January 14, 2017 (Tosh's Diary)

January 14, 2017

I haven’t written in my journal for this past week, due to a sense of depression.   When this cloud enters my brain, my body turns itself off.   I think what’s causing the mood is the failure of raising money to build the Trump statue at the Silver Lake Meadow.   Not only have I failed in getting funding (so far), but also it seems that the city has, at this time, ignored my desire to place such a statue on their premise, which is the park.  

I even attempted to approach foundations from Russia to seek out funding.  Oddly enough, I couldn’t find any specific charities that are Trump supporters.   I have read in the newspapers and online that there seems to be a bent towards the view that Trump would be good for Russia, but finding a particular organization is tough.  And on top of that, I think I’m coming down with the common cold.

To fight the cold, I have been drinking honey with lemon and ginger none stop.  It cuts through the mucus in my throat quite well, but I don’t think it’s going to help my singing career.   Which is a non-starter because I don’t even have a career.  In anything.  It’s chilly outside, but I’ll go to the library on Fifth and Flower to investigate non-profit foundations that give money to the arts.    The library is five miles away from my house.  On a good day, I walk to the library, but since I'm not feeling so hot, I'll either take an LYFT ($8.75) or a bus ($1.75).   Logic says the bus, but I don't think I can deal with people today.   I tend to be the fellow that likes to sit by the aisle and spread my legs out.  I never feel comfortable when someone comes on the bus and wants to sit by me.  Even when the bus is full and the only seat available is the one next to mine.  I rather he or she stand.   First come first dibs on the seat! 

January 16, 2014

January 16, 2014

Every morning I have my breakfast of English muffin with peanut butter and a touch of blueberry jam facing my street and always that abandoned car in front of me. About two months ago, I saw a young man in that car, but it seemed like he had trouble starting the engine. I ate one side of the muffin slowly and from the first bite to the last, is exactly how long it took him to try to start up the car. After that I never saw him again, but I am reminded of him whenever I see his car, and that happens every morning.

To distract myself from the sight of the car, I started to read Miguel de Cervantes' "Don Quixote," but the car kept distracting me from the read. I could easily remove myself from my seat where I have breakfast all the time, but I started to resent the fact that I have to move and not the car. The feeling of anger in the morning is not a good feeling at all. But the car in front does change, it gets dirtier and dirtier. Also the front door windows are open, so who knows what goes on inside the vehicle when I am asleep at night.

The other day while I was taking my walk I did go near the car. I didn't want to touch it because it was so dirty. But I did give it a quick glance and what I thought I saw was an image of Kate Moss, maybe a photo taken by Francesco Scavullo on the back seat. It was such an odd juxtaposition to me, that I went back to my house and played some records.

Once inside the house I picked up the Quixote book, but changed my mind and read one of Susan Sontag's essays from her book "Styles of Radical Will." For whatever reason I played the original cast recording of "Hello Dolly" with Carol Channing, and something by Ethel Merman. I just wanted something glamorous and sophisticated in my life. 

But again, I felt a depression sneaking up on me as I ate my breakfast of English muffin with Peanut Butter and jam, facing that same image of that abandoned car.

January 14, 2014

January 14, 2014

I woke up with not a hangover, which was an odd feeling for me.  Usually when I open my eyes in the first thing in the morning the pain makes me close them as fast as possible.  I try to pretend its a cold that is going around or an allergy attack of some vague sort, but the fact is I am a huge fan of Charles Shaw red wine.  All sorts of red, as long as the color is red and it stains my round white table.    This morning I woke up to some painful process of writing that as usual took me to places that I didn't need to go to.  What I did need to do is have lunch with one of my best friends Jenny at Mohawk Bends.  Most of the dishes there are vegan or vegetarian, but it is sort of really good trash food at the same time.  She ordered a healthy looking salad, but I went for Avo and Chips, which is fried avocado and of course french fries.

Since it was noon (approximately 12:03 pm) I ordered a glass of Chardonnay which was $9 per glass.  My meal itself cost $12, and I hate the fact that my wine was almost as expensive as the food.  Perhaps through my upbringing, I always felt all beverages should all be in the $2 or $3 range.  Even alcohol!  

Jenny was very excited because she started reading the works of Pierre Loti, who to be honest, I knew very little of.   But anyone who wrote a book called "Flowers of Boredom" is OK with me.  Jenny is very much of an adventurer of body and mind.  Although I never shared the body part of her adventure we have shared literature that was important to us over the years.  I was more of a Yuki Mishima man myself.  I always liked the idea of a writer dressed in an uniform, and if he was photographed by Cecil Beaton, or made into a film by Joseph Losey better yet.  Sadly as far as I know Mishima was neither photographed by Beaton nor made into a film by Losey - nevertheless Jenny didn't know that, so as long as I tell these 'facts' loudly enough, she will of course believe me.  I always prefer the images by Beaton than say a photographer like Garry Winogrand.  Too much realism destroys the illusion of fantasy.

After lunch we went a couple doors down to visit my new favorite record store Blue Bag Records.  Happily they just received a shipment of 7" EP's from the 1950s.  I purchased around 20 titles, all from that era.  After saying goodbye to Jenny and thanking her for the meal (as a principal I always have someone else pay for my lunch) I rushed back home to photograph and play my new (although technically old) records on my sort of new, but old portable turntable.   I can look back today where I didn't have a hangover, had lunch (paid for) with a great friend, and surrounding myself with the beauty of music not processed by the 21st Century.