The Problem Perspective

The times they are a'changing, they say. I don't have a bed to lay my head (mostly), and, you know, life in the Tempeasy is overwrought with history and drama--slightly Shakespearian, one might posit. I think, partially, and partially I think the problem is that the world is (still) made out of people. They get in the way of making so often, and then, when one finds another maker to talk to, they're just as sick of people and fucked up as you are, which, obviously, is both why you want to talk to them and why you are frustrated by them. Me--I want them to understand. 

Which is to say (except for the part where it isn't to say because I'm actually now changing the subject), last weekend I went to Austin for a barista competition. I didn't win, but I slept next to a fat naked man on a sleepnumber bed (mine's 45) and walked around much, much less than I would have ever found acceptable in such a beautifully-climate-controlled city. I don't know if you've ever been there, but I've got Austin's number: If Tucson and Portland had sex, their beautiful arty baby would be Austin. It ended up being a pretty exhausting, emotional trip. A barista competition sounds like as good of an idea as it is. It's Best in Show, but with the freak-hippies who dropped out of the ceramics program at StateU their sophomore year to work full-time in the Industry competing. I made it home safe & in time to vote for our new president, which is the first time I've successfully cast my vote for the person who's won. 

This weekend I'm in LA visiting Adam. We see eachother much less than is even remotely acceptable, but, you know, when you're young & starting out and don't have trustfunds like you should, you gotta be a worker and climb up the trash heap. We're both doing that right now. Seeing a real, true friend that knows all my bad & meanness and still loves me feels very deep. It also feels light. We hit MOCA out here yesterday and had so much fun seeing the Martin Kippenberger perspective. He's what you would do if you were an MFA trustfund asshole. Or, at least, Adam and I agree it's what we'd do. Louise Bourgeois was rollin' hard there, too, and possibly took the show. It was great. Also, we ate brunch with good old Curdbird and it felt like the best days of Kilnemia practice all over again. I miss that guy, and I miss his laugh, and I wish I saw him more, too. What's that they say? It's like being in a marriage when you're in a band. I'm leaving this morning, and going back to the dramarama in the old 'hood and catching up on all the gossip at Melrose Place (where I live), which should be interesting, because I suspect it's about me this week.