Half face_2.Toulouse Lautrec

Half face

2. Toulouse-Lautrec

It wasn't that I particularly hated women or anything. However, whenever he was alone, he would often imagine banging a woman in his head. I didn't know why such terrible thoughts kept coming into my head. He understood that he might be dissatisfied with his own desires or that he might be angry at the many women who treated him like a bug. He convinced himself that he could do it. He was in control of himself very well and everything was just imagination. He sometimes felt an inexplicable pity when he saw people on the news who committed violence against women because they could not control their impulses. A volunteer doctor at the school's free psychological counseling center gave him this advice: "Right now it's just imagination, but the more that imagination becomes concrete in giving you vicarious satisfaction, the more difficult it will be to control your impulses. For example, even now, you can't say things like exactly what part of the body you want to hit, with what force, and how. You are saying that these things are very dangerous. If this compensation mentality becomes more severe, actual adult women with substance may be requested as targets. “If you suddenly feel the urge to go outside, see a real body, and turn your imagination into reality, then I recommend taking medicine.” Miep regretted that she had applied for psychological counseling for no reason. Even if I re-applied, I was waiting in line for a flood of free consultations, so whether I would get another opportunity was a guess. However, it was impossible to go out of my own pocket to receive expensive counseling services. However, Mif would often stop by the art museum to seek proper relief for the cruel desires that only he knew about. After looking around at the surviving swords with a burning desire, Mif went to a room with numerous life-size paintings of naked voluptuous women. Miff, like a person with a serious knowledge of art, would look at the faces of the women in the picture one by one, step by step. After choosing a woman who suited my taste and mood that day, I would stand in front of that woman's picture for a long time, slowly staring at her white, bursting flesh, and imagine hitting her harder and harder. I imagine the woman's face gradually becoming distorted, a group of women running around naked and shameless in a bright spring garden running away screaming, and the woman caught in his hands crying out and being beaten. Miep would torment the woman he had chosen with his heart, mainly by stabbing her in the buttocks and abdomen, and then stabbing her several times to make sure she didn't get too sick. Judging from the smile and satisfaction on his face, anyone who knew him could see that he was very well versed in art and that he especially valued and loved the painting. Miep wandered around the museum for hours, carrying out her daily routine, and in the end, with a sense of emptiness and a wandering mind with nowhere to go, she walked out of the museum as the sun was setting. He had a special confidence in his own senses, and not without good reason. Although he was only a moderately excellent student as an engineer, the metal artifacts he made and threw around often attracted extraordinary attention of their own. Mif would engrave tiny letters deep inside the crafts he created, as if he was ejaculating, small and clear. When Miff disposed of his sixth piece in the park, he was finally able to search on a local community site called Craig to see someone talking about his work. It was written like this: “I found another strange kettle with ‘Mazef’ written on it. Last time I was jogging, someone left household items on the side of the road, so I tried to clean them up because I could get hurt. At that time, it was something similar to a ladle. It has a ladle, but the handle is a blade. To open soup, you have to hold the blade. I could see the very small letters ‘Mazef’ engraved on the deepest part of the ladle. This time, there was something extraordinary about this round kettle. It has a muzzle, but almost all sides of the muzzle have holes as if they were punched. If you pour water on it, water will leak out like a fountain along all the holes. I again found the name by rubbing my hand inside the deepest part of the kettle. For some reason, I thought there might be a name there, but when I looked at it under the light of my cell phone, it was clearly written there again. The name ‘Mazef’!” People who logged on to share the small but exciting events that occurred in the area with these texts and pictures became somewhat excited and continued their comments with discussions about whether they should look for other works or whether the artist named Majeff was a famous installation artist. However, the discussion died down quickly, and a few days later, someone said that he had found a pair of rusty scissors on the street with a nail written on them that said 'Mazef', but no one even liked his post. Anyway, Miff felt an inexplicable joy and satisfaction when she saw the photos of her two works, 'Knife Ladle' and 'Leaking Spout', posted along with various contributions. ‘Hardened Scissors’ wasn’t popular, but I didn’t really care. He named the work 'Nailed Scissors' because he drove a long nail into the joint of two perpendicular blades of the scissors. However, the person who picked up the scissors said that the scissors were very dangerous and dirty, so they immediately threw them in the trash, and even though Miff hurriedly searched all the trash cans nearby, the work could not be recovered. Miep goes to visit the woman(?) who discovered the kettle and ladle right now, and he reveals that he is the author of all those works, and is obsessed with imagining spending exciting time with her. She must be a very sensitive and thoughtful woman. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been able to pay such attention to the common trash on the side of the road and even find the name secretly hidden there. Maybe she was a fetish major like him. Otherwise, how could one know so accurately about the crafting method of the work? At the same time, Miep remembered that the other three works were still being ignored, and her reality was that she could not even mention at all about the undiscovered works, whose meaning, delivery, and symbolism were much better than those of the revealed works. I couldn't handle it. Miep truly thought that the world did not understand her genius and artistry. As an extension of that thought, with a bit of humility and modesty added, he was able to stop his thoughts by reaching the self-consolation and chronic rationalization that everyone is in fact a genius artist, but they just lack the courage to unleash that artistry in reality. As he came to these thoughts, Mif's depression worsened and he had to turn around and re-enter the museum. He used to pathologically seek out naked women who could serve as new objects of desire and satisfaction, but most of them had the arrogant look on their faces that he hated so much. Still, he could not be at all satisfied with the idea of purchasing for a dollar or less the kind of vulgar sexual activity that one would normally encounter without that level of surviving sublimity. Miep used to admire the moments full of women's vitality captured by the painters of the time, and he used to get angry at the eternal immaturity of women who showed no signs of improving even with the passage of time. On one wall of the art museum I visited again, two women, one with red hair and one with blonde hair, naked from the waist down, measuring 25 inches wide and 31 inches tall, were lying diagonally. The smell of flesh exposed above the black stockings that barely covered the knees stung his nose. The mound that he could not dare to climb up was simply hiding his long-standing desire to see it due to his twisted legs, and the sheerness and lightness of the top he wore as flawlessly as possible was enough to imagine the hanging breasts matching his legs. Her friend and co-worker, who was lying quietly next to her with her front facing up, with her side exposed, was also wearing a flimsy one-piece dress that could easily be rolled up once she lifted it up with her hands, and the fluffy, colorful bedding on which the two of her were comfortably leaning was mistaken for three women lying on it. It looked so obscene and comfortable. Miep probably thought that before civilization even began, humans would have spent a lot of time pursuing ample pleasure, and that even if their lifespan was only a small fraction of what modern people enjoy now, the amount of pleasure they could have must have been the same. did. Miep really loved the work ‘Sofa’ by the artist Toulouse-Lautrec and also admired his work. His inferiority and his terrible perversion had suddenly become art, semi-permanently monopolizing a corner of the museum. Miep could simultaneously feel all the voyeurism and the unbearable shame of hesitation that resided inside the painter Toulouse-Lautrec. Toulouse was a very unfortunate man who had to be born a dwarf and weak due to his family history of rampant intermarriage, and what was more, he suffered a limp due to an accident. The only women who accepted him were the old, fat women at the brothel, and Toulouse-Lautrec almost lived in that brothel. He squandered most of the assets bequeathed to him by his wealthy family among the women he had abandoned, and he began not only to taste and enjoy them, but to lust after them greedily and ravenously. However, no matter how obsessed he was with stripping away the shabby nature of reality, Toulouse-Lautrec was unable to powerfully and dominantly ravage and destroy them, even in his paintings. The more he tried, the more the women in his paintings, despite their embarrassing appearance, ended up being comfortable and ended up with a pleasant ending. His drawing skills were eventually recognized and he was given the job of drawing show posters for numerous brothels, and his unique creative method and unrivaled bold painting style later went on to change the face of almost all show posters in France. In his posters, the madness of dancers trying to transcend reality was displayed in bright blue under brutal lighting. Despite his enormous success, he was still treated as a limp little dwarf in the world. He tried to relieve his emptiness and dissatisfaction through binge drinking and prostitution. He was eventually forced into a mental hospital by his family and died of syphilis at the early age of thirty-six. Miep stared at the ugly red-haired woman in the picture he drew for a long time. This woman was lying down leisurely, her entire body relaxed, looking with somewhat playful eyes at the woman lying next to her. At the same time, she looked at me sarcastically and kept her mouth pursed, as if she wanted to say something but was holding back. The woman next to her was wearing a single layer of pink cotton fabric. What is that expression on your face? Despite her expression being completely invisible, she was looking at me with quite uncomfortable gaze. This is a masterpiece that captures the strange moment between these two prostitutes in that split second. It was. Mif is in love with the women's implicitly sharp nerves, the shamefully shameful face they face, the two voluptuous bodies that have collapsed beyond imagination, and the undeniable desire that is still wet and squishy in between. enjoyed it Miep's thoughts finally reached the strong drink that Toulouse drank to the point of intoxication while he was painting. I thought I had fully appreciated the painting after remembering the painters' solo liquor, the very colored liquor that was said to have the effect of making the world shine with colorful fireworks. Now, Miep was going to buy a can of beer on her way back and drink it before she got home, and she was going to start masturbating as soon as she got home. He imagined turning the women on the sofa one by one and massaging them as much as he wanted. Miep felt that the woman who had nowhere to fall was cozy and comfortable. They had a corner where they embraced and protected Miep's impulsive violence. Not only is their sagging belly fat less interesting to hit, but there is no reason to hit them with their fists, nor any additional effort, as they let out a ritualistic moan as if they are keen at the moment of digging into the already flaccid flesh. I didn't want to give it as a bonus either. When Mif's stress was at its peak and the reality he was facing felt the darkest, he looked for a picture called 'Sofa'. There was the most profound consolation of human life that only Toulouse-Lautrec could provide. The unique softness of the gloomy, bending bottom is safety. Mif couldn't believe that he could enjoy such high-quality comfort every day at such an affordable price. Even today, he only paid an amount that was less than a dollar in the form of a donation upon entering. If he wanted, he could add a small amount to become a loyal member and come and go as much as he pleased, whenever he wanted. Miep felt a desire to create her own profound world and delve deeper into works of art that transcend time and time. As far as he knew, he wanted to rearrange and collect things in his own way, using the art museum as a personal storage facility. He was driven by a desire to systematically exercise some transcendent and secret possession that amounted to a daily walk through the nearby park as if it were his own private garden. Miep left behind the sense of relief he felt and walked out of the museum, trying not to forget the moment of shallow excitement he had seen. And at that very moment, Miff lost what little sense of support he had managed to hold on to. The girl he expected to meet at some point, but the girl he prayed and prayed he would never meet, was standing proudly right in front of him. She wasn't avoiding him, and somehow she thought she was walking straight in front of him. When Miep finally realized that her eyes were looking at him, he was finally unable to think of anything. She always was like that. Miep felt as if she was under a spell that turned her into stone when she stood in front of her. She was one of those very scary women who didn't get surprised no matter what Miff did. Miep was the second woman like that in her life. One of them was Miep's mother, and the other was none other than Benica. It was her. ​