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Tara's Advice

[whitespace] Tara

Hot for Coffeehouse Art

Dear Tara!
Help! I've got a problem, a big problem. You see, I am "erotically fixated" on coffeehouse art--it gives me a big boner! And the worse the art is, the more I drool. If I go into a java joint and see a painting of a tortured head in neon colors, I go nuts. If I see tragic shots of the photographer's punky friends looking bitter and smug in urban settings, I have to immediately go into the bathroom to "relieve" myself. And don't even get me started on found-art assemblages! Tara, what can I do? My fetish is growing with intensity, and every street of this city has a coffeehouse packed to the rafters with somebody's self-expression. It's only a matter of time before my lust explodes. I'm afraid that I'm going to hurt someone!
Signed, Can I See Your Etchings?

Dear Can,
You're a mess. Longtime readers of this column know that I generally tell people to turn their defects into assets, but in your case your basic psychology is so deeply flawed, I just can't get involved. I mean, sometimes we drive by a terrible car wreck and one look at the bodies and blood tells us, "Keep driving, it's too late for help." Generally, I believe in a loving Creator, a power that doesn't give us hardships for no reason, but I think you should explore the possibility that someone malevolent made you.
Better luck next time, Tara

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From the November 2-15, 1998 issue of the Metropolitan.

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