Zeno
05-25-2005, 02:17 AM
‘That’s Beverly Hills City Hall’, said Andy. I looked up at the Holy of Holies with meek anticipation and was presently surprised by the shinning and galling pretension oozing from every stone in the building, from the monolithic base to the mosaic and gold crown of the dome. Chauffeured down the straight grand canals of pavement along the shaky floor of the Los Angles Basin, I was enjoying this gothic tour. With Rick’s gurgling and lurching babble from the backseat a perfect background noise to the scenery, Andy interjects with quick bits of information calculated to baffle and cow the uninitiated backwoods gnome loathsomely taking up space in his offensively nice car. I think that’s what happened anyway, old men have quickly fading memories.
We meant Dude at Dodger Stadium and enjoyed the afternoon game along with beer and munchies and ice cream and talk and talk and exchange of ideas ranging from A to B and from X to Z. Perhaps there was some 2 + 2 in there also.
During the game some fan tumbled out of the stands and rumbled into left field, only to be corralled and cuffed by the efficient security forces, all to the shouts and claps of the deranged fans. Us four doing the loudest cheering. I think. It was hot and the heat may have caused neuron misfiring in my beer soaked brain.
Previous in time to the narrative just thrust upon my readers in such a blatant fashion, I spent a full day crawling about the Getty Museum of Natural Money. It cost only seven dollars for parking. No other entrance fees were asked of me. This monument to conspicuous capitalism occupies a hillock close to everything, the ocean, freeways, smog, gardens, and views of east, west, south and this and that and cacti and the whitish stone architecture of the buildings themselves (the outside stone is travertine, in case anyone is interested).
Inside the buildings art was flung about, it hung on the walls, it occupied floor space, it loomed on pedestals, it blocked hallways and generally created a nuisance to anyone trying to navigate though the interior. I would think that art could be employed for something more useful, but apparently no one has come up with anything better to do with this stuff. Since this brutal and incoherent form of art presentation blocked my pathway and eyesight, I was forced to look at it. Some of it was square looking and some of it was rectangular and some was round and lumpy and some was shinning and some was colorful but in a mundane and uninteresting sort of way. There was some furniture in the buildings also but usually behind ropes so you couldn’t sit on or touch anything – how very odd. When I finished going about the place, I ate some food and saw some flowers and also a few sickly birds fluttered about, looking for a place to die I suppose, and then I left.
What would you expect for seven dollars anyway?
-Zeno
Part 2 tomorrow.
We meant Dude at Dodger Stadium and enjoyed the afternoon game along with beer and munchies and ice cream and talk and talk and exchange of ideas ranging from A to B and from X to Z. Perhaps there was some 2 + 2 in there also.
During the game some fan tumbled out of the stands and rumbled into left field, only to be corralled and cuffed by the efficient security forces, all to the shouts and claps of the deranged fans. Us four doing the loudest cheering. I think. It was hot and the heat may have caused neuron misfiring in my beer soaked brain.
Previous in time to the narrative just thrust upon my readers in such a blatant fashion, I spent a full day crawling about the Getty Museum of Natural Money. It cost only seven dollars for parking. No other entrance fees were asked of me. This monument to conspicuous capitalism occupies a hillock close to everything, the ocean, freeways, smog, gardens, and views of east, west, south and this and that and cacti and the whitish stone architecture of the buildings themselves (the outside stone is travertine, in case anyone is interested).
Inside the buildings art was flung about, it hung on the walls, it occupied floor space, it loomed on pedestals, it blocked hallways and generally created a nuisance to anyone trying to navigate though the interior. I would think that art could be employed for something more useful, but apparently no one has come up with anything better to do with this stuff. Since this brutal and incoherent form of art presentation blocked my pathway and eyesight, I was forced to look at it. Some of it was square looking and some of it was rectangular and some was round and lumpy and some was shinning and some was colorful but in a mundane and uninteresting sort of way. There was some furniture in the buildings also but usually behind ropes so you couldn’t sit on or touch anything – how very odd. When I finished going about the place, I ate some food and saw some flowers and also a few sickly birds fluttered about, looking for a place to die I suppose, and then I left.
What would you expect for seven dollars anyway?
-Zeno
Part 2 tomorrow.