You know, this place. The nation's biggest shopping center. Where I once shot a video in the big atrium them walked into a pole and nearly got a concussion. Where I went with Gnat to play with Lego on long winter afternoons, to watch her go 'round on the rides. Where I go every Christmas and end up at Johnny Rockets with bags heaped around my ankles as I eat fries at twilight.
They're going to expand it. And by "expand" I mean build another one even bigger across the street. I went to get some color for the newspaper column riff on the expansion. Well, there's this:
When you note that there are three levels shown you can properly apprehend the enormity of the electronic LiceLady ad.
I went to the GAP to see if they had anything on sale. T-shirts were 40% off, but only selected styles, i.e., the boring ones you could get for less at Old Navy, albeit 17% more scratchy. I asked the clerk which ones were Selected.
"Okay, the ones that have a price that ends in five-oh aren't on sale, and the ones that end in nine-seven are." This made no sense, because the ones that ended in five-oh were the cheap ones. So I pointed to one whose price ended in nine-seven, and said "This is on sale."
"No," he said. The ones that end in five."
There was another T-shirt whose price as 14.95, and I said "so this one's on sale."
Whereupon swear to God he said "No, the ones that end with a nine before the last number aren't."
Whereupon a manager who had overheard came over and said "The ones that end in Five-Oh are on sale. The others are not."
"Well, I guess I've been all wrong!" the clerk grinned. "Steering you wrong. Sorry about that."
I imagine it's hard to keep that nonsense straight.
Bought two. New colors! Somewhat different than colors that were briefly in vogue seven years ago! On the way out of the Mall I felt my phone go off, and I could barely hear the person on the other end. Something about an interview on radio -
Uh oh. Right. Didn't I put that on my calendar? I asked him to hold on while made it outside, and then I said "Is this the radio interview I obviously forgot about?" and he admitted that it was. I began it in the parking lot in the rain on the way to my car, then sat in the front seat for half an hour blabbing along. I'll post it when it's posted.
Back home in the rain listening to middle-aged men reviving the most basic Kraftwerk possible and adding a quality I hadn't heard in so many years. I felt all my years and felt young again. A good Wednesday so far.
This was too big for Tiny Lies. Found in the back of a sci-fi pulp mag:
The ad had case histories of people who were just like you, or perhaps, inferior: you could say "I may soak the bed every night, but I'm not like that loser." Or if the fictional Case Person had more impressive attributes, you could console yourself with the knowledge that even people who had poise and accomplishments and jobs and sex and everything weren't so special they didn't leak out half a cup now and then.
Case No. 2 looks troubled. He certainly had diligent parents - after one month with the mail-order pills, they still thought they'd work. And they were right! Case No. 3 was "nervous, irratable" - well, yes, she's all chafed up. She's been chafed up for yerars.
Case no. 5 seemed to have a rather traumatic run, compared, but he wet "heavily." You cannot imagine what that means in this context.
Wonder what was in it. Glue, maybe.
When I mean odds and ends, I mean it, pal. Behold the 1959 line of END TABLES!
The one on the left looks like you entered the room while it was trying to walk away, and it froze, terrified. The hoo-mons must not know we are in their homes, observing them. I shall try to escape tomorrow. The other one is perfect for corners were you want to stick magazines in the back and never think about them for six months, until you start cleaning, and then you ask yourself why you subscribe to this magazine in the first place because you never read it. I mean the pictures are nice and one day you'll read that piece on art in Rome, because you're the sort of person who likes to think she's the sort of person who does that. Oh, put them back. Never mind.
No. 347 hasn't been happy since Busby Berkley stopped making those wonderful movies. No. 251 is bold and dramatic, but is actually a spy from a Soviet constructivism poster.
All are available in Blond Oak, the homeowner's first choice for finshes most easily and conspicuously ruined when the cigarette rolls out of the ashtray!
----
As noted above: drove home from the Mall listening to the new OMD, a band I knew about before they were cool. (I was a New Wave version of the insufferable hipster back then.) I wonder what I would have thought if Future Self had appeared in that wretched high rise where I listened to "Enola Gay" on headphones and said "You will be listening to their latest album in the year 2013." As usual, I would have said: On the moon, right?
People dismiss OMD because they had a song in the Pretty in Pink soundtrack, and a brief moment of pop succes, ergo, ha ha 80s videos angular hair. As if connecting to the culture somehow negates any aesthetic accomplishments they might have achieved. As if tossing off one pop hit means they didn't do it ten more times in between non-commercial work as experimental as the Serious envelope-shredders whose work today sounds strained and dated.
Rainy afternoon, downtown, Hennepin Avenue: I walked into Music City, and beheld what I was instantly convinced was the greatest album title ever in the history of things that spoke to me:
Architecture and Morality. Oh man serious stuff. Back to the rooming house as fast as possible; slap that platter on the Technics turntable and get ready for some amazing intelligent music!
Which I didn't like! At all!
The first song, anyway. Kept listening; it got better; then . . . this. (Silly video, by the way; best not to watch, as it detracts from the song.) Nothing else sounded like this then.
For one thing: real drums. And then, holy crow, the drums. Andy McCluskey has that great melodramatic voice you'd hear echoed later in other 80s bands, and he has two modes here: hushed contemplative wonder, and then TOP O' THE LUNGS OVEREMORTING prior to the drums really taking over at 2:01.
You'd follow just about anyone into battle who used those drums. You may cock an eyebrow Spocklike, but this is one of my ten favorite songs.
Is there anything on the new album this good? No, but most of it's close. These guys are my age. Unlike people who grew up loving the Beatles in the 60s, I know I won't be sitting with a pained grin on my face when they do "Silly Love Songs" some day. Because they won't.
-----
There is an update today, because the motels are usually done a week in advance. There's one more state after this. The entire project start to finish took 55 weeks. That's a nice run.
What will I possibly do to replace it?
Well, since I began the Motel overhaul, I've accumulated about 50 more cards, but those will be out next summer. In the meantime? Oh, just you wait.
Really, you don't have a choice. You can't make me say anything. You can only guess. And wait! So I guess you can't only guess. You can only wait, but that means foregoing guessing.
