GREGORY FOR TWENTY ODD YEARS THE ART WORLD SUFFERED A DROUGHT,

THEN ALONG CAME MY GUEST ON THE PROGRAM TONIGHT:

A MAN WHOSE LIFE STORY WE ALL KNOW BY ROTE,

PLEASE WELCOME GREGORY, GREGORY QUITE.

MR. QUITE, TAKE US BACK TO THAT TERRIBLE TIME

BEFORE YOU WERE WEALTHY, A HOUSEHOLD NAME

THAT TIME WHEN YOU WERE FEELING SO DESTITUTE

YOU DIDN'T WANT TO BE GREGORY, GREGORY QUITE?

WELL, NOT LONG AFTER OUR FATHER DIED

MY BROTHER MANAGED TO GET MY WORK DISPLAYED

WELL, OF COURSE NO ONE CAME. I'D EXPECTED THAT.

THE WORLD WASN'T READY FOR GREGORY QUITE.

I'D HAD DOZENS OF SHOWS SINCE I QUIT COLLEGE, AND BEFORE.

NO ONE CAME TO THOSE EITHER AND I LEARNED NOT TO CARE,

BUT SOMEHOW AFTER THIS ONE I FELT MY HEART DEFLATE.

IT WAS THE END OF GREGORY, GREGORY QUITE.

SO I CUT OFF ALL TIES AND I WANDERED IN SHAME

THROUGH WET, EMPTY STREETS, NO FRIEND, NO HOME.

FOR THREE WEEKS I DRIFTED LIKE A GHOST, PROSTRATE

THE SHADOW OF GREGORY, GREGORY QUITE.

THEN ONE NIGHT I MANAGED TO GET HOLD OF A GUN.

A VOICE INSIDE ME SAID "GO, AS FAST AS YOU CAN!

STICK IT IN YOUR MOUTH AND ELIMINATE

THIS PATHETIC GREGORY, GREGORY QUITE.

BUT SOMETHING ABOUT SEEING MY WORK ON THE WALL

LIFTED ME OUT OF THAT SPIRALING HELL

I THOUGHT, "WHY DOESN'T EVERY ART LOVER FROM HERE TO THE TATE

KNOW ABOUT GREGORY, GREGORY QUITE?"

AND ALTHOUGH I WAS BRUSHED OFF, PASSED OVER, IGNORED

BY EVERYONE IN PORTLAND, I STOOD AND I STARED

AND I FELT MY MOTHER'S TOUCH FROM ABOVE

TELLING ME TO LIVE, AND I WANTED TO LIVE, I WANTED TO—

reclinerland hq