the thin man

^ Dior Homme, Spring/Summer 2008. Click the image for The New York Times photojournalist Bill Cunningham's keen observations in an audio and visual slideshow, On The Street | Lanky. Below, two views captured by Cunningham of New York City men styling it and laughing in the face of today's fucked up, politically unpredictable economy.

This is one of those rare times at this moment in my own life when I smile inside seeing how others around me look. Especially in this case, with how stylish men look. I've always loved leanness and clean lines. I wore skinny trousers as far back as the early 90s, styled romantically, when I had some pairs by Dolce & Gabbana, a nice pair of rail thin black satin jeans I bought at 99th Floor in Chicago, and I even took in the legs of some of my khakis to achieve that effect. In the mid 90s I adopted a more 1960s mind and wore unforgivingly lean and severely tailored trousers and little wool sweaters by Paul Smith, vintage skinny trousers bought at thrift stores, and beautifully slim shirts by Caroll Christian Powell.

I just love how extremely modern the skinny look....looks, lol! But as Bill Cunningham puts it in his slideshow and audio presention, there is a certain fastidiousness about how these men today put themselves together that distances them greatly from the gym buffed yet sloppy, slobby, and slovenly way the previous decade's men dressed on the street. Today buttoned up yet casual and personally expressive propriety is chic and yes, masculine, just as it was during the first half of the 20th century (think Cary Grant, Noel Coward).

Plus there's a playfulness in how it's done by today's young men, with their porkpie hats, rep ties, and Converse sneakers. Even their iPod earbuds can help finish the look. It's damn cute. And yeah, sexy. I always say to project your innate sense of humour no matter how you're dressed, and especially as a big, optimistic "Fuck you!" to these harsh economic and politically volatile times.

santa monica (part 3) post mortem

EDIT: images and captions added 8/12/08

^ The old carousel on the pier is pretty much the first attraction you encounter. Absolutely exquisite, this indoor work of art must be fecund with memories of many, many little kids beaming many, many huge smiles and laughter at Mom and Dad, who were most likely too busy taking pics or video of such moments. I would've loved to have my little nieces and nephews with me to ride this, especially my grandniece.

Uploaded by www.cellspin.net

^ Post mortem report from an exhausted alien.

< When I arrived in Santa Monica I first did some banking, then sought out a chain called Panera Bread, as they give excellent grilled panini sandwiches and, natch, free wifi. (always a great thing to offer geeks and space aliens). After lunch I found the sweet shop I used to go to years back and stocked up, then headed towards the pier. The air was noticeably a bit humid compared to the valley, the smell of salt greeted my nose, and the slightly cooler air prompted me to walk more on the sunny sides of the street. Approaching the pier on a long stretch of park on Ocean Avenue afforded me a panoramic view of the soft blue horizon framed by sand and sky. I had the foresight to sightsee on a weekday so to avoid the huge crowds on Saturdays and Sundays. There were still many people, however, comprised mostly of tourists and kids on summer vacation. If you ever find yourself here on a summer day, listen closely to them talking, you'll discern lots of different languages and accents. I heard British, French, German, and what sounded like Portuguese. There were many Brits and I suspect a bunch of them to be expats living here by the sun kissed ocean, a far, far cry from the cold, wet and miserably grey London climes. There is actually a pub here in Santa Monica, called Ye Old King's Head that I passed by enroute to the pier. I've known about it for years but haven't yet actually gone thereto eat and have a pint. I'm thinking to take my nieces there next time they come down from the bay area to visit. I could do with a frosty pint of ale and a nice cottage pie, or fish and chips, and then pudding for dessert.

^ I wished my nephew R were with me. Like me he's a big video game whore (especially for racing games, his favourite) and as such would've spent too many quarters. This is the Playland Arcade on the pier, (right by the carousel house) and it's crowded with all kinds electronic and mechanical contraptions meant to suck away your time and coin. Looks like skee ball and shooting hoops are still the top draw in this kind of place, with a special counter full of prizes to claim if you win. I wasn't interested in trying my luck (or lack of skill, that is) but I did love passing through.

> Remember that scene in the Tom Hanks movie, Big? I swear, Zoltar seems like he was giving me the sideways eye as I took this pic. Sorry, sir, I don't need what Josh wished for in that movie, considering I'm fine how I am, having never grown up inside.

Below, left to right: The 'flying rats' of Santa Monica Pier. I finally reached the very tip of the pier (check here) and was greeted by lovely flying rats. K. wrote me and stated: "...pigeons were historically seen as great animals, nowadays since they are overpopulating they are seen as pests (Book Pays Tribute to the Much Maligned Pigeon | NPR)." Rat shit on the wooden steps. I wonder, if we fed them food coloured scraps would the entire pier look nice and pretty covered in rainbow coloured shit? The viewing room was empty. Most everyone wanted to be below and outside. I would love to own a house by the ocean and have this view always. I went up the shit covered stairs and into this room to snap the pic and record the audio blog.

< Final image. No, I'm no longer in Santa Monica. This is the great hall in Union Station in downtown L.A. where the #10 express blue bus dropped me off enroute home. I was insanely exhausted but had to snap the pic because it's a damn handsome space. There's another fine hall at the far end but it's closed off and they only use it to rent out for shooting movies and possibly hosting big parties and events. After taking this pic I managed to crawl up to the Gold Line light rail platform for the 15 minute ride going home, playing me some Jeanne d'Arc on my PSP while waiting for the train.

What's your take on Santa Monica? Ever been there? Wanna go? Share your thoughts by hitting the 'Responses' link below.

Related:
Santa Monica | Wikipedia
santa monica (part 1) | a space alien
santa monica (part 2) | a space alien

clutter and meaning

Photographs I took of my old digs in Chicago, a hardwood floored studio in the Lakeview neighbourhood by the lakefront, where I lived in the early 90s. The images were meant to be arranged in a panoramic David Hockney-esque manner.

We as humans keep many things, stash many things, often subconsciously, as a way of creating a personal geography of experiences deep inside ourselves. Each object we've acquired, been given, stumbled upon, paid dearly for, and otherwise seen pass into our lives becomes a sort of banal marker, perhaps a small milestone, or if it involves great emotional or psychic associations, a deep symbolic depth. We store our objects away, sometimes carefully cataloged, sometimes haphazardly and without order, and we forget them until that one moment when we happen to be looking for something, as search or investigation triggered by a present event. That's when we become aware again, become attuned again, to the perhaps existential connections between one's self, the world, time, space, materiality, and passage.

A copy of the first American hardback edition of the novel The Mandarins by writer and philosopher Simone de Beauvoir. I found it years ago in a used books shop in Chicago and read it ravenously for hours at cafe. I still haven't yet, but will eventually read, de Beauvoir's seminal proto-feminist work, The Second Sex.

Earlier today something I was reading online triggered a desire to find and look at a certain coffee table style book I had that showcased writers' houses, particularly the spare and spiritually spacious sea front home of one writer, my favourite home out of all of them and one I could easily see myself effortlessly living in for the rest of my life (I'll post about it soon). Of course, it took me a while to find this book but meanwhile the task became an adventure for me and before I knew it I was looking at all these things I had put away in storage, each item igniting remembrances - passages of moments, relationships, and moods.

Left: Most have been read, some not. Pooh was given to me 11 years ago by an erstwhile lover and friend, Piglet I bought some time later to keep Pooh company. Right: When I used to work as a designer in the fashion industry I bought this sterling silver ball from a wholesale vendor. It emits a soft, very tiny bell-like tinkle as it rolls or shakes, as if it's giggling, tickling my spirit and calming me. I keep it in a little aubergine velvet pouch. It has since tarnished (until I decide to give it a good polish).


Left: My old boss knew I was a bookworm of sorts, so she presented me with an ostrich skin cover she designed and made herself for whatever tomes I had that would fit it. Currently it protects my indispensible paperback copy of The Art of Living by Epictetus. I read quite a lot back then, usually at cafe near my apartment building, spending hours vanished in literature, philosophy, psychology, biographies, and anthologies. I ordered this luxurious, beautiful stark black calf leather cover from Levenger; it came with a bungie bookmark to secure the whole thing. People thought I was reading the Bible! I told them, "Sorry to disappoint you, but it's Voltaire." Right: I wonder how they'd react if I showed them what I'm reading now that I keep sheathed in this Bible-like book cover.

It was compelling. I had to take some pictures of them at the moment they were bubbling up those remembrances in me, in effect creating a meta memory.


Listen to the giggling silver ball (recorded via iPhone by the CellSpin app)!

And what about you, friend? What things of yours have you adventitiously come across while searching for something else that triggered the same experience? How did you react? What meanings do they hold for you?