So when the cleaning lady saw me walking with the cane Tuesday morning, swollen bandaged ankle and all, she asked “Can I touch it?”

The ankle is feeling a bit better but it seems to have tweaked portions of my left side up and down my body - weird, just weird.

We are going to go to see King Tut on Sunday with friends and i really need to stay off of the foot, so i will likely have to miss what promises to be perhaps the most bitchen’ art party event of the year, or at least the Summer.
…But you should go…

Jim Fittipaldi is one of those guys who people mention in semi-whispered tones of awe and respect. He is a guy makes things happen, picture Harvey Keitel in Pulp Fiction with a shaven head and a predilection for art and cocktails instead of burying bodies.

When you are out on the town in L.A., the common refrain of every jaded scenester is What else is happening tonight? You can be at an art opening, a night club, an Echo Park barbecue winding down at at dusk, a movie premiere, a great three band gig at an undiscovered club, anywhere on the scene in Southern California and you will have this pseudo-elite contingent who wander about disinterested, stopping only to query What else is happening tonight? And you want to smack them because you know what they are really saying is We’re hipper than you will ever be, prove you’re cool by telling us where it is really happening… and you are forced to admit that you do not know shit, that you are not cool and that you intended to stay at this boring party until the host kicked you out or took you to bed.

But if you look to your left, look to your right and move up to these hipsters and whisper one word of epic nightlife power, Fittipaldi’s… they gasp that you might be hipper than they, that you might know of the great underground energy source they crave. When you turn someone on to a Fittipaldi event, YOU have snapped your fingers and made the world of the night come alive for them.

Well, anyway, along his winding raconteurish path, Jim has amassed quite an eclectic art collection. He is smart enough to hide most of his visual treasures when the throngs of the afterhours crowd squeeze into his 20,000 square feet of speakeasy real estate. But he is exhibiting choice pieces of it on Saturday night, and I think you will want to check it out and find, well, what else is happening that night…

Art of the Collector
The Art Collection of Jim Fittipaldi
Opens Saturday night, at 7 p.m.
Exhibit runs thru August 13
M.J. Higgins Gallery, 244 S. Main Street, L.A. 90012
Call them {213.617.1700} and ask where the fuck a sane person would park in that neighborhood - I’d recommend the lot on 4th and Main where you can park for like 3 bucks, but 2 blocks on Main Street at that hour is, well, a lesson in life and lice.

Tagged by

List your current six favorite songs, then pick six other people that have to (or may like to) do the same.

Umm, well, how about I list the six songs that have been played the most times by my i-tunes:

1. America is not the World - Morrissey
2. Death or Glory – the Clash
3. Seven Steps to Heaven – Miles Davis
4. Things Have Changed – Bob Dylan
5. Diamonds and Rust – Judas Priest
6. Bone Machine – the Pixies

Okay, now I tag 6 LJ users to do the same:

I had a productive day despite walking around with a cane for most of it.

Ice and a little ibuprofen goes a long way.

Mike Vegas came over to hang art - I am archiving all of the paintings i am holding of a friend who passed away young in 1992.
So he unwraps one, hangs it, I shoot the work and he rewraps it.

And then more ice on the ankle.

So the bet tonight is that the first thing the cleaning lady will say tomorrow when she sees me walking with a cane is:
“QUIT FAKING IT!”

Sprained my ankle.
How? you ask.
Well that is a good question.

I wish I had an answer.
I woke up in the middle of the nighht with my left foot pointing straight ahead, like Baryshnikov. I bend my ankle back and before I hit 90 degrees it is like wake up neighborhood, this is the sound of agony I would not wish on (almost) any of you…

So hi-diddly-dee an invalid’s life for me.
Ever walk upstairs with a cane?
40 years old here going 70 …

My girlfriend is playing nurse superbly, so this is all just for your information, not for your pity.

So my friend, Patricia Correia, is stuck in rush hour traffic driving over from the Westside to teh Eastside to go to a ritzy reeption for a show of Cheech Marin’s art collection. So she calls me and says I ought to check out the party and the art show and, oh, could i talk her througha shortcut from the 10 Freeway.

If I am good for one thing, it is cutting through Downtown L.A. to avoid traffic. In the time it took me to put ona good shirt she had taken Figueroa up to Ceasr Chvez, left on Alameda, swung up Main, picked me up and we drove to the Plaza De La Raza for the shindig.

I stood around talking to people for quite some time and had very sore feet today. Patricia touched base with the right people - we sat at Cheech’s table, I guess Natasha is his new squeeze, she was beautiful and demur.

The art show itself is a nice cross section of East L.A. big names - they are all giclee prints of paintings Cheech owns - he is donating sets of these to museums as a record of East L.A. Chicano Art. His printer, Richard Duardo described it as Our Trojan Horse to the institution.

But the real highlight of the night was discovering that Eloy Torres is baseball fan. So it is my duty to drag him away from working on his September solo show at Patricia’s and get out to some games!

1. The new BATMAN movie is the best one yet.
2. Iced espresso in the summer = proof of good karma accrual.

I shipped the boxes around the country - 30 copies of the magazine in each box - hundreds of boxes - oh thank heaven for United Parcel Service.

There are some straggling subscriber and distribution issues, but I am almost done with the execution of this issue of the magazine. Nice.

I am going to take Tuesday off and go see the new Batman movie and a baseball game.

I was gonna go to some art openings tonight but I ate chocolate cake at an afternoon birthday party and then had chili relleno with my gf and, well folks, these two things may work in one particular order very well, but not in the reverse order. So I think we are going to watch a Netflix thingy later, wow my big Saturday night is here!

We got Netfuxed.
We selected Gone WIth The Wind and have been saving it for a night when we had nothing to do to watch it.
After distributing the magazine earlier in the day, my busy time is suddenly winding down so we put it on.
Disc 1 was great.
Disc 2 was, unfortunately, also Disc 1.

So the high miantenance Scarlett just vowed to never go hungry again.
Don’t send me your plot spoilers. I am hoping my lovely gf will resolve this as the netflix account is in her name.