Friday, November 14, 2008


Last weekend in Los Angeles our class went to this really bizarre (in the best way possible) place called the Museum of Jurassic Technology. It was refreshingly not-"LA," by which I mean dark and not concrete. All of the exhibits focused on some sort of antiquated science, like potions and elixirs, early microscopes, mirror tricks and strange theatre set designs. In one room small dioramas of trailers and trailer parks had been constructed. They were totally gorgeous-- the dioramas were made to look like the whole chunk of land had been extracted-- the roots of trees dangled through the bottoms. In the center of the gallery had showcases with personal collections from trailer-park inhabitants-- doilies, salt and pepper shakers, bandanas, etc.

The way I've been living places has been in this same sort of pick-up-and-go way ever since leaving home for college. I mean, I'm not even sure I can count the number of times I've had to siphen through the things I own according to their worth and weight. Doron gave me a book on clutter the other day and I was border-line offended-- I dont really percieve my relationships with my belongings as one of owning clutter. I embrace objects with little value, but I'm also ready to send them off to someone else when the day comes for me to move again. I've been living on a trunkful of things for 6 years, and there's no putting down roots now-- who knows what will happen once I finish up here at CCA. In fact, I secretly yearn for the day I get to drive accross the country again with a loaded car, picnic basket and nice person sitting next to me. Of course, there's also a hope to find the stability of a place (someday someday someday) to put things for forever. I can only hope that the Lesbaru holds out until that day, when it can finally kneel its rusty hubcaps into the ground and resign.

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