November 03, 2008


Lets start here:

The bitch end of jetlag means I lie awake for about two hours wondering what time it is and waiting for it to get light. I think about Pat Buchanan on CSPAN the other day, on booktalk, saying how he gets up and does all his writing in the pre-dawn. I'm not sanguine enough to write until at least 9 am CST. I am no Pat Buchanan though that might be fun for a day or two.

Before that:
The morning I got back I was awoken by freeway hum a mile a way. I got up and stood by the fridge. I tippied up to the microwave thinking maybe it was that. I went to the porch and deduced that I had slept all the way until Monday and everyone was going to work or maybe a national emergency and everyone was fleeing because there is no way cars should be that loud from so far away. Not hearing that whooshing for two-plus weeks was like I had never heard it. Berlin is squirrelless and library quiet, save for the wetted leaves getting crunched and the occasional diesel purr. America is filled with impatient people yelling and car rumble and 20000000 kinds of energy bars and it no longer makes sense to me. The capitalist tyranny of choice and the art/everything/everyone that ignores and co-signs on it is undignified and dehumanizing. No wonder the rest of the world thinks we're one long re-run of Hee Haw.

BARR played the Upset The Rhythm! nite in London. Brendan was there for the big art fair and was telling the audience that the art market bubble had officially burst. BARR enthusiasts in London were backpacked spazzy dancers half drunk and knowing all the words, I do not think they cared about the art market. The capital seeping out from art world only serves arts purpose, anyhow. At least Damien Hirst won't have to pay so much when he covertly buys his own artwork now. Also in secrets news: Brendan supposedly got married yesterday to his lovely girlfriend. They have the same cars, almost the same clean-cut skate rat haircut and are the same tall. Twins!

This message or similar was painted on every wall of the club where the UTR show was. I think this should be painted everywhere. Even the bus. The entire earth needs to be quieter.

What tour looked like. Sads @ ICA in London. I was in the museum like 8-10 hours a day for two days and never saw anything but the bathroom, gift shop and the theatre. We were finally leaving and I happened to notice Buckingham Palace was about a block away. Essence of tour.

Cali blog-pic'ing Sam McPheeters as Sam was telling a story about shitting on stage at a Velocity Girl show during his reading at the grotto next to the gas station which sells Health Foods. Oh, California.

A month an a day ago, I re-arrived in LA and went to the Smell to report on a story, except I slept through most of the show, until No Age. I might as well start carrying around a cut glass dish of Werthers Originals with me everywhere because I am a total grandma if I can sleep soundly while the Urinals play 30 feet away. I am an ancient hundred if I am a day.

Alleywalking with Kate circa mid-Sept. We made a pact that night. I did not keep my end of it. I miss my friends but I am scared of the snow thats probs happening back in the Chi-boogie.

Craig digging for a lost item in Greenpoint. We are working on a project, but that is still a secret for now. Not to not junx it, but just' cos it's slow going.

Posted by jessica hopper at November 3, 2008 09:41 AM | TrackBack