Bergamot Saturday

Saturday night at Bergamot Station presented more than the usual odd and interesting character art gallery crawlers, hipsters and sophists. The gallery exhibits were unsurpassed that night with more superb opening reception shows than usual. There might commonly be just one or two good show artists in an evening, but last night was extraordinary. And one of the largest crowds I’d ever seen. All ages, genders, gender-benders, metros, walks of life and eminent death defying parking feats.

Wine but no cheese was flowing freely. Met my one professional dedicated gallery crawler Mike, who chatted me up to no end. Loralie and Mille are regulars who dress conservatively enough to assume they’re together when they’re actually way out there. Joe the 83 year old schnoorer who can barely walk with his arthritis and Pete who has a hard time holding up his plastic wine cup as he suffers from Parkinson's. But the creme de la creme is the Puppet lady who never travels alone. She always has an authentic puppet that seems too realistic with properly engineered strings in tow to whom she usually chats with and introduces to people as her companion. Last night she had a dog with a flashing rhinestone collar who looked so real many cutesy voiced girls attempted to to pet him or it and became embarrassed when they realized the dog was a puppet.

The last exhibit to open that night was sponsored by the LA-WEEKLY, Los Angeles’ money cool underground left wing weekly rag that digs deep into the more than main stream LA events. They even have a Pulitzer prize winning food critic on board. Their sponsored exhibit was wild. Several neat artists including an unusually disgusting performance art exhibition where a fat old naked man only wearing a makeshift crown was sitting on a ratty old stuffed chair while being painted by an artist who was running on a treadmill at the same time. Yikes!

Quite an unappetizing sight to see which we all could have done without. Yes, there were many young and mature women who seemed embarrassed by the naked man in the center of hundreds of art gallery goers. They were not embarrassed for reasons of modesty of viewing a strange fat man’s nudity, but rather by the way one feels embarrassed for someone else who seems to be making a fool out of themselves.

Met a few interesting faces. A group of three girl friends and one with an especially most exotic look. Like a cross between Angelica Houston and Shelly DuValle.

After enough wine and being burnt out on people watching but not art viewing it was time to head home where I stopped at my favorite rotisserie chicken eat-in and take-away home style spot. California Chicken Cafe on Wilshire in Santa Monica. But it was late for an old geezer like myself so I ate just enough to taste the silky soft meat surrounded by the crisp seasoned sumptuous skin. Its OK I’m on Lipitor.

Cool night. Today on the other hand was hot in the mid seventies. And we’re on the middle of January. I Won’t waste your time on my boring chore filled day.

So Ciao for now and have a great week.