life, doesn’t mean they have anything to seek in a wrestling ring, or flanking my greatness in any sort of match! he exclaimed, his face once more becoming redder by the second.
Yet again, a frustrated hand went through an innocent head of hair, but he’d try his best to continue recomposing himself, an infinite ballet of getting worked up and calming down.
Letting out a sigh, he’d take a seat opposite to Calliope and tended to his tea, but from all his self-frustrating it had only gotten cold and bland. So, let me guess, the two losers that I will undoubtedly have to face on my own are also two delusional self-interested mouth-breathing wannabe artists who are trying to leech off of my brilliance? he’d question rhetorically.
Flicking through her phone for a little bit more information, Calliope’s smile would grow bigger in the hope of delivering good news.
Actually no, they are two wrestlers by the name of Kyle Valentine and DJ Hunter. They team up under the name of ‘Phantom Troupe’! she’d exclaim with a smile, but it would quickly lessen at the sight of Giovanni’s lack of excitement.
Pah, they call themselves a troupe and have zero connection to the arts. A bunch of poseurs trying to fool the simple-minded masses of having a modicum of artistiscal talent… I bore of such people, I bore of a two-some of ‘wrestlers’ who probably think they have this wrestling business figured out… It’s like a tragic, one brilliant mind surrounded by the dullest of the dim lights. Faced with disappointment and forced to make brilliant works of art when the clay is brittle and lifeless. he’d say, giving up on his cold tea even before taking the first sip.
Letting out a deeper sigh, Giovanni ran a hand through his hand as gears grinded in his mind.
But perhaps not all is lost, my dear Calliope. After all, I came to this company, I went into this business to show not just the brilliance of my work but also the superiority of the artistical in a sport that has zero sense of art. These two will do better than that loser Poblano did, perhaps they have potential, potential for me to show my brilliance on the squared canvas and give them both a very painful and eye-opening lesson in physical artistry.
Nodding to himself, he’d get up from his seat once more, restless legs being unable to keep themselves from staying still. The act of being sedentary being near impossible for an artist such as Giovanni, who is always seeking to keep his art moving forward.
So how are you going to approach this? I’m sure you will be better than all of them, because you’re the most brilliant person I’ve ever met, but this Phantom Troupe has picked up wins against established teams. And if as you say, Minj will not help you, then will you really be able to beat them on your own? she pondered out loud, feeling hurt at the mere implication of putting Giovanni’s abilities in doubt, but her sense of reason overpowered any guilt towards her idol of adoration.
Giovanni laughed, partly derisively and partly looking slightly insulted at the doubt levied at him. But he laughed it off all the same, because he was never lacking in self-confidence in his abilities, and his sense of superiority over any and all.
Running his hand across Calliope’s cheek, he’d smile at her warmly. My dear Calliope, they are two dullards that only know how to wrestle. They don’t know how to make art like Giovanni, they will have nary a clue of how to face a genius like me who can combine both the brutish martial prowess of a wrestler with the pure and beautiful that is artistry. Neither this ‘DJ Valentine’ or ‘Kyle Hunter’ will ever have faced a man as brilliant as I. They’ve faced other wrestlers, other narrow-minded simpletons with the same outlook on the sport as they have, so they cannot remotely understand the ways I operate, I will simply outsmart them and outwit them in ways they couldn’t have imagined in their entire gray and drab lives. he’d explain, removing his hand from Calliope’s cheek before she got too comfortable with it once more. Whether it’s by kick or by hold, by slam or by… er… hold. I will outwrestle these wannabe Phantoms both in their style, and in my own artistical style. And stand tall above the two of them in my superiority… And that Minj, I guess, will have the fortune of one time standing on the same side as I do, if only because the choice is not mine to make in that regard… he lamented.
Stepping away, Giovanni gestured at Calliope to flank him. His mind was sharp and his body was too, but he’d never stop honing it further through practice, and the presence of his muse would also push him to achieve his greatest masterpieces, even if said masterpiece was his own body and mind.
But before they left, Calliope checked her phone a final time to make sure she mentioned everything.
Oh, I forgot to mention, apparently the match is a ‘hog pen match’. she’d answer innocently, not knowing what the implication of such a match was.
But Giovanni knew, his face mortified and wide-eyed in shock. The thought of being stuck in such a demeaning situation very clear in his mind, and not being welcomed with open arms by it.
This must be the work of that Seltzer! He’s trying to demean me, make me look foolish in front of the world, I will not stand for that! Come Calliope, I will train triply as much to make them all look foolish through my brilliance! he’d storm away angrily.
But I thought mud was good for the skin?! Calliope followed along in confusion as to why Giovanni had become so angry…
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