You always put your art in rectangles and I don't like it. Why can't it be more like a firework in the guts? Why do you stand next to it looking bereaved? Get out of its way.
Your mind's too wide. You'll let the flies in. Why can't you point yourself at something and go off? And your clothes are all magaziney and it doesn't suit you. And your numerous other faults are flapping around everywhere like a tree of crippled tongues on a blustery night and they keep touching people and it's creepy. Apart from that I enjoyed myself and would like to meet again soon. Text me.