Did I Promise?
I passed a black Ferrari parked near Gold's Gym on my way to breakfast this morning, new, small (they always seem smaller than you think when you find one in the flesh). I personally prefer my Ferrari's red, but I'm not the guy who wrote the check. Unless life takes a different turn, I'm never going to be the guy who wrote the check.
Which is OK. Cars are one of life's little mysteries. Social class, status, self image, all of them and others more mysterious come with an automobile, late nights in the garage standing around the car over a few beers talking shop, late afternoons at the club sitting around the pool sipping gin, all that polished metal, leather and horsepower.
And was it ever thus? A man and his horse, a woman and her horse, hide and hair and flesh. "Yes, my man, fifteen hands, powerful legs. I bred a horse once with six legs for straightaway speed, fed him oats and salmon eggs like mixing pale cool nitro into the gasoline tank, made him get up and roar." This is not just a male conceit. Woman and horse, how might they be described? Riding into the sunset, legs wrapped round a thousand pounds of pounding rib cage, muscle and guts. Then, shaking my head to clear the cobwebs, this morning, smiling, early, standing in front of a black Ferrari tethered to the sidewalk, no one around, I passed along to breakfast.
Rented Mullholland Drive late this afternoon, which appears to be about a young woman who makes her move to Hollywood where things work out badly. Dear Mr. Lynch. I went to see Eraserhead when it was released in the seventies and I thought, at the time, a not inaccurate comment on the step into marriage. Blue Velvet and Lost Highway also got my attention. I just - and I thought this when I saw Eraserhead that first time - I just am not sure how many times I can go through something like this. I'm getting older, my emotional shock absorbers just can't take the punishment. Still, I watched it twice, you understand, just to, um, pick through those images again to see what I'd missed. LSD, as I recollect, is a similar experience. I definitely am not interested in any of that anymore either. (Anymore either?)
I've been tired all day today, but I got out and walked around the downtown and Jack London Square shooting pictures for a few hours. Lunch, a turkey and Swiss cheese sandwich on a baguette with a cold Coca-Cola out on the sidewalk. Got some sun, got some exercise, did not get to the Oakland zoo as I promised. Or did I promise?