Del Martian Chronicles

The Alaskan storm has slowly traveled down the California coast and finally found us in Del Mar. Got here with a real bang. The cacophonous rain is pounding the metal roof of the World War II era hangar like structure where I am holed up this weekend with my antique brethren.

I had talked to my friends in Berkeley last night and they told me to get ready for a whopper. Lots of thunder and lightning up there. Luckily I am staying with friends tonight and won't have to drive very far to find a safe sanctuary.

The show has been pretty good so far. I decided to bring a lot of lower priced items that rarely see the light of day and a few of them have been scooped up. I have made some nice buys and I'm not complaining for a change. Too much.

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I have some strange peccadillos about things I care to handle. On thing that I have never gotten used to is nazi memorabilia. Call me squeamish or oversensitive. A man brought a box of Nazi daggers and buckles in and I had to ask him to get them out of my presence. They vibe me out.

I was walking by the dealer's booth when I saw the nazi daggers and memorabilia. Also had a nice selection of beer steins. An older tall and balding man was in the booth, speaking german no less. Selling nazi stuff is one thing, the cachet is even better when you know it's being sold by a real live german.

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Three of us were lined up at the urinals yesterday morning, staring straight ahead as men do, doing our business, taking care of the matters at hand. Suddenly we were startled by several hispanic janitors walking in and out of the restroom, getting supplies from the door behind us. All women. We stood there dumbfounded doing the quick shake but they looked totally nonplussed and casual about the whole thing. And not too terribly impressed.

I had to say something to commemorate the occasion. All I could come up with was the old line, "This water's cold." The answering refrain is "And deep" for those steeped in urinal humor but my latrine mates let a good straight line go to waste.

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The bring the cheap crap that never sees the light of day strategy is good for several reasons but the principal one is the stuff becomes less intimidating to people who run away sometimes when they see a high price tag.

I don't have a lot of things marked in the gallery for the same reason. The muggles who aren't hip to what I am doing would run screaming. Last week a perfectly coiffed orange county couple came to the gallery and inquired about the price of a tile table. It was a couple of hundred bucks. When he saw that things weren't priced he had a shit fit and demanded that his wife leave immediately. I said good riddance. Another petulant Orange County type. That's why I went appointment only, so I wouldn't have to deal with the likes of him. Life is too short to deal with assholes.

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One of the dealers here has been a long time blast reader. I asked Brenda how she was liking the blast lately when I saw her on thursday and got a rather pained look. "Brenda, it's okay." Turns out she left me for Gawker. But she said it has only been a week or two. Hey, its cool. there is no loyalty oath. I won't be hurt. Go ahead, play the field. But please for god sakes, come back!