Long Beach, CA - a recent rumor surfaced that she was hiding out among some junk trying to pass itself off as antique. Since when did it suddenly become fashionable to consider all old shit as vintage, leftovers and surplus as treasure, and rusted, broken, withered shadow-of-their-former-selves things as primo collectibles? These items that even in the past, their heyday, weren't thought of as valuable? Sure I believe some artifacts of the past are indeed prized and significant - we're talking ancient mayan fertility goddesses, fossilized-in-amber pterodactyls, and the ark of the covenant to name a few; however, dull and bent nails and worn out moth-eaten hats and smelly rotten furniture cannot be and should not be sold at a premium because due to their decrepit states they cannot possibly be reasonably in demand - certainly not in demand enough to warrant a cost triple or quadruple that of a brand new and improved version of itself available now. Again, these are everyday items of old, discarded because they are obsolete as chewed gum. Nevertheless, these antique dealers and steampunk hipsters continue to attempt to cajole us to regard these cheap and inferior, nonfuctional objects as coveted and sought in order to validate their usually outrageously obscene price tag. "Retro"," vintage","classic","rare","patina"... A bunch of other hogwash words to deceive the truth of what it really is: used, decrepit, falling apart, useless, trash, garbage, second or third hand thrift store filth and scraps and firewood.
Well, I waded through this sea of crap and found her. She herself was close to being discarded yet again but this time her lofty price tag kept her out of the recycle bin. How many of her lives had she already used up? She wasn't too beautiful but she had promise. She was a prom queen, pageant winner but for the last 20-30 years she's been an alcoholic and homeless, forgotten and abandoned.
She needs rehabilitation. I held her hand to help her step out of her own piss and sweat and paid her bail and then negotiated her freedom.
Then we drove to the actual beach, which she hadn't seen since her youth in Germany.
She has lost her ability to speak for the time being. She sat there quiet, but looked around with curiosity. Her eyes have some sparkle left. But her colors are faded and she has some scratches and scrapes. She escaped without any dents thank god. Be that as it may, she no doubt has seen better days. Maltreatment and abuse is what she's accustomed to and she's been handcuffed and caged. Still, I sense that there is fight left in this one. She's tough. She's a survivor.
Soon, food and water. I will help her become strong again.
I now have my very own Groma Kolibri!!!