He fought a lot in school, they called him a bastard, like the cliché goes, the kids and teachers always find that shit out, & everybody finds a way to torture you about it. Jerzy fought hard, but all he learned was, when you fought you lost. Never a correlation between fighting & winning/only fighting & defeat & humiliation. That’s what he learned. At least they didn’t call him bastard in New York, everybody was probably a bastard, even though he became a rechristened bastard because MoMA forgot to marry Ronny the DP — Ronny Vomes. “Vomes”—what an assholish moniker. . MoMA used Crelle-Vomes as her “professional name,” but never married either one of them. What a load. So now he was a bastard two times over, and his baby sister was a bitch.
After MoMA and the DP broke up, they moved to Brooklyn. Ronny was still in their lives, being Jerilynn’s real father & Jerzy’s fake one. Sometimes Jerzy worked on the camera crew like his mother once did, that’s how he got an aptitude, even fantasized about getting into the union. Jerzy went to Baja on a shoot & Ronny fired him for not showing up on the 1st day of principal photography. Those were (the beginning of) the Heroin Years, now he was in the (middle of the?) Tweak Years (still mix ’n matched with H), Jerzy’d always been way into both but now he was super-grateful into the joyful, joyous 
SLAM Days & GBH/Xanax Nights.
He got loaded in Costa Rica, Belize, BC, Krakow, Colorado, Crete. Detoxed in UK, Rome, Colorado, Crete, Krakow, BC, the Cape. Returned to New York at 28, took all those years just to find his true calling, that of celebrity craphouse creep. A creeperazzo makes his own sked. Creeperazzi are independent contractors. But the very best part of being a Creeperazzo creeper is you have the wherewithal to do Rx all day long.
The Master Plan was to fuck with/edit down the Best of the Best of Jerzy’s vanilla creeperazzi & (still to cum) papsmearshots! then assemble them into a gallery show. Oh, that would righteously piss MoMA off! She might never recover from the blow! He’d call the exhibition Jerzy Shores—Harry would love that he used his nickname, he’d give him credit for his cleverness in the catalogue. Jerzy would show his work in LA as Jer-Z or Squeegee or Jeezy, or maybe he’d use all three just to confuse people. He was going to shoot for the top—he wanted to be repped by the Gagosian. He wanted to be the 1st (& last) one on the block to legitimize/commodify/artworld-monetize the moneyshots. Jerzy’d done a bit of late-night tweakstudying about the Gagosian on the web, they had a client that took pics of Lindsay, Sasha Grey, & whomever — made short shitty videos of them too — real dumbass shit — Jerzy thought no way could the guy compete with him. Another Gagosian guy named Richard Prince did paintings of nurses & stenciled jokes that went for millions—& Jerzy was convinced that the reason it went for millions was because the guy was Number Uno, he must have been the 1st to be totally serious about making a nurse-and-stenciled-joke painting — or if somebody else had, then this guy’s paintings of nurses & stenciled jokes were the 1st breakthrough nurse-and-tell-an-actual-joke paintings, that’s all you needed, it was all about breakthrough, maybe the other guys who did that kind of painting — paintings of nurses and whole jokes — maybe the other guys blew it because they used the wrong jokes, knock-knock jokes or whatever with doctors instead of nurses… but Jerzy thought: more power to him, more power to this guy Richard Prince and to Larry Gagosian — Larry Gagosian was King — all he (Jerzy) had to do was have that breakthrough, be the 1st, or the 1st breakthrough anyway, like Jean-Michel Basketcase was with graffiti, or Arbus & her freakshow folk——no one (so far) (to his knowledge) had thought to hang their altered/fucked with/edited papsmeary vulturazzo creepshots in a major gallery of art (tho it must be said that Jerzy didn’t really do a thorough internet search of it because he didn’t want to come across someone who had already done or was just about to do the very same thing that was his Gagosian Dream) but it was a fairly safe bet that no one had. Certainly none of Jerzy’s esteemed colleagues could in their pathetic minds even come close to imagining such a thing. The collective Smarmy Army brain was unfathomably clueless & ill-developed in the realm of this degree of sophistication. How could any of them even know about or understand the genius and the cultural force Larry Gagosian, who was King?
He’d spent a lot of time in galleries, afterall MoMA made her splashy little sensations when he was just turning 18, right around the time she was ab-/using his baby ½sis who he loved, Jerilynn, whom he always had protected from harm but had failed to against the MoMA machinations. These days mother and son were estranged, but big brother and little sister IM’d, little sis told big bro MoMA was getting desperate, which gave him a kind of wicked pleasure, and while big bro did not tell little sis his Master Plan, little sis did know that big bro was a creeperazzo but big bro distinctly told little sis not to tell MoMA that’s what he did for a living, he didn’t want that bitch anywhere near knowing how he was paying the rent (MoMA did know — just how, he forgot — that her son wasn’t on the East Coast, & was living somewhere in LA), he wanted her to know as little about him as pah-see-blay. What he prayed for was for MoMA to wake up one LA chelsea morning to see that her son’s creepshots! had been declared A R T — she could come to Gagosian’s with everybody else & kiss the ring, the ring of my hem’rrhoided shithole.
. .
Three tweaking tweeters said Michael Douglas was at Sur. With who? he twittered back from his twat. Did not rec was the teetering reply. Did not recognize. Meaning it was probably an agent, manager, lawyer, whoever, though J’s twitshit troops should be able to recog even them.