The statue and fountain at the entrance of the West Wing of the National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C., 5:17PM, July 11, 2010.
A nice drenching July night downpour here in D.C. -- and not the violently jarring and explosive cloud-to-ground lightning-and-thunder-laced kind, just occasional flickers and grumbles and a nice and VERY needed deluge of rain. D.C. proper missed the heavy rain / t-storms earlier today so this is a nice and somewhat unexpected treat (since I really didn't believe the forecast).
Today was also a good day at work and I felt fine. What follows is a version of the entry I wrote yesterday on my Arcturus blog but that I am also posting here.
This was a bad weekend.
It was not because I had any conflicts with anyone -- I didn't -- but because I now believe there is something quite wrong with my health. And because I have reached a sort of emotional breaking point both as as regards our popular American culture and this D.C. gayborhood.
The Spanish Steps (or at least D.C.'s version of the famous ones in Rome), Washington, D.C., 3:34PM, July 11, 2010.
Concerning the former, I have been having heart flutters / palpitations and I nearly fainted at Windows on Saturday night (well, around 1230AM on Sunday) for reasons I will explain below. I really need a check up. Concerning the latter, I'm just so annoyed and tired of these swarms of 20-something, silly straight girls, sometimes with their boyfriends, who have overwhelmed the bars and other establishments in the heart of the 17th Street D.C. gayborhood. As a group, not necessarily individually, I find them so annoying, esp. when they get drink, loud, and stupid in the gay bars.
Yours truly at the Spanish Steps at the dead-end of 22nd Street, NW, Kalorama, Washington, D.C., 3:36PM, July 11, 2010.
I was not so feeling well.
The bitchy, self-absorbed gay men are one thing, but the straights are just too much. As for the gayborhood, as LP said to me, I am getting a highly skewed and distorted perspective on things by living here with its dreadful values, its insular detachment from the regular world, and being so cut off from any past or any future -- and all the more so now that I'm 40, flabby, and unattractive.
A small table and chairs and other stuff in the tiny front yards of 2122 and 2124, Florida Ave., NW, Washington, D.C., 4:15PM, July 11, 2010.
This ugliness was embodied at Windows on Saturday night where an extremely annoying hoard of young straights were shrieking karaoke even as the sound system was nearly broken so the din of conversation was overwhelming, and the TV was tuned to the most disgusting and disturbing movie on TBS, and I actually nearly fainted in front of Gary and my friend Jamie. Our pop culture is severely degenerate, vulgar, violently sensory-assaulting, not to mention mostly void of meaning.
No, I'm not going to explain what the movie was about.
View toward the dome atop the National Museum of Natural History and the Washington Monument, Washington, D.C., 5:14PM, July 11, 2010.
I don't know if it was a bad heart flutter / palpitation or a massive anxiety attack. I just don't know. I was at once overheated sweating and clammy, my head swimming in a weird cloudy sea, and my heart racing. I had to go outside for a bit.
I ended up at Cobalt, where my favorite bartender CH was working and I felt better, but I really couldn't drink any liquor.
Dali's The Sacrament of the Last Supper, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C., 5:33PM, July 11, 2010
LP approaching the subterranean walkway (running under what is technically the 100 block of 4th St., NW) that connects the east and west wings of the National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C., 5:25PM, July 11, 2010.
These days the walkway looks more an entrance way to a Las Vegas hotel and casino.
On Sunday late afternoon, I went with LP to the National Gallery of Art. I just didn't / don't "get" the Mark Rothko "black" phase canvas paintings, circa 1964. I think he was just in a severe depression and didn't know what to paint -- and all the subsequent critical oohing, awing, and amazement is the typical art world group-grope.
If Fifi still read my blog, she could comment on this statement and tell me why I have no idea what I'm talking about. Maybe Hippo can correct me of my artistic misperceptions.
A visitor ponders one of Mark Rothko's black canvas paintings in the "Tower" of the East Wing of the National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C., 5:39PM, July 11, 2010.
More Mark Rothko all-black canvases at the National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C., 5:39PM, July 11, 2010 in the weird "Tower" room that requires you to take a small apartment-sized, ponderously slow elevator to reach.
Me (looking at sign listing by number all titles the works in the room): "Yeah, but which one is which??"
LP: "Don't worry about it."
Me (after watching part of a 7 minute video by the curator explaining how much meaning was in Rothko's black phase art work): "You can't tell me these have all that meaning in them - it's just a bunch of black canvases. He was depressed and just didn't know what to paint for that commission."
LP: "It does have meaning. It reminds me of [artist whose name I can't remember]. He's at the outer edge of what I can appreciate."
I guess this is "art" more to my liking ... a gaudy enclosed walkway surrounded by flashing LEDs ... Just kidding.
LP on the underground National Gallery of Art East Wing - West Wing connecting walk way, Washington, D.C., 5:26PM, July 11, 2010.
Returning to my potential health issues, as Kristof has said to me, I need to get a physical to determine if something is really wrong with my health. Ironically, I'm earning too much money now to use D.C. Healthcare Alliance thing -- which I didn't even know about during my massive underemployment / broke period.
To reiterate, though, if this job fails, I will leave D.C. within a month or so of that.
Paul Gauguin's self portrait and one of Paul Cezanne's skull still life paintings, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C., 5:55PM, July 11, 2010
The LWX radar enhanced base reflectivity mode image at 10:58PM EDT, July 11, 2010 showing a drenching thunderstorm moving SW to NE located smack-dab between Washington, D.C., and Baltimore, Md.
I'm home now watching the Monday night marathon of The Golden Girls on WeTV. I had a nice 70+ minute phone conversation with my mom who lives near Glen Burnie, Md. I need to call my dad, too, but I'll do that tomorrow. I want to get to bed early tonight.