a WTF coffee table trilogy: item three
i thought this was a book about spas. i mean, i assumed this was a book about spas. i didn’t REALLY look at it. i just kinda glanced over the swooping, cursive lettering and bleached white linens and thought, “okay. spa book. maybe mom bought this the last time she went to canyon ranch.” i really didn’t expect to be wrong. and certainly not this wrong. wow was i very, very wrong. yeah, so this is very much not a book about spas.
and as fitting as the phrase may seem, this is not an example of simply misjudging a book by its cover. there really is no way to approach this thing that would offer much predictability. i tried opening the book at random to see what kind of squalor/sadness existed between these pages. that’s when i came across this gentleman’s photo, sitting comfortably atop a quote about wisdom by confucious:
this man is part of the palm beach no one talks about? really? why the heck not? does palm beach have a problem with awesomeness? this dude looks like he went on a shopping spree in silverlake before the bottom fell out. so what if he’s got a little bit o’ crack smile? he could be a mannequin at fred segal’s mumbai branch. this picture doesn’t make me sad. or scared. it kinda makes me want to find out where this underbelly is and make a few friends. hell, i could probably learn some things from this guy. things about life. things about wisdom. hell, he probably DOES quote confucious. maybe THAT’s why they used that quote. maybe he actually said it. and suddenly optimistic about this collective underbelly, its characters, its book, i turn the page to find a quote about compassion by the dalai lama and, if my theory holds true, the man who recited it. and then i found this guy…
okay, this guy does not quote the dalai lama. and this guy does not get to go to fred segal. in fact, i’m pretty sure that there are people who go to fred segal to not see this guy. and yet he celebrates life. or perpetually tries to catch a giant, invisible beach ball. one or the other. too soon? i never know. anyway, this picture, above its dalai lama quote, following a picture of presumably the most fashion forward of the palm beach county homeless, trapped inside high-quality hardcover, in a household that subscribes to magazines that showcase fallen or forgotten child actors of the late eighties/early nineties and proudly displays its affinity for brooches, helps communicate the following:
there is no rhyme or reason behind the purchase of any of the coffee table items in my parents’ house. they’re all either purchased or ordered during some kind of impulse purchase blackout/torneado and, eventually, appear on a flat surface where they sit, undetected, unread, unnoticed, as if this was a starter home. but, alas, this is not a starter home. this is boca raton. and i’ve run out of things to say about coffee table books.