A few good days

Enjoyed lunch with the Bees, my friends from Westlake village, on Thursday. We met half way in the west valley at our favorite Indian buffet restaurant, Shalimar where their speciality is mulligatawny soup, saffron rice which mixes well with the paprika bright red tandoori chicken, hunter green creamed spinach, yellow curried hard boiled eggs chick peas with green peas and white potatoes. All courses followed by sweetened rice pudding with cinnamon and raisins. Mmmmm.

Fatboy was supposed to be there too but couldn’t join us for lunch. His grandpa passed on last week so he took off for the cold middle west to pay his respects. My condolences to he and his family.

David and I made our travel arrangements Friday for my to visit to see him and his family, including my new grandson, for a long weekend in Feb. It will be good to see his wife Tami, the new Benji, the old twins Grace and Hannah and of course sis Keri and maybe even Tom and Suzanne. Who knows what other surprises may bring.

Was feeling a bit blue Saturday as I was anticipating my usual venture out to visit Bergamot station art galleries where only a few opening receptions were scheduled that evening. Got itchy so I left my flat earlier than usual, got a good parking spot and saw the old regular gallery crawlers wandering around as well waiting for the wine bar to open.

Met Mike first. He’s the king schnoorer. Knows of every free-be event in town. He chatted me up as usual asking for writing tips he’ll ever use. Maybe I’m uncomfortable around him because he’s a mirror of the other world to me in some ways. I’ve been schnooring and not putting in the writing time required myself.

The best art exhibit of the evening was actually pretty cool with original classic and newly rendered reproductions of ancient album covers of various music genres. Maybe that’s way it attracted so many musicians and wannabes. The wide variety of costumes were pretty darn cool looking. Traditional conservs, GBers, Goths, PP and mad hatters.

Wanted to get into the swing of things by looking like the artist I’m not. Dressed more like an artist hipster than a hipster artist with my Chinese Mao cap, cargo pants, striped sweater and jean vest I didn’t even stand out in the circus dressed crowd.

Told people I was a writer and blogger which is one and one-half percent true. Had a couple of cocktails so I read the palms of a few beautiful women. One was a makeup artist who was “in” with the several musician celebrities whose names escape me.

She introduced me to a rock band like looking man named Billy who was dressed as if he were about to go on stage and perform in front of a hundred thousand people. He wore a feathered watch cap type hat, a long two pointed reddish blond beard. We chatted for about ten minutes. Then suddenly the gallery exploded with gawkers and the crowd gyrated straight to Billy asking for hugs kisses and autographs.

I guess I’m not as hip as I thought. Billy turned out to be Billy Gibbens of ZZ Top.Real nice fellow with a pleasant soft voice and welcoming personality. Cool cat, man. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gRYy4OBEvHE

Sunday morning was a typical trip to Peets sipping, eating and reading. Mmmmm good. Got bored and a bit unsettled while listening to two very young beautiful mothers talking about a house one them just purchased at a bargain price of under three mm. Guess I became envious. I left and went to the local farmers market down the road in Brentwood. Not as cool as the one on Main & OP but I was too lazy to head down to the beach and wanted some bread and tasty fruits mixed in with a true hip crowd of locals. Lots of kids and a few farm animal too.

Did some laundry and food marketing. Had a good but too large dinner at home for a change and was grazing for hours. It felt good but I had way too much.

Today is MLK birthday with all sorts of tribute events around town. There’s one in Santa Monica so I’ll be attending in a couple of hours.

Ciao for now

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 !

 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 on 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.

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.

Elle

It was a dark and foggy night in Santa Monica when I reluctantly headed to Bergamot Station to attend a handful of gallery opening receptions which are usually interesting if not fun.

Although I do enjoy the cooler weather much more than the heat waving we've experienced with global warming paving the way, the new fog was hazing up my vision and thinking.

The first gallery opening I attended was at the Schoenberg gallery, one of my favorites. I like going up the spiral staircase to the small, quaint and intimate gallery with a balcony view and open doors to the roof of the other building when the weather is so hot cross ventilation is required. Two artists were showing their colorful works. Neat.

Went across the walkway parking lot to another gallery where photographs were displayed. Wasn't as cool as Schoenberg's so I left and unexpectedly bumped into Elle. We've known and bumped into each other at various events for years. She's very intuitive and has a way of lifting my spirits. We talked about different tribal events and the philosophy of higher learning of individual people and groups. Talked for a longer time than anticipated.

Stayed a while together and then parted waves as she directed me to an exhibit which was supporting human rights issues around the world.Stepped into the more elegant gallery setting and rubbed elbows with a higher society clientele than myself. I guess that means just about everybody else. Oh and there was a celebrity spotting. Ann Archer was a leading player in the charity cause and offered an inspiring speech. (Did I mention I spotted James Taylor the night before at Borders on Third Street signing his new CD. Cool man.)Nice variety of art, people and cocktails. Continued to rub elbows and surprisingly bumped into Judith a member of my new tribe. She's a poet and artist who seemed a bit distracted but wanted to get together a cup of coffee another time. Was she waiting for someone else as we chatted? Who knows. I'll see her next week.

Then there was Paul and Mike. Regulars who have interesting under the radar stories of their own I may share with you at a later time. Suddenly the night was more exiting and invigorating. I was given one more drink but decided against downing it as I'm a believer in not drinking and driving. So I passed it up and went to another gallery. By that time I was overwhlemed with art and left. Stopped to pick up some rotisserie chicken at California Chiken Cafe as I was chicken hungry and headed home.

Ate, read some blogs and tried to write a politiacal blog essay but was too worn out. Listened to Bill Maher on my ipod before my head met the pillow and slpt in on Sunday mroning for the first time a quite a while. Had a usual good Sunday on my bike, at NYB and Peets. Went a last minute reading at Dutton's on the subject of Virginia Woolfe. I knew she was smart, a feminist and great writer, but didn't knwo she committrd suicide. Downer.

Vacuumed, ate, drank and talked to dad. Just kicking back now as I finish this blog and getting ready for a little TV and late afternoon snacks. Will read some more blogs and head to dreamland.

Ciao my friends...