A Tourist at Home

I want to Escape

as I have become

A Tourist at Home.

 

These strangers don’t

drink the Strange Brews but

foreign, colorful

Kombucha shots.

 

Come along brother!

To New York, to Paris,

Hell, to Laredo!

Let us escape the rules

of those Phony crowds.

 

We are the new era,

Lost Generation.

Our bodies shells of

what we used to be.

 

Those innocent days,

the laughter at the

thought of growing old,

merely memories,

deeply cut into

Our souls, never healing,

Forever stuck and

Forever trapping

us within this cage.

 

I want to escape,

to get away from the

Madness, Chaos, lost

Phonies whose mere goals,

mere purpose in life

is to suck the life

of Hopefuls,

banning cool tangos

in the summer rains.

 

“Quit trying to throw

Your life away they say.”

Certainly my friend,

I will indeed quit,

once I can make my

Escape from this place

And no longer be

A Tourist at home.

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Burnin’ Bridges

When the war is over,

The alarms are off.

When the blitz ceases,

The rubble remains.

But the bridges,

To many a surprise,

Have not been burned.

 

You ponder and pace,

Do you cross it

To remember?

To remember what life was like?

To remember this moment

Was not always your normal?

You step on the edge

And find it sturdy,

But looks are deceiving

My friend,

And very, very, dirty.

The Blanton

Over the weekend, Siddiqi (my friend who will be mentioned in many posts. Sorry/not sorry Siddiqi as you are an entertaining accomplice) and I checked out Blanton’s new permanent collection at their all day/all night block party. I’ve gotta say going to a museum at 9 PM brings a sense of extra wonder and that childish feeling of sneaking into a place that you knows is closed any other day, despite the fact your eyes and brain are shouting that the museum is intentionally open until 11 PM.

Music from El Tule blasted away at 9 PM. There was even a couple salsa dancing to the trumpets and electric guitar!

 

Photo Mar 25, 9 04 22 PM
El Tule playing in the Blanton’s grand foyer on Saturday night.

 

As you moved away from the live action, Nina Katchadourian’s work could be seen in the first floor gallery. She had some interesting stuff, like family tree of pop culture icons and artworks using only materials within an arm’s reach on an airplane.


The second floor housed the permanent collection. The Renaissance art stayed put, which is an always comforting thought for any fan of the Renaissance such as myself. It was refreshing to see some new items, namely a few statues.

Our favorite find, though, was a simple black canvas with old international currency stuck onto it. We spent about ten minutes trying to name as many countries we could find. Siddiqi felt so proud to know there were multiple Pakistani coins. I was excited to find the USSR coins (I am not Russian but do claim myself as a beginner level Russophile). We were so into our financial nerdiness that we didn’t realize the piece was actually a constellation map using international currency. Thirty seconds into attempting to decipher the constellations, we just went back into our bubble of naming countries. I got to say,  I would not mind spending my money on a museum ticket and UT parking just to see that wall all day long.

All in all, it was a very artistic, fun and great way to get confused about art.

He contemplates. What he contemplates no one will ever know.