Robert (gurdonark) wrote,

cheap tie longings

Sunday we took my nephew to the local natatorium, which it turns out is a fancy way to say "swimming pool". I loved the "river rapids" thing, flowing water running through a winding concrete pathway.

My wife kindly agreed to drop my nephew in Mount Pleasant, so I went to my office and got some work done. Then I slept on the late plane until finally landing at 1:30 a.m. I liked the two girls on our flight from Vegas to SF who wore identical black dresses, identical blonde locks/black on top hairstyles, identical knee socks and tennis shoes, and identical skull purses with Hello, Kitty purse-ettes. There's something to be said for flair.

I somehow had failed to pack ties, so I slogged from the airport Westin to the airport Marriott to buy one before I went downtown. The airport Marriott ties were enormously ordinary, except that they were priced as if they came from a decent-ish men's store. I plunked down the forty dollars for a twenty dollar tie. I do not mind paying for a proper silk tie, but I prefer not to pay a decent price for an ordinary tie. I secretly long to wear clip ties, but they are out of vogue. I find them hilarious, though. I wore them until I was in my 20s, and learned better. But I wish I had never learned. So many things I know about the "right way to live" are so disappointing. I used to wish I could wear my blue hiking socks with my suit, because it seemed to me kinda natty and spats-ish. But folks would literally complain to the management.

I had meetings most of the day Monday, in which I spoke at length (never a refreshing experience for my listeners, I fear), after which I got together with my old law school classmate and friend Eric for dinner. Eric, who grew up in tiny Amity, Arkansas, has for years worked at a paralegal at a major downtown San Francisco law firm. He lives in a cool apartment downtown, works well but not obsessively, reads exhaustively and intelligently, and regularly travels the world. Sometimes I think Eric has an ideal life, but I know that under the grease paint, we're all still clowns, a bit.

We went to a nouvelle Asian restaurant, in a "metreon", which is a snazzy way of saying "mall", where the "pho" I order is not called "pho", but instead becomes "Indochine Bowl" (thankfully "root beer" is still "root beer" and not "French imperialist mercenary juice"), and then Eric showed me all the cool things they've built lately near Union Square.

We stopped by a Ross Dress for Less near my hotel, where the twenty dollar ordinary ties were only eight dollars, which made me happier than I was at the airport Marriott by thirty two dollars. Fortunately, in Garland, Texas, nobody worries if I am in last season's solid ,name brand but somewhat "factory second last season's" tie. We looked a jazz CDs at the Virgin Records, but I only purchased a Bill Nelson two CD import, and not the Sun Ra CDs that intrigued me most. I like that Bill Nelson is so prolific.

The Union Square Marriott was pleasing in every way. I read Johnson's novel "Le Divorce", which amused me a great deal--an untrustworthy narrator first-person light comedy, using the French/Californian contrast as the narrative platform. I always read such escapist novels and think everyone is so fascinating in this life or any imaginary life.

I had a Tuesday dawn call with an east coast client. Then I went to Tuesday meetings before heading to the plane. I caught a three o'clock one-stop, which meant that I travelled until ten. I read Business 2.0 magazine, which had a wonderful piece about amusing business mistakes by major corporations.

I read Spin Magazine, which purported to tell me about 45 new bands I must hear, but I could only find 20 or so of them. I thought about how my mainstream tastes are now too mainstream for Spin, and my non-mainstream tastes are now far too underground for Spin. I wonder if rock music magazines serve any constituency anymore.

On the plane home, I also finished a book loaned by a friend which expressed romantic theories and religious views I do not share, but which had worlds of wonderful literary and theological allusion. I began a Michael Crichton novel I have not previously read.

The BBC late night radio trumpeted Mr. Kerry's primary wins, and I thought about how the two candidates I think of as most "internet-based", Dean and Clark, both proved that the internet can build a groundswell useful for fund-raising and profile-raising, but cannot yet deliver voters to the polls.

I notice on the "mail art" forum this week that a mail artist who has been regularly posting rambling posts with that kind of artsy "intentionally bad spelling and grammar" that seems to be in vogue with some, managed to get banned from the forum, while the moderator posted a "what shall we do?" post. Then said mail artist changed handles and posted some new post suggesting that rather than that person using lj-cut, the entire forum should cease being afflicted by group conformity thinking. These tempests in teacups (trolls in castles?) interest me.

I will no doubt pronounce some grand theory about such things, but for now I am merely debating deleting another community from my list. I love pointless debate, but only when it has a point.

I've had three folks I found quite interesting drop me from their friends' list in the last 3 weeks or so. I try to adhere to the party line that "I know I am boring, and that not everyone wishes to read what I say", but I do feel a twinge, sometimes. Still, I think people should drop and add as they see fit. It's hard to blame anyone in light of how wordy,repetitive and (to be more charitable) idiosyncratic I can be. But it's not quite as negative as that. I do not write to please the universe. I write because I like to write. I read because I like to read. I think it's important that LJ not become one more junior high prison, and guilt-free dropping seems to me to be part of the formula.

A busy three days ahead, and I'm eager to get some sleep now. I can never sleep right off the plane, but a little internet time seems to make a big difference.

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