not so silent

My next visit on my pilgrimage of Rothko’s work was to The San Francisco Museum of Modern Art today which cost $15 to gain entrance. They have a number of Rothko’s but only one on display unless I missed a room. Here is a link to the one I saw ttp://sfmoma.stores.yahoo.net/markrothko2.html . The main dominant colour is orange hovering above a blue block all placed on a deep red/maroon. It was the only Rothko in the room sharing a space with other modern art. This piece on its own seems not so boastful as the clutch of his work at the LA MOMA. In total I spent about 30 mins in front of it which was rewarding. I am unsure what it meant spiritually. But as I pondered I was joined by two other people. We were united by the work the silence and the experience we seemed to be informed enough without engaging with each other. I was wondering how different an experience this was in comparison to church for many people. We were after all in a new sort of cathedral. Here the gods of the art have...

I was looking in a very swanky art gallery this morning the sort of place you are supposed to buy the stuff. I have a wide ranging conversation with the manager about art which is for another time but he says that in divorce 50% of everything is a lot. Latter in the day as I come out of the local store there is a man, always black, holding an empty paper cup and he is not looking for coffee. The black man and the paper cup have become for me the very image of broken American capitalism, not because of this one single smelly human being holding this cup but because there are so many of them. I place a single dollar bill into the empty cup to buy his story. I ask why he is not working, I presume the story is not unusual and here is the link with the start. The answer to my single dollar question is, my wife left me. For this man with the paper cup it seems that 50% of everything is a 100%. The art dealer believed that giving half your kingdom away for something was not worth it, whatever...

I come to the last night in SF before Erin comes. My four bed dorm has been a place of change we started off with 1 Minnesota man, 1 French man, 1 Australian man and me. Then we lost Minnesota man, then Australian went to LA, in comes a man from Australia I think, I only hear him arrive during the night and see him when I get up, oh yes and his girlfriend. So sometimes of four bed dorm is more. Then comes Hong Kong man whose opening question me is, have I seen cockroaches? I give him a firm no. He seems to boast tonight he has seen a cockroach in the room. I tell him I did not need to know that and thank God I am on the top bunk unless these little buggers can fly jump or climb I am safe for the last night. If I am not mistaken Frenchman is still with us, I never know until 1 or 3 o’clock in the morning. Tomorrow English man leaves and will be replaced by .............? The Common Room here is like a multinational student room and most people have a lap top of some description. They sp...

This sort of community living in a hostel is something fresh for me. This morning I made my usual journey to the bathroom which is a shower, not the rest room which is the toilet, which you don’t do much resting in, when I saw rest room I imagined a group of people relaxing after a tough day but it was just me not resting. Anyway back to the bathroom which is the shower. I strip to my fine shower physic and look into the cubicle and before me is a disappointing sight. Where the empty shower tray should be is a shallow pool of used water. I could tell it was used because all of the different coloured hair floating lazily in the pool. This has gone beyond the odd pubic hair this is like a hair revolution below me. So I retreat in search of another shower which I find successfully. The common room here is a bit like the United Nations with people from all over the world. There is the man who always wear’s cycling lycra which he designs himself. Then there is a man with tattoos who is a ve...

Do you remember the song from I think it was The Four Seasons Oh what a night? Well for me it is the same expression for a different reason. Made it to San Francisco 10 0clock at night and chickened and got a cab to the hostel. I am in a four bed dorm with three other guy’s they also have mixed dorms but Erin said No No No. Who do you think uses the prayer Please God don’t let me fall? Mountaineers, wire walkers scaffolders, no me lying on the top bunk I am last in the room so I get a top bunk. The last time I slept on the top bunk I was 8 years old now I am like granddad in the room they are so young I am not sure whether to go to sleep or read them a story. At some point in the long night alongside the fear of falling out of bed I loos my pillow, it has fallen to its death thousands of feet below it is my only comfort apart from second hand sleeping bag. I think I am the only one in the hostel in a black two piece pair of striped pyjamas. Not sure if I will have to go and get a pair ...

$1.15 gets me out of down town LA on the bus. I am pretty certain it’s the 333 I need to get to The Amtrak station. So up comes the bus and I better ask the driver, are you going to Amtrak? It’s says Union Station on the front is the quiet and impatient reply. I dare to try one more time. So that is where I get the Amtrak line? It says Union City on the front of the bus. To put this encounter into perspective I have spent a good amount of time this morning committing the day to God in prayer, give me eyes to see and ears to hear; people and land to engage with, you know the everyday stuff you all do. But now I have a tension within me I am contemplating poking him in the bloody eye and hoping he has hemeroids. But I duly offer my $1.25 into the machine (by the way that gets you any were in the city one way, you do the math). To balance this event another story that might help reflect the difference between NY and LA. On the subway in NY I swiped my subway card and realised I was on the...

I found the metro today so I took off to Hollywood. If you are ever given the choice of going down Hollywood drive or saw of a toe of go for the latter. On the metro came 3 young girls with their children all between 3 and 16ish (age). It is my presumption they were related but I could be wrong. But I imagine when the older girls were say 3 years old their mommy must have taken them to one side and said. You need to speak up, speak loud, speak without taking a breath and don’t mind whatever anyone else thinks. They invaded the carriage and drowned out the sound of the metro. It was like towing an empty skip behind the train. The younger girls looked at their moms and i could imagine them thinking how am i going to do that for the rest of my life. I got off the metro and I could still hear them as the metro pulled out of the station. Down the road from where I am staying there making a movie. The road is closed biker copes at all points and numerous of film wanabees with radios telling ...