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4.14.2005
The Original Mile-High Club
I spent the whole day working in Denver, but was determined to check out a show I had found out about the night before. The band was "Le Boom," and contained a singer from a punk band I had seen on a previous trip. The singer has a great voice and is ultra sexy. Unfortunately, the show was a "local showcase," and so I had to wait through an excrutiatingly painful set by a band stuck in a sound that was popular and buried ten years ago. Oh well Le Boom put on a good show. I bought a cd and was harranged by the aforementioned band. The cd doesn't quite capture their stage sound, but oh well, it's got one track that I'd pay the whole ten bucks for.
4.12.2005
In New York they pronounce it "How-ston"
I was pleasantly surprised about Houston. I had expected a traffic-filled, smog-congested Texas metropolis, but partly from where I stayed, discovered it to be an area rich in restaurants and culture.
I stayed in the museum district which afforded me a variety of museums all within close walking distance. I chose the Contemporary Museum of Art since I particularly enjoy learning about the art of now. It happened to be free which was especially enticing. I spent a good hour and a half there. Upon leaving, I realized how lucky I was to be able to enjoy a midweek afternoon like that. It was in the 80s, the sun was shining bright when suddenly a good-sized rat jumped out of the museum clover and crossed my path to some low shrubbery on the other side. I freaked out (more on this later) as it seemed unnatural for a rat to show itself in the bright of day as people wandered about. Why couldn't it have waited until I passed first? It shook me up, and I walked as if on eggshells down the sidewalk, startled at any blown leaf or squirrel climbing a tree. I was tempted to go back to my hotel and crawl into the sanctuary of my bed, but looked across the great green expanse of a park that began at an arch statue of the great Sam Houston and roundabout street. It reminded me of Paris, the arch and roundabout, not Sam Houston. I decided to press my luck and wandered through the park. There was a miniature railroad that took passengers through the park. I followed the signs to the depot to hitch a ride to no avail. I wandered over to a small lake with paddle boats, then happened upon a Japanese tea garden. I strolled through, stopping on a walk-bridge over a pond and paused to look for coy fish. Suddenly, a dozen large coy, three turtles, and a handful of ducks appeared, possibly hoping for a handout. A coy surfaced, sticking its big mouth out of the water and looked at me. I swear I heard it make a squealing noise as if begging for a morsel. Against park rules and mostly from the curiosity to hear the fish speak again, I spit my gum into the pond, which quickly disappeared into the belly of an orange coy. Apparently the fish never heard the old wives tale about it staying in its system for seven years. Well, as the Japanese say," Coys will be Coys!"
Going back to the rat issue, here are my thoughts:
I didn't become scared of rats until they began entering my dreams a few years ago. It was obvious that they represented a problem or situation that was "gnawing" at me, a "pest" I had to rid myself of. After this, whenever I would see a rat on the sidewalk I would become horrified, seeing my problems manifested themselves in the flesh of this vermin. To this day, as the problems disappear and the rats are missing from my dreams, I continue to be mortified at these gross reminders of my past and what my occur again in my future.
I stayed in the museum district which afforded me a variety of museums all within close walking distance. I chose the Contemporary Museum of Art since I particularly enjoy learning about the art of now. It happened to be free which was especially enticing. I spent a good hour and a half there. Upon leaving, I realized how lucky I was to be able to enjoy a midweek afternoon like that. It was in the 80s, the sun was shining bright when suddenly a good-sized rat jumped out of the museum clover and crossed my path to some low shrubbery on the other side. I freaked out (more on this later) as it seemed unnatural for a rat to show itself in the bright of day as people wandered about. Why couldn't it have waited until I passed first? It shook me up, and I walked as if on eggshells down the sidewalk, startled at any blown leaf or squirrel climbing a tree. I was tempted to go back to my hotel and crawl into the sanctuary of my bed, but looked across the great green expanse of a park that began at an arch statue of the great Sam Houston and roundabout street. It reminded me of Paris, the arch and roundabout, not Sam Houston. I decided to press my luck and wandered through the park. There was a miniature railroad that took passengers through the park. I followed the signs to the depot to hitch a ride to no avail. I wandered over to a small lake with paddle boats, then happened upon a Japanese tea garden. I strolled through, stopping on a walk-bridge over a pond and paused to look for coy fish. Suddenly, a dozen large coy, three turtles, and a handful of ducks appeared, possibly hoping for a handout. A coy surfaced, sticking its big mouth out of the water and looked at me. I swear I heard it make a squealing noise as if begging for a morsel. Against park rules and mostly from the curiosity to hear the fish speak again, I spit my gum into the pond, which quickly disappeared into the belly of an orange coy. Apparently the fish never heard the old wives tale about it staying in its system for seven years. Well, as the Japanese say," Coys will be Coys!"
Going back to the rat issue, here are my thoughts:
I didn't become scared of rats until they began entering my dreams a few years ago. It was obvious that they represented a problem or situation that was "gnawing" at me, a "pest" I had to rid myself of. After this, whenever I would see a rat on the sidewalk I would become horrified, seeing my problems manifested themselves in the flesh of this vermin. To this day, as the problems disappear and the rats are missing from my dreams, I continue to be mortified at these gross reminders of my past and what my occur again in my future.
