Saturday, February 07, 2004

Wednesday 3rd 

I wandered downtown (LoDo: I hate that habit of naming districts like so. But maybe I’m just bitter because Whalley Range ain’t never gonna sound cool) I went to a gallery of cowboy art; lots of them seemed to look like Prince Charles and a much more interesting place full of paper sculptures and a man preaching to the salesman about how God wants us all to be touched by beauty.

I had lunch in the other tattered cover and whiled away far too long reading crap magazines. There was a glossy style mag, I forget the name, but it was full of proclamations that England is the coolest place on the planet. I suspect their thesis is flawed because a) they said the best thing about London is The Darkness and b) they seemed to believe everyone wears big pink dresses and clumpy shoes and has yellow hair. Oh I wish!

The bus had been involved in an accident on the way downtown, so I got out and walked instead of waiting for the next bus (its true about people seldom walking. I’ve been informed that, and my reluctance to want a carrier bag for every single item I buy are sure signs of being a foreigner and/or a bit strange) The bus had fortunately stopped outside a thrift store which was having a half price sale. It was like the worlds most violent jumble sake inside, people rummaging like their lives depended on it. I snapped up a dress for $2 because I was convinced it would make me look like I was in Strawberry Switchblade, but when I got home and tried it on my illusion was cruelly shattered by what, Kellie diplomatically said, looked like an very bad Halloween clowns costume.


This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?