LeftoverZ
Sunday 9/31 was the day that we hit up some festivals. The first one, Swerve Festival was all in the nature of fun and art and music and cool shit like that. It was held at Barnsdall Arts Park in Los Feliz. Here is what occurred there and just a little bit before we actually got there…
Well the first thing that happened was that we went to park in the lot that was right in front of the park, but it didn’t seem like it was going to happen for some reason. There was a security guard there who was VERY informative and told us that we could park at El Kaiser Permanente parking garage for no money and then there was a little path that lead up to the park (it was on top of a large hill). INFY wanted to tip him like $20 bucks just for being helpful but then we remembered that we weren’t even rich as we drove by the bicycle valet and out of the lot.
We then park on floor #1 of Kaiser’s Hospital Palace. We take the elevator to the roof at INFY’s insistence. There is nothing up there but an indication of where we actually need to go because you can see a lot of things from the roof so we just peered over it and figured it out. Then INFY climbed a ladder, which was kind of scary but he reminded me that we were already at the hospital which was a very good point to be made.
After we went back into the car and then went out, we parked on the street. We climbed up some stairs which took us to the park. Here is what was there: A photo booth. Fisheye lens camera and little printer which printed photos out in a quadrant. Painted and interestingly designed trash cans. A temp tat booth. A screen-printing station, where a free t shirt to be screen printed with up to 3 patterns was offered. A concert venue. We saw St. Vincent at 2:15PM and free DVD’s and magazines and stuff.
INFY and I did all of the above mentioned activities. We were waiting in line for T-shirts and there were some kind of squares in front of us. Going on & ON about how much they hated “hipsters” and how silly there were and how ironic “hipsters” are trying to be. The boy actually proclaimed that he keeps 3 pairs of sunglasses in his car for the different “crowds” he is to incur. He knew, he just KNEW that he was going to wear the big robocopish ones because he saw all the “hipsters” everywhere and as much as he HATES them he needed to blend in with them. But alas, that did not occur. INFY just said, “It is not for you” which was sort of ironic but true.
I just said, “Well… I’ll be”. And that was good enough. INFY and I got matching T-shirts. Both with sharks on them. Picture to come in the near future. After this we went to the West Hollywood Book Fair.
The WeHo book fair is OK…
I don’t love it or hate it. Just tents with books in them. They are not really discounted. I mainly went to see Jonathan Gold (Pulitzer Prize winning food columnist from LA Weekly). We were running on the very late side because we had to wait to get our shark T-shirts which took longer than expected. We did catch the tail end of his Q&A. He seemed very very good. He was wearing a wool sweater and cap though. Which made me think that maybe he had his body removed and replace with an ice pack or something because those with actual flesh were roasting in shorts and tank tops. And if he were in a movie NO ONE but Phillip Seymore Hoffman would play him. They are VERY similar in all regards excluding the ice pack. Or maybe not. I really couldn’t say. I should note that J. Gold is also an alternadad. Bah Dum Bump! I know this because as he was signing my book his child came up with hair down to their shoulders and offered him the last bit of a browning banana to sample. Then I said, ” Oh I think she wants you to try that”. Just BTW. Mmm. Mmm. Mmm. Ertel. Not. Good. With. Kids. Or parents. I’m agist. Just then, J. Gold said, “Oh that’s my little boy”. And then I said, “He’s adorable”. And then I literally cried of embarrassment while waiting for INFY to deliver the beerZ. Then I tried to pawn my signed copy of the book off on INFY because “this” was no longer a good memory. And I am still kind of sore over it. But C’est La Vie Ertel, la c’est la vie…
