Dakota

Struck down

Late yesterday afternoon my nose began to run like the River Jordan, and, lest it run into the chicken soup, I am banned from the kitchen. I am forbidden to touch the silverware or to do just about anything that I had left to do before the Passover ceremony. Oh well. I will enjoy my dispensation (do Jews give dispensation?).

The table is shockingly chartreuse, rather than refreshing spring green. Let's hope that it gets dark before the party. Just remembered that we are supposed to set our clocks ahead today for daylight savings time. Chartreuse it will be, in broad daylight.

Last night I took a cold pill and decided that I would be well enough to attend "My Architect" , a film by Nathaniel Kahn, the illegitimate son of Louis Kahn. He sets out to discover the buildings, inexplicable charisma and idiosynchrocies of his mostly absent father. I fear I infected the intelligentia with my floogy droplets (that's really what they are called technically, but I can't find the reference anywhere), since the pill I took was evidently not of the drying variety, and the theater was packed.

2 Blowhards tells it all so much better than I ever could. I set off on a web adventure in and out of their blog, the kind that leaves me wondering what it is, exactly, that I think I have to say. Be sure to scroll down enough to see the photos of Kahn' buildings.

Photo note: Just so that you can see the color. Yuck. One of those situations where the swatch looks very different than the larger mass. I once painted my house Alaska Canned Salmon . Fortunately, I stopped the painters halfway through the front, but had thirty gallons of the hideous color in my garage for years, trying to find a way to dispose of it. No charitable organizaton would touch it.

Posted by Dakota at April 4, 2004 07:50 AM