Like the Lost Colony of Roanoke, that party of British settlers that disappeared in 1587, there is little evidence to suggest the disposition of whomever left protective papers on this toilet in the second floor men’s room of my office building in Koreatown.
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Frampton, who is more an Athenian Ideal than a cat, was proclaimed Cat of the Day today by the International Pet of the Day Foundation, which also bestows daily honors on dogs, rabbits, and, I’m assuming, worthy tapeworms. I fixed the ringer of my 1972-vintage Stromberg-Carlson rotary phone by employing something called a flathead screwdriver that I was loaned by a local museum of anthropology. Satan/Songwriters Fogelfoot returns to the glorious and exotic Club Fais Do Do this Friday for a very special evening of whimsy, despair, chicken licks, time travel, and emotional ambiguity. We were watching Go Go’s videos when the quake struck. It was a 7.2 temblor originating 250 miles south in the exotic country of Mexico. I shot this video in the Irish enclave of Dorchester, MA on St. Stephen’s Day, as a seisun band tuned up with a ditty by Celtic icon John Denver. The children and I spent long hours rehearsing this deft script penned in the wake of the Easter Uprising by James Joyce: HARRISON  I was ashamed to tell her that it was my common sense that suggested I just put the whole lemon rind in there in the first [...] God showed His face to my windshield, and by extension, me, today, indicating that He has great plans for us both. I have not received a parking ticket in the City of Los Angeles since January 12, 2009. It was Chinatown. I didn’t contest it. “Forget it, Marty,” I said, echoing Boz Scaggs. “It’s Chi-town.” |
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Copyright © 2010 Marty Barrett: Refenestration Consultant, Aerialist, Raconteur, Tycoon - All Rights Reserved |
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