Tuesday, November 13, 2007
It has been a pleasant though uneventful week. Now, however, enough small things have happened that I feel like I should write or nothing big will ever happen again. Fiber!!
Firstly, this weekend Mauricio rediscovered a metrolink station that actually runs late on Saturday nights not far from our house. It may seem difficult to misplace a metro station, but it has an odd residential/industrial park/alley like entrance right in the middle of the train tracks, suspiciously disguised as though to prevent anyone from finding it. It cost a lot: 10.50 on a weekend and about 15.00 on a weekday, but with the price of gas and my disdain for driving it seemed worth it. Included in the price was the possibility of seeing one of the most interesting exchanges between two people ever. A bigger girl with a crew cut, whom I had assumed was a guy until I heard her answer the phone, sat next to us while we waited. She was sugar talking someone on her walkie-talkie cell when a gorgeous girl with pink braids and a security uniform bounced up to her and said “I know you don’t I?” I kept trying to figure out why her uniform was so ill fitting when she teased “have you ever been locked up?” The girl said no, but they were both so happy about it that it seemed odd. Suddenly I realize that the security uniform was probably some kind of stripper costume, hence it’s weird seams and overly large and generic badge. At that moment they boarded to a different car and I suddenly felt left out from this whole train riding stripper world.
So we took the metro to Union Station. I love riding the train. We rode the train a lot when I was a kid and I think something about just grew into my bones. When I work late at night I sometimes hear the same train coming through Pomona that my family used ride every summer . Its whistle seems so significant, as though the sound itself materializes the dark moving mass of beginnings and endings on which you can barely sleep for the company of your own life. Someday I would really like to get the Amtrak pass and head around the states before train travel is phased out altogether.
I swear I played with this thing in the late 80's.
Firstly, this weekend Mauricio rediscovered a metrolink station that actually runs late on Saturday nights not far from our house. It may seem difficult to misplace a metro station, but it has an odd residential/industrial park/alley like entrance right in the middle of the train tracks, suspiciously disguised as though to prevent anyone from finding it. It cost a lot: 10.50 on a weekend and about 15.00 on a weekday, but with the price of gas and my disdain for driving it seemed worth it. Included in the price was the possibility of seeing one of the most interesting exchanges between two people ever. A bigger girl with a crew cut, whom I had assumed was a guy until I heard her answer the phone, sat next to us while we waited. She was sugar talking someone on her walkie-talkie cell when a gorgeous girl with pink braids and a security uniform bounced up to her and said “I know you don’t I?” I kept trying to figure out why her uniform was so ill fitting when she teased “have you ever been locked up?” The girl said no, but they were both so happy about it that it seemed odd. Suddenly I realize that the security uniform was probably some kind of stripper costume, hence it’s weird seams and overly large and generic badge. At that moment they boarded to a different car and I suddenly felt left out from this whole train riding stripper world.
So we took the metro to Union Station. I love riding the train. We rode the train a lot when I was a kid and I think something about just grew into my bones. When I work late at night I sometimes hear the same train coming through Pomona that my family used ride every summer . Its whistle seems so significant, as though the sound itself materializes the dark moving mass of beginnings and endings on which you can barely sleep for the company of your own life. Someday I would really like to get the Amtrak pass and head around the states before train travel is phased out altogether.
I swear I played with this thing in the late 80's.
When we got to Union Station I was starving, so instead of jumping to the gold line we ran across the street to Plaza Olvera. The Plaza was all set up for a slick televised concert sort of thing: the stage was fancy, there were huge tv cranes and lights were flashing. Only the a dj was on, but at that volume, and with the lights, it actually felt very festive. What made Mauricio most excited, however, was the cafe on the corner that had champurrado (a cornflour drink with cinnamon and sugar). While we waited in line I ran into a guy I recognized from the midnight ride we took two weeks ago. I thought maybe he was riding downtown again, but he explained they were riding, on bike, to San Diego that night. He was following a guy who's bike was one step up from a fixed gear. I wonder if they had many hills? I wish we could have gone.
We walked from downtown to Chinatown with our champurrado warm stomachs. There, I promptly ruined that good feeling by drinking beer. The brew somehow mixed with the cornflour and then rose in my stomach. Logical right? Like a recipe for bread or something.
Up at Abacott gallery (in Chinatown) is the work of my two old roommates Eric Nyquist and Mike Mattheson. It was nice to see both them and their paintings. I do miss having hard working artists around to motivate me.
Here is a nice pic of them- though their work is pretty to.
Up at Abacott gallery (in Chinatown) is the work of my two old roommates Eric Nyquist and Mike Mattheson. It was nice to see both them and their paintings. I do miss having hard working artists around to motivate me.
Here is a nice pic of them- though their work is pretty to.
We missed our train and ended up spending a good chunk of the night watching the concert. I was into the music of Calle 13- but when he rapped (poorly, I thought) about girls and his sausage sandwich I walked back inside the station in protest. To put salt in my wound, once inside, I started reading the newest Rolling Stone anniversary issue themed "where we're going" based on longer interviews with the visionaries of today. Only 3 of the 25 visionaries were female. Are we really that shortsighted as women? Because the blatant inequity of the it made me wonder if it is not the other way around. Until our 11:30 train came it was just us, a few sleeping guys and the man who polishes those endless shiny floors of Union Station. He really was a powerhouse, more entertaining to watch than calle 13, especially when he nimbly lifted up the feet of those to inebriated to lift theirs themselves.
I have been on an exercise kick, started by our 60 year old landlady who is kind enough to, somewhat forcefully, teach us her calisthenics routine every Saturday. So Sunday night we rode our bikes to the bookstore that is across from Maurico's bus stop, to which he rides every morning. I think Mauricio was excited to show me the boat house on the route. I will have to put a picture since it is hard to explain, but basically there is a large boat on top of a house, with a seperate part towering into a faux lighthouse; all very theatrical. This morning I accompanied him again so I could see it in the daylight. I was coasting back when I saw a man entering seven eleven, counting a wad of money, wearing an un-buttoned plaid flannel that revealed an entire set of keys hanging from his pierced nipple!!! I felt like it was shiny reward for having exercised.
As far as art work… This weekend I am headed to San Francisco to work on collaborations with Brian Rush and Zachary Rossaman for the show in February at GR2. I am really excited about them.
I have been on an exercise kick, started by our 60 year old landlady who is kind enough to, somewhat forcefully, teach us her calisthenics routine every Saturday. So Sunday night we rode our bikes to the bookstore that is across from Maurico's bus stop, to which he rides every morning. I think Mauricio was excited to show me the boat house on the route. I will have to put a picture since it is hard to explain, but basically there is a large boat on top of a house, with a seperate part towering into a faux lighthouse; all very theatrical. This morning I accompanied him again so I could see it in the daylight. I was coasting back when I saw a man entering seven eleven, counting a wad of money, wearing an un-buttoned plaid flannel that revealed an entire set of keys hanging from his pierced nipple!!! I felt like it was shiny reward for having exercised.
As far as art work… This weekend I am headed to San Francisco to work on collaborations with Brian Rush and Zachary Rossaman for the show in February at GR2. I am really excited about them.
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