dangerous compassions

I call you / from the comet's cradle

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

not good at art openings

I feel sad about things broken that can never be fixed, the permanence of death, etc.  I was listening to Sufjan Stevens, a song called "Borderline," the other day, and it made me cry and cry.

We went to this art opening.  It's about a book called Doom Towns and features the Nevada Test Site a lot.  It's a graphic history.  I like graphic memoirs and graphic novels.  The art was up on the walls, and the historian who wrote the text, I guess, was there.  But the text was missing, on the walls.  It was art only.

"Are you okay?  Do you need some water or something?" a lady asked me as I stood awkwardly outside, overwhelmed by the crowds.

I told her I thought Ming was getting me something to drink.

"How do you know Andy?" she asked.  Andy was the historian.

I explained how I know P and she knows Andy and how I help run Nevada Desert Experience.  Turns out she's a teacher at UNLV and had a student write a paper about Nevada Desert Experience the semester before.

I looked through the window wall at Ming in there talking to Andy.  I wondered if he was really going to bring me something to drink.  Someone brought little kids including a big baby in a classic baby outfit.  Rich kids.  A kid shrieked.  I needed to get out of there.

Some people are good at art openings.  Some people are not.  I fall into the second category.


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