(non-space)

FAKE, BORING, POINTLESS, AND OBSCENE:

Notes from a Weird Day

Frank Lloyd Wright

Claremont Hotel Wedding Chapel

Designed, but never built

1957

An architectural abortion. The photo (of four men, three of whom go unnamed) documents a Nothing. Its irrelevance is almost offensive, though it does reinforce some notion of Idolatry, Celebrity. For them, daily Existence becomes an Event.

Claremont Hotel Balcony, 25th of November 2009. Late afternoon. Gazing from a bleached monolith, ghost-filled. Overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge. More people launch themselves into oblivion from that spot than any other place on Earth. The Beautiful Function as life-force/instrument of death.

Lately I've been reading about the Kennedy assassination. Fuck the Revolutionary War nostalgia; this country feels cheated for never having had a monarchy. Earlier in the day heard, via a sound-system, a radio commercial for an upcoming episode of Oprah during which she speaks to the widow of Ted Kennedy. Invasive, awful questions. Two elderly people in the Claremont sigh "oooh, the Kennedys," while marveling at a hallway photographic display. We have all become Abraham Zapruders, destined to relive November 22, 1963, over and over.

An Evening Gown Must Now be Worn with Combat Boots (Or, my belated understanding of 1990s feminist fashion.)

I have a black, 1940s gown stowed in a bag slung over my shoulder. (Currently, however, I am dressed like Punk before the media blitz, before the cloning...a Dickensian homage to poverty: frayed denim, smudged face, hair asymmetrically shorn, head tilted in curiosity like an anthropologist's as I meander through the hotel.)

the implied(?):

-Functionality vs. the Perversely Ironic Display (the latter=no function/purely conceptual).

-The Perceived Function vs. the Wearer's Intention

-The Linking of War/Militaristic Presence and Affluence (ironically, the latter can be achieved through the former, though actual times of war are historically ones of scarcity and rationing, the 1940s being an excellent example of this paradox.)

-A Historiography of Restrictive Dress

-The Locality of Western Costume

Clothing is no longer conceptual; it has shifted to the supremely functional, the practical, the utilitarian.

-Female clothing is (has always been) little more than a precursor to sex. To deny this would be self-delusion as to The Garment's social function, as well as that of the Female. Concordantly, to subvert this function would be to reposition the future of both. (Hence: boots. Sex is guerilla warfare, insofar as the rest of life is.)

Player Piano at the Claremont Hotel "Performs" Christmas Carols

-Guiltless commodification of Perfection

-Skill is prized over passion, yet our idea of passion is still paramount. (Hence: the instrument itself, a physical memory of an absent human. We must project what we cannot witness.)

I enjoy this music ("music"?) less than if a human being was behind the keys. Why?

I enjoy it less than if the same song was created via MIDI. Why? Conceptual similarities vs. Differences in Execution. "The song remains the same"/Only the musical context differs.

[At this point I take an opportunity to create cryptographic checkerboard games (using the pieces and boards intended for guests' use) and to rearrange the order of the flatware on the dining tables. My life is dedicated to senseless pranks and undermining the bourgeoise.]

Large, Crude Gingerbread House Constructed From Cardboard

Mother, to Child: "Look at that Gingerbread House!"

A gingerbread house-->simulation of actual house

A cardboard "gingerbread house"-->simulacra of the simulation. It is literally meaningless, functionless decor; it does nothing except conjure associations, an aggressive reminder.

Me, to myself: perfect metaphor for the HOLIDAYSEASON in the United States. This disconnect between signifier/symbol/signified occurs so frequently at this time. It's well-documented, almost obvious (i.e. California lawns bearing fake snow and plastic snowmen--we grow nostalgic for weather we never had, etc.)

"It is the misunderstanding of the earth, the forgetting of the star on which he lives, that has made for man an existence at the mercy of the merchandise he produces, the largest part of which is devoted to death." (George Bataille)

PAN BACK TO GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE/AND SCENE.