on the theme of going to art-galleries, go see my friend krysten’s show opening this saturday at rental gallery in chinatown (in LOS ANGELES).
RENTAL GALLERY – 936 MEI LING WAY – CHINATOWN, LOS ANGELES, CA 90012
i guess there should be a contest here too. if you find her, take a picture with her, and you will get a special xiu prize at the ECHO show.
we went and got massages today. i am not used to getting massages so i don’t know if it was good or not. it felt good, i guess. i told her i had a sore muscle in my lower back, and she found the tense spot with her finger and said, “yep, you have a sore muscle – you should do stretches.” i thought she was going to rub it or something, but i guess not. she did something funny with my feet which was weird, so i guess the whole thing was worth it because of that. after, i felt practically the same except i was a little more relaxed and a little oily. i remember i did get a massage a long time ago and the person said, “jeaze, you have no stress at all.” maybe that’s it. since i don’t get stressed, because getting stressed is not worth it and in the end you have total control over whether you get stressed or not, then i can’t really feel better – just good at the moment. (but what about my sore lower left back muscle?) but what i really wanted to write was that when she was massaging me i started to think of a story my friend had told me when he went to a certain kind of “massage parlor” to get a certain kind of “massage.” he said the lady didn’t straight off offer any sexual services because that is illegal, so he had to make the suggestion, but he didn’t know, so they just kind of waited and awkwardly looked at each other for a long time trying to figure out what to do. she finally ripped his towel off, and he was feeling really awkward so he wasn’t even erect, and she looked down at his penis and said, “pathetic little thing, get out.” when i started thinking about this i wanted to start laughing hysterically. i wanted to laugh so hard it was almost impossible to resist. i thought it must be pretty taboo to just start laughing while getting a massage, like laughing at a funeral or when you are having sex. so what i did was i tried to imagine the must depressing situation possible to get me down instead of staying on the verge of laughing. i thought of my dad. i thought of him homeless on skid-row, totally crazy, disheveled, talking to himself or to people not listening, wanting to die (he is not like this, i don’t think, though he could very well be). i thought of my friends and the people who i care about, i thought about them dead, or about them on the verge of death – all so i wouldn’t start laughing. this was a really absurd moment. i once had this strange realization that all the people you know, all the people you care about, one day it will either be you or them that will look at the other as just a body — as something lifeless – as something that once looked back at you. this isn’t necessarily a negative thought, it’s just life i guess. sometimes at the place in-between sleeping and waking consciousness, when you are in the floating state with your mind drifting around the room, i think about death. i think about how it is nothing – not even nothing – just complete absence (nihil?). but not even absence, only absence for others, but for you it is non-existent. i think about how strange it is, and how strange it is to be alive, thoughts that i don’t think about in waking life because the world is too busy spinning around with its inconsequentiality’s and nonsense. it doesn’t make me more happy that i’m alive, it just seems to make things a little more ‘magical.’ and i guess you can draw on the word ‘absurd’ here. so it’s just, look around, strange. strange. strange. – sigh. what do you want out of life? i want to put my feet in the stars and my head on the top of a tree, i want to be upside down and i want to swallow the ocean, and if you are lost at sea i just ate you. you can be lost inside me and when i spit out the ocean you can be lost outside of me again because you are in the world not in me now. i forgot that girl’s name. the one in the hotel room in that book. that book is old and you are not young like you were, you are older, you are still the same but you are more sophisticated – does that mean sadness and joy and a boredom with the world (flaneur?) also becomes sophisticated with you? is your boredom more sophisticated than when you were younger, or are you just more conscious of its presence? when i spit you out are you on a ship or are you sleeping?
we are in the car, we just crossed the river into kentucky. i want to be at the river in paris. the seine.
yesterday i ate a seasoned pumpkind flower taco in kentucky.