I have to admit that I have a certain fondness for trailer park movies. They are much more numinous in the mysterious, fascinating personal flaunting of presentation of self sense than the New York Times fashion pages, which came out today. I also have to admit that I also erroneously think of the movie, “Bagdad Cafe” as a trailer park movie, one which could take place here in any neighborhood in Philadelphia, in my beloved concrete desert.
The neighborhood was quiet today at 7:30 a.m. as Tito Perrito and I hit the sidewalk outside of our Philadelphia rowhouse. I was concerned with allowing my feet to feel soft in my minimalist shoes, and doing a little run and walk, interrupted by a few sniffings of various lamp poles and found objects. By the time we got to the coffee shop a few blocks away, me clutching my weekend NY Times and Tito ready to have a little rest, I woke to the fact that someone(s) were going to see what I had on, the clothing ornamental presentation layer was going to be on display.
I wasn’t all that concerned that I was going to show up without posture/structure, because I had been paying attention to getting spring in my step, alert, with tonic postural systems activated.
However, I quickly glanced around the coffee shop to see if anyone would notice that I had my fake fur hat on wrong side out. The hat does show that I wear it like that, some wrong-side threads stick out, but I keep forgetting to trim them, and the hat is just too small right side up. I was carrying my ceramic World of Warcraft design cup, and had 2 layers of scarves on along with an old denim jacket, some black slacks that had the pocket only a little ripped, and some Argentinian leather gloves still good after 15 years of almost constant wear. Tito had been brushed, my quick check of the various told me the baristas I liked were there and that others were seemingly unconcerned since my age makes me invisible: we would probably not get thrown out of the coffee shop, or kindly told that we could bring in our shopping cart. (Just kidding, folks.)
Back in the NY Times, reading along about the exhibition of Cindy Sherman’s personal presentation photographic works at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City, I was struck by her “None of the characters are me” (speaking of her hundreds of constructed personas) ….”they are everything but me. If it seems too close to me, it’s rejected.”
What is happening here? Shall we say, Liar Liar Pants on Fire? Out of all the hundreds of photos of herself, there must be some truth somewhere…and yes, we see another self portrait at the top of the page, a trailer park girl, a little sluttish in her t-shirt, ready to jump on her motorcycle but impeded seriously by two-fisted blackness and a calculating look at the neighbors. Perhaps she will get the stuffing beat out of her soon, with only camera clicks for defense.
At least she doesn’t have on pointy toed shoes, these look like very biker chic, no bunions for her.
Presentation layer thoughts humming, I thought about Chris Amodeo, a fabulous Rolfer who lives in Southern California. Here is his new video: http://rolfmeamodeo.com/ Is his head cold?
Here is Granny as Rolfer, one of my videos: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EiOdgpCnuHI In one of my upcoming videos, I will wear the wrongside out hat.
If you buzz through other Rolfing sites you will see some people who are having fun with their presentation layers. It is kind of a mark of honor for me that I once lost some clients because they didn’t like my Crown Vic Ford with the intimidator fender. I plan to do better though, I just cut the loose threads off the hat.