First of all, thanks to the university for the swanky hotel. It’s a real five-star pad. The security is especially top notch, they wouldn’t even let my drug-addict friends come up to my room at all.  That’s class.

Look, kids. I’m lucky. Anything I have gained in my professional career as an artist was due to who I know. So, above anything else, buy rich and famous people drinks and cigarettes and cocaine. There is a good chance they might remember you for it, maybe!

And hey. Anyone can be an artist. If that anyone knows when their work is truly done.

Do they teach that in school? Fuck, I didn’t go. I bet they forgot to tell you that. Ah well.

Good luck. And remember, And Warhol wasn’t Andy Warhol until he was, like, thirty-three.

Just like Jesus.