Mason. Knight Templar. Methodist. Republican. Sigma Alpha Epsilon.
I wonder, when one is on the way to filthy-richness, at what point does overexcited ego masked by feigned humility burst its way through one’s psyche and yell “TA-DA!”? And must one be born with the really tacky taste that spreads like icing over that ego-cake, or can one aspire to that as well?
In a secreted woodsy area (although still near to where our little wealthy clans settled and still do), local industrialist John McMillin built this superbly out-of-context, yet somehow still dinky, cement ode to himself and his sperm:
Not a foundation for the arts, not a school of science, not an endowment for the humanities.
The Afterglow Vista Mausoleum: a circle of “Romanesque” columns surrounding a cement table and headstones shaped like chairs. Symbolism abounds: winding stairs represent the winding path of life (deep!); an intentionally broken column illustrates the “unfinished state of man’s work when the string of life is broken” (meaningful!) Joseph Campbell and the Buddha all rolled into one! But really, it’s just kind of plonked there, has nothing to do with anything else around here, and is dwarfed by the surrounding trees. It is a ridiculous thing.
And just by the by, being surrounded by trees, it certainly has no vista of any afterglow.
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Templar Throne 1; Mausoleum 4, 3, 1, 2, 5; Templar Throne 2, c. 2010
Lomographic Color 100
*Do I reblog myself? I contain multitudes (or, Department of Redundancy Department Redux):
This is me plagiarizing my old blog from a couple of years ago — I mean, Yes! You are experiencing deja vu! Hey, it’s Sunday, man.