I keep forgetting that I have this blog and that I should write in it. I keep coming up with interesting ideas or experiences that I should document but don't due to laziness. It's been like this all my life. It's my legacy or the cycle that I am tasked to break.
I had a great picture of the neon sign at the Chelsea Hotel from the terrace of a room below. My evidence that I hung out there this weekend. It was in Bob Dylan's old room. I was supposed to post it up on this, but I deleted it from my computer. Now I gotta sync my IPhone again.
Anyway, the person who lived there was a bit of a (self-confessed) slob and when we all arrived he said to straighten up the place. There was quite a bit of clothing and such laying about so I said aloud, in everyone's good humour, that there were a lot of Jackson Pollacks in this Chelsea Hotel apartment. I was rather pleased with myself that I was able to bridge the gap between rock and roll, art savvy New York, and trite, potty humour obsessed suburbia. But I did have to explain what I meant by "Jackson Pollack", which to my relief got a laugh from everyone. Upon further reflection, I was somehow delighted to know that I would've gotten the same curious, blank reaction from a contrasting audience in a suburban setting. But now I'm realizing that people just don't get me anywhere I go.
Here's the picture:
I also had a dream where I was a middle aged business executive in a nice suit in Midtown Manhattan. I was in the center of a great city-block expanse of freshly poured concrete and it was my job to get people off of it so they don't muff it up. As I was chasing after everyone and shouting at them, I was making a big mess of it myself. I think I have an interpretation for what this dream means.
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