New Haven, CT

Burnt my tongue on some hot chocolate yesterday morning.  Not a good way to

start a Monday.



I spent the weekend being wined and dined by a lighting company.  At the

last minute the two guys in our office couldn't go, so me and this other guy

went in their place.



A lighting company, Elliptipar (I figure I owe them a little plug), flew us

out to New Haven, CT, fed us filet mignon so soft you could cut it with a

butter knife, then let us drink all we wanted before retiring to get up at

7am.  It is really interesting because when you are at their factory, you

can't go anywhere.  So you're stuck listening to all these men in bad suits

try to brainwash you into feeling that their products are the best.  Of

course they do it all in the name of 'lighting education', but by giving

people hats to wear, pens and business card holders with the company's name

on it, the attempt is to subliminally scar your brain with this company's

name.



The funniest part is to watch how at the beginning they asked everyone to

say the company slogan together, "There is no equal".  After a less than

stellar response from the audience, they made us say it again, and again. 

By the end of the day, MF's were shouting that shit, "THERE IS NO EQUAL!" 

.... hilarious shit.



New Haven is where Yale is located and so when they took us to eat we went

to all of these Ivy Leage private club type places to eat.  Almost all of

the waitstaff was black or mexican, there were all these paintings of old

white guys on the walls, and rooms where men were gathered drinking scotch. 

Walking around the campus, it really FELT like it was an Ivy league school. 

Everything just wreaked of old money.  It was like, noone here needed

financial aid.  I'm sure that's not the case, but that's what it felt like.



Anyway, so there were these images of people I had never heard of these guys

painted adorning all of the walls in this club.  I wonder at what point in

life do you deem it appropriate to sit for hours on end to have your own

image painted.  Is this something that others decide and pay to have done

for you?  Or do you reach a point where you say to yourself, "I should have

my portrait done"  I realize it speaks to some old English tradition, but it

was weird to be in a place where people still do that sort of thing.



Now that I think of it, I have had my portrait done.  My grandfather had all

of his grandchildren drawn by a street artist in New Orleans.... but I don't

think that really counts.  Everytime I go down to my grandparents I see this

image of myself at the age of 12 with a part cut into my head.  I think

that's how my grandfather still sees me sometimes.



After all the lighting brainwashing, I shot down to New York for a day to

catch up with some people, some new architecture, and we basically walked

Manhattan in a day.  More on New York later.



-c



CD of the moment: Red Hot & Riot