what does one do when one has, dare i say, too much time?
do what i do.
go and overdose on an exorbitant amount of culture. so much culture, in fact, that when you're done, you'll be licking your wounds from all the lashings of all things artistically inclined.
for a flickering moment in time, you'll be able to singlehandedly differentiate between a magritte, monet, manet, bauhaus, boticelli, beuys, warhol, wagenfeld, corbusier, cornell, pollock and parkeharrison.
you'll obtain the magical ability to discuss pomo and prefab like it was boho and sealab.
...and that's how i feel right now.
sitting at the cafe in the middle of the lacma on a blustery, gloomy LA day.
unfortunately, i brought the gloom and cold with me from new york and though all the los angelesians (i know that's not correct - stop judging me) are really happy about all this "crisp" weather...well, i just feel like i haven't left new york.
well, aside from having to drive everywhere...and palm trees.
while everyone happily dons their autumnal jackets and neck scarves, i'm unhappily donning my trench coat and wearing a dress as a flag of protest (denial).
"it's not cold. i'm in LA."
nonetheless, my evenings have been spent shivering and cursing myself for leaving my pashmina in the car.
...but, yes, back to the subject at hand.
art.
vive l'arte, mes amis.
it's a wonderful thing.
i feel absolutely magical sitting here, enjoying all of this.
cut to the next day...
never spend more than 2.5 hours at a museum when it's cold and raining...and where most of the buildings are spread around a vast plane like a few croutons in a thickly vegetated salad.
my post started positively enough, but after poking through every floor and every piece...sometimes twice...after perusing the gift shop...sitting at their outdoor cafe....then their indoor cafe...i realized that one can only stare at a le corbusier chair for so long before going cross-eyed.
i was inspired. don't get me wrong...but i was so exhausted from plodding along the many miles of floor space that after a while everything turned to a bauhausian blur.
cut to the following day...
i tried to cure the exhaustion with dollar tacos with my paramour last night, but i have to say that even today i'm feeling rundown in the brain pack.
what i really want is to curl up in bed and sleep all day until my flight leaves...
but, alas, this is not the case.
...but we do what we can, eh?
we spend time with those we care about if only to watch them run in and out of rooms, pack boxes, drum beats on their legs with expectant hands and go about their daily work.
i suppose, in a lot of ways, there's something comforting about watching a significant other do these sorts of things.
i mean, one has to sit and contemplate their other half and what they are made of.
how they use packing tape.
how they coil cables.
what snacks they eat when moving heavy objects.
the importance they hold in carrot juice.
these are, ultimately, the charming little idiosyncrasies that let us sit back and admire people as a whole.
in the meantime, i've been keeping myself busy perusing all the things i've been meaning to peruse. apartments for sale, technology deals, friends' status updates.
this trip to la has been lovely, dear readers. (despite the, now, hard rain and undeniable chill in the air).
it's been nice to not have to go to work...not have to sketch (i know, i know...i'll start that again. don't you worry your pretty little head)...not have to really answer to anyone.
...to wake up to a slumbering paramour.
good night kisses and good morning nuzzles.
i've been able to relax a little bit...which is not my natural state.
it's as if gravity just ceased to exist for a few days.
like the electrons of my mind were finally able to stretch out and stop spinning.
cut to the following morning...
there was a moment during this trip...
the second day i was here...
still new, but not disorienting...
still so many days left to enjoy...
driving down the road, watching palm trees lazily sway in the breeze.
the skies were blue, the sun was warm.
i had just seen my dear friend, dan, and my paramour and i were holding hands and driving back to the apartment so he could fetch his glasses.
...and this feeling washed over me like a saturday sprinkler on a hot summer morning with the promise of a day of swimming and ice pops from my childhood.
it was immense and overwhelming.
what i realized was that i was happy.
that's right, mes amis.
i . was . happy .
...and now i sit in the afterglow of it all.
touching down at the airport this morning, after rubbing the sleep from my eyes, i was overrun by an intense sense of loss.
i wandered the airport in search of a quiet spot to cry, but never found one.
instead, i wobbled down to baggage claim, retrieved my luggage and found my shuttle.
on the ride, i got to listen to a man who looked disturbingly like a ken doll go on about how new york city was one of the greatest cities ever to some israeli tourists.
then he told an australian couple that they had to check out the chrysler building and the guggenheim because frank lloyd wright was such a great architect.
so, my emotions were momentarily squashed by the banter of this los angeles manhattan lover.
moments passed.
i found myself in front of my office, bags in tow, and took a stroll to the local coffee shoppe.
they put in my usual latte and i took it with great expectation.
alas, the latte was subpar in comparison to the lattes i had sipped all during my stay in la.
i stood by the office doorway, cigarette in hand, and shivered as the autumnal winds swept by.
i was alone again.
...and it's not like it was a foreign feeling...
just one i hadn't felt in 5 days.
...one i had almost forgotten about.
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