Wednesday, September 9, 2009

That it should come to this...

Last week I was swilling fiano and falanghina, was almost satiated with buffalo mozzarella and even the very fresh and wonderful fior di latte, was touring the biennale like a jaded 10-year veteran (whilst retaining my own native enthusiasm), was eating brioche for breakfast, pasta for lunch, and nice salads and vegetables for dinner (and discovered myself amazing not to have gained a pound while traveling), was sunning my... wrists* on some rocky and sandy beaches, was wandering Rome and Venice with the keys to my kind friends' apartments safely tucked away in my bag, was charmingly overcharged by a Roman taxi driver**, and was invited for a quick coffee at the late Sol Lewitt's Amalfi coast house*** and was looking at his hand-drawn wall decorations and drawing table...

Today I am bouncing in along the motorway in a Greyhound bus from Boston to New York.****

BB

* I sunburn really badly and very quickly. So personally the early 20th C swimsuits are just fine for me... from neck to ankles all nicely covered... It does dampen the sex appeal a little, but what's one to do?

** Have you ever been swindled, known it was happening, but somehow enjoyed the other person going through motions of trying to fool you that you don't object? The taxi driver has the middle seat down covering the meter. Then he mumbled something about extra charges. But he was so much like Roberto Benigni in Last Night that I didn't want to burst his buble. His patter was so obvious, but charming nonetheless...

*** Sol Lewitt is in my personal pantheons of greats. Of course, not only me, but conceptual art is a specialized cup of tea outside the art world, but when I first saw his installation at Dia: Beacon I knew it was my kind of art. Since then I have become something of fanatic. Anyway, Sol Lewitt's widow invited a friend to spend the week at their house, and he invited a friend, who in turn invited me. Lewitt had a half-dozen drawings executed on his walls. And I got to see his drawing table (pictues next time -- not much to see but so inspiring!)

**** In fairness to both Greyhound and myself I should mention that it is one of the new coaches: plugs, internet, and no dirt on the seats. What happened to Champagne cocktaisl cheap white wine on the shuttle? What happend to Amtrak? Priced itself to irrelevance sadly: 5 times the price as the bus and no internet. I'll take it on a snow day, but otherwise, unlikely.

P.S. Could someone who is wiser in such matters please explain the Beatles song "You Know My Name (Look Up The Number)" to me? I think I get it, but it requires explanation. Today I'm listening to Bach (Well-Tempered Clavier) and the Beatles, a pretty much old-school combination I must admit, but BB has more than a thread of old school in the spine...

4 comments:

howler said...

you know my name, look up the number is typical lennon stream of consciousness stuff, just playing around. not as whacky as revolution #9 but not so far from it either.

memorably, john gave brian jones (by then ex rolling stone) a sax solo to play on it as encouragement to make it on his own. alas ..

Bombay Beauty said...

Brilliant commentary Howlerji, many thanks. I'm still digesting the 1960s! BB

If Jane said...

well it is really up to you...you can continue to live the fabulousness or enjoy it from a distance...
but it seems to me that italy, is somewhat an existential locale for you...
really! i personally think it should be explored...further..

xx

Bombay Beauty said...

"i personally think it should be explored...further.." and further and further! indeed, quite agree fabulousness is quite worth a few cramped hours on a coach! BB

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