Monday, August 5, 2013

Dear Bruckner,

It's true I don't know if I copyrighted any of this, but you better give us some hefty checks whenever you make good on fame and stardom. Or treat us to lunch at the Ivy in some fitfully ironic turn of fate. We'll grimly order whatever we want. It will however, be delicious. You'll have the generous demeanor of a shoe baron sitting at court. I will not feed you grapes, but look at you wryly across the table plotting revenge in a startling loss of faith. That will be your next greatest work. Time, then will rip past and i'll have died. But you'll still go on occasion to sit there and drink wine and think of us and the blog and the time when the words just one day stopped or Bl/gSp/t closed for business or it all changed- but it was something possibly insignificant seeming but earthshattering all the same. By then you'll be legend. It will be your one dark day that will be little discussed but cryptically referred to by your biographer. There will be rumors and we will merely be a small and obscure footnote on your lengthy wikipage.

How far we wandered from that place. When we sat there- I think I had ravioli. A rockstar passed with his baby in a stroller. We went to the LaBrea Tarpits. We climbed that Hollywood Hill, literally and pondered and walked way past the batman cave entrance.

And today? I had a typically LA. LA lunch off Franklin across from the sci-ti celebritycentre. The server came out and said my friend's hair was glowing and radiating like the sun. A guy came to sit near us with his greyhound rescue. The bartender having heard my friend only wanted 1 shot in her bloodymary thought it was "adorable" and then came outside to hit on her and give her a t-shirt because she was a fellow traveler and though he was American, spoke with a convoluted british accent. When I told the manager I was sad not to have a tshirt she said, I didn't get one because she could tell I was a local. Or she confused me with someone who went there a lot or had in fact remembered that I frequented the place a lot-- 8 years ago. 2 girls walked by us with no bras on, and i'm sure someone famous and not clean shaven walked by. My friend said, it is totally different than SF isn't it. I said oh, yes. It is.

I went back to church to get more organic fair-trade coffee and talk about God.

But besides that, what else.

My mom moved out.




 

3 comments:

bruckner said...

I like what was written here.

That reminds me, the other night I went to this girl's apartment and she had potraits which she had painted all over the place. I didn't even know she painted! Anyway, I really, really want her to paint me! But I'm afraid of coming off as narcissistic. Is there any tactful way of asking her to do this? I've never thought of being captured on canvas before but after seeing all those other faces...

And yes, she is far inferior to you as an artist. Had I been invited into your house I'm sure I would've been struck by the same impulse!

m said...

no no just say you're a narcissist and you really want a painting like the shoe baron that you are. i'd do it. I want one too. also portraits take mad skill and focus so I don't know if I could. maybe with a decade more of practice. possible'.

sempre fi.

bruckner said...

You're right. Why beat around the bush? I will request that she paint me. And I will do so with a heavy emphasis on my vanity.