Peregrine flight

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Le grand coronation

Yesterday was a difficult day for me, one of my toughest setup days in memory.  The Miami Beach Antique Show is massive with over one thousand dealers on the floor and I pulled a leg muscle just walking around.  Add that to my new habit of having to use the bathroom every twenty minutes and you get misery.  After several exploratory expeditions, I actually managed to find a toilet without piss on the seat.  Foul humans...

I did manage to buy a really nice protean mythologic painting by an Indiana artist, John Hemming Fry, that I think is fabulous.  But setup is moving along really slowly and it will be a struggle to be ready by showtime.  I have hired a girl to help me (a first in 15 years) who shows up today and hopefully it will make things easier.

Some really great material on the floor, lots of international dealers, fabulous silver, nice jewelry.  I keep my fingers crossed regarding my own success, but seem to have my usual pessimism which has not yet quite been trumped by my countervailing narcissism.  My booth is postage stamped size and I will have to make difficult decisions this morning regarding what gets shown and what gets put back in the van.  Saw some old comrades from the show world who are amazed that I traveled this far east and my intimidation at the new venue and bigshot east coast dealers has slightly abated.

We traveled north to find a home depot about two hundred blocks north and then went to Publix to buy soap and necessities which the condo lacked and then Steve walked and I limped to a nearby Cuban restaurant for a meal of roast chicken, plantains and black beans. Muy delicioso.

I had several calls during the day from family and friends who were watching the inauguration, rather joyfully.  I was too busy to check anything out. My roommate here, an ardent Bush Cheney supporter, is rather defensive about the legacy of the outgoing administration but I'm trying to gracefully steer around the political minefield.  I think Obama is going to have to start healing the sick with the high level of expectations around him. There will be an eventual comedown and maybe then we will actually get something constructive accomplished. The orgy of glee is a little too much for me right now.  People are more giddy than I can ever remember and that's good and I just wish I felt good enough to join the party.  I watched the dance and methinks the prez got his rhythm from his mother's side of the family.

Although the election points to an America that is obviously more mature racially, as a guy quickly approaching old fart status, my thoughts are that the passing of the baton is more indicative of a generational change.  The Vietnam schism, like outdated opinions of gays and hopefully marijuana legalization are ending.  It was a little too Beyonce and not enough Etta James for me. Call me a romantic.

The landlord is supposed to come over with the plumber to see why the ceiling is leaking this morning so of course the leaking has now stopped.  Have yerselves a wonderful day.



Anonymous said...

On the road with Rob...........
Dont they call girls who help you in Miami-prostitutes?????

grumpy said...

i was gonna tell you before, after all those gastronomic horror stories, eat in a Cuban restaurant, fer G** sake, yer in Miami after all-cuban roast pork is my favorite...good luck, hope you sell lots..

Anonymous said...

hey amigo.....
you sound really down in your blog writings....I mean, really down.
no wit or irony, metaphors etc.

As for Florida, you should be rejoicing because it is full of young pretty girls wearing little, older ugly rich guys with little but money...it should keep hope alive. Next year in Jeruselum? No fucking way. Gimme 100 grand and six months in Miami. Screw Vegas.

Aren't you heading down to Calle Ocho (Isn't that what they call it?) USed to be full of great cheap Cuban joints, fresh fish, little cafe's with that insane super strong Cuban espresso.

In the --------- days, we did a show in Miami and ----- was our opening act. He was out on his first tour, promoting his first album with -----....what a sound. Later on that tour, I was in Salt Lake and saw a lap steel in a pawn shop, bought it, a 47 Gibson with a P90 pickup, still play it and the pots are still fine....
Anyway, my Grandma Rose came to the show. Well, I had to go pick her up cause she could no longer legally see even though she still played a good game of bridge. She came to the show and we went for something to eat at some lousy deli. She ordered a Milton Berle or Shecky Green or something and I complained that they didn't have anything macrobiotic on the menu-the waitress said, "Macaroni....huh?"
After such a full night, I headed back to the Holiday Inn on the beach (am sure it is long gone.) As I walked up to the main entrance from the parking lot, a nice looking, regular hippy lookin guy walks up to me and says, "hey man, you want to go take a walk down on the beach?"

I said, "HUH?"
He said, "You know, go down on the beach and have some fun, you know?"
I said, "Well, I am not into drugs."
He said, "Neither am I. I'm just into sex."

I said, "NO THANKS!"

Moral of the story?
There isn't any, but I just remembered that evening. The only, ok one of only a few times, some guy tried to pick me up. Why won't a young thin nubile girl do the same? What was that Dylan line, "I'll let you be in my dream if I can be in yours'"....well, have fun and make some monies.

Don't drink the water, and be on the lookout for those gators who really do live in the Miami sewer system and really do emerge in people's bathrooms, biting them in the ass. Their teeth are SHARP.


Blue Heron said...

The truth is, S, I'm sick and depressed. Just got off the phone with my doctor, he said no more alcohol or coffee, I have somehow irritated my prostate and lining. I piss every 8 minutes now. May have to get an anti inflammatory. Have 10k out on a show and haven't made a red cent. Am facing a long solitary ride back across the country with a plastic urinal at my side. Having a hard time finding any wit, jocularity or an other emotion at the moment with the exception of momentarily looking for a bridge to jump off of. It's freezing in Miami, crazily and literally with overnight freeze and chill warnings - we froze at dinner - my friend spilled shrimp sauce all over my new shirt. Ran up to the bathroom and broke an expensive glass flute on my way in - of course there's no broom so Steve was on his hands and knees picking up shards. We all get our turn at the shit sandwich and it's my turn up to the plate.