Partly to avoid having to murder Dallas Aunt and mostly because of my deep burning desires, I went on an expedition across LA yesterday. Because I hate driving and hate looking for parking, Metro was my friend.
Museum of Death
When I lived in Los Feliz and would walk into the heart of Hollywood, I often walked past this place. Working at Hulu and writing about sports left almost no time for me to go to such places, and the next thing you know I was back in San Pedro caring for the Grandmother and unable to go anywhere.
Serial killers, infamous murders, war casualties, executions, Heaven’s Gate, autopsy photos, shrunken heads and GG Allin. It’s certainly gory and makes you appreciate life.
There was one odd thing about the place, however. It had an odd smell. It wasn’t the smell of death or anything like that, but it was very sweet and floral as if deliberately trying to distract us from what we were witnessing. Maybe it was the perfume from other guests? I don’t know.
It wasn’t horrible at all, but it did make it that much more surreal walking through the place.
A Rapid Bus later, and here I was at Farmer’s Market. I wanted to go to The Gumbo Pot for their muffaletta. I wasn’t fast enough to take a picture of the whole meal I had with a side of gumbo and some hush puppies, but here is enough of it to hopefully make you salivate.
Of course since I was out here, I had to buy my favorite little marzipans.
Of course the raison d’être for this trip was to go back to LACMA and go through the New Objectivity show. Of course since admission is free after 3 pm on weekdays for LA County residents and it being open late, there was a nearly hour-long line for tickets. But it was worth it to traipse through the exhibits.
I forget how overwhelming it all is to try and absorb everything. It really does require multiple trips.
So now I am motherfucking cultured. Fuck you.