West Hollywood Post office...newly-named; 69 anyone?

Thought somethin' wuz up!

At the West Branch of the Los Angeles Postal Office - where I rent a private mailbox - the clerks were fussin' about the past week.

Uh-huh.

Spanking new letter boxes were installed out front on the postage-sized lot, just a scant couple of days ago, in an aesthetically-pleasing fashion.

Then, the curb near the entrance of the Postal outlet was slapped with a pristine shade of white paint to upgrade a welcome "temporary parking" zone where patrons can "stop and drop" correspondence ready to go out with the evening batch of mail.

When that task was completed to satisfaction, a posse of postal workers then proceeded to inflate sassy sprays of festive balloons inside the front foyer, while another illustrious gaggle of staffers erected a new sign on the stone facade street-side under a mysterious drop cloth out-of-view.

Later, officials ceremoniously announced at a festive press conference, that the Los Angeles West Branch of the Post Office (situated in what is affectionately known as gay gulch) would henceforth be known evermore as the West Hollywood Postal Service.

Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?

But, not everyone was filled with joy at the unveiling.

"I'd almost given up," confessed City Councilman Jeffrey Prang. "It's been a lengthy process."

In fact, the whole snafu had been causing a lot of inner angst for residents of West Hollywood (Boys Town), a city which was incorporated back in 1984.

In spite of its youth, the origins and boundaries of the city are a mystery to most.

However, the few who caught the feature film - LA CONFIDENTIAL - are keenly aware that this neck of the woods has been notoriously sounding off for a few decades. Indeed, the square-mile town was sort-of an "outlaw" dig in the olden days - where anything went - and probably did.

For years, West Hollywood City Officials sought to have the West Branch named in honor of the infamous enclave. If anything, to at least resolve what was perceived by many, as a growing identity crisis. But, to no avail.

Indeed, the process dragged on for so long that City Counsel members figured the request must have "gone for lost" in the dead letter box in a remote part of the U.S. Post Office in downtown LA LA LAND somewhere.

But finally, the powers-that-be gave their blessing.

Ironically, I find it curious that a neighborhood predominantly known for being populated by socially active gay men has a zip code (90069) that ends in a tantalizing number "sixty-nine".

After all, the scintillating numbers are often associated with a kinky sexual act enthusiastically engaged in by those of a same-sex persuasion. I gather!

Yes, getting male - um, mail - "franked" in West Hollywood has an entirely different twist to it!

It's highly doubtful Uncle Sam raised any bone of contention over it.

By the way, a number of elected officials from the West Hollywood City Council were on hand for the ubiquitous unveiling.

In the midst of the hoi polloi, for instance, the West Hollywood Mayor - John Duran - was inclined to mingle.

In a moment of levity, he quipped with a wide smile,

"I'm not the Mayor of Los Angeles."

We know that, John.

That Mexican guy - with a name that starts with "Villa" - throws up his feet on the desk downtown at City Hall around siesta each day, not toi.

A day later - long after the fanfare has subsided - the changes don't appear to have been that earth-shattering, though.

The Post Office is a tidier-looking structure, tarted up in an eye-catching shade of ultra-marine blue with an oh-so-subtly highlighted accent trim which is beguiling, for sure.

And yes, the premises now boast a well-manicured flower bed which push up colorful pansies which add a freshness to the once run-down lot which had been an eyesore for years.

But, some things never change.

Mail I was expecting a couple of days ago has yet to nosey its way into mailbox - in spite of the fact I was assured by a contractor - "the check is in the mail".

Oh well, the U.S. Postal service is not called "snail mail" for no good reason!

50,000 beds...intriguing Art Exhibit

Of course, a handful of Hotel rooms have become landmarks because some debauched rock star once trashed the place.
Others have piqued public curiosity because of a mysterious guest.

And, there are those shady out-of-the-way Inns that anonymous couples seek out, where they can engage in a secret tryst far from the prying eyes of nannies, private dicks, and the like.

Who can forget the tawdry scene in LA Confidential when actor Danny DeVito's character busts in on an unsuspecting couple to snap photos for a trashy tabloid rag?

Many celebrities lodge at the Chateau Marmount or the low-key Sunset Marquis where privacy is key.

Keanu Reeves was known to have foregone on his own digs in his youth for a suite at a local hostelry while his personal effects remained locked safely in storage.

Meanwhile, Warren Beatty probably had the fanciest bachelor pad in Tinsel town in the Penthouse at the Beverly Wilshire in his wild tomcat days.

But, of course, reputable Hotel chains fulfill a purpose for a handful of others: businessmen on the road, flight attendants on lay-overs, and the tourist trade.

In a bold-faced effort to shed some light on the mysterious goings-on in Hotel Rooms around the Nation, a group of conceptual artists fathomed up a gallery exhibit - "50,000 beds" - which shed an insightful light on the Hotel "culture".

The stand out show was a collaborative effort involving 45 artists, 30 Connecticut Hotels, and a handful of the State's Art Institutions (the Aldrich Contemporary Art Museum in Ridgefield, Real Art Ways in Hartford, and Artspace in New Haven).

Artist Chris Doyle shipped off artists to the participating Hotels, Motels and Inns, with the provisio that they shoot a short video during a single night's stay.

Doyle is a Brooklyn artist who has been making Hotel videos for years.

Three exhibitions were divided into 15 videos spaces apiece with a display structure for each.

With the aid of series of - ramps, translucent scrims, projection screens, flat screen monitors, and the occasional bed - the structures allowed viewers to move through the installations at their own pace along a path from the nightmarish to the comic, the sexy to the fetishistic, and to just plain weird.

Doyle claims he had no real expectations and didn't doctor the results.

Some artists focused on the physical elements of the rooms, while others took their rooms as an inspiration.

Erika Van Natta, for instance, created eye-catching photos for a fictional brochure for her designated hotel.

In addition to documenting details like door jambs, telephone keys, and bathroom faucets - visionary artist Marina Zurkow - included animations of human and animal figures cavorting to the "Blue Danube waltz".

"I wanted to deal with the fantasy of left-over dreams and the detritus of other people who had inhabited the space," she explained ruefully.

"So, I just followed my instinct which was to strip down to my underwear and set up my tripod."

Laurel Nakadate is known for her provocative hotel-room videos in which she has confronted strange men in chance encounters.

In her perversely funny - "Beds" - video she appeared on the balcony outside her suite's glass doors and falshed her panties at a fully-dressed man who was conducting her actions to the strains of a pop tune.

"You don't have to say you love me by Dusty Springfield," the artist giggled.

She alleges it could happen.

Gee, maybe I need to look beyond the Hampton Suites for my own accommodation in the future.

The world is passing me by, no doubt.

Mr. Doyle was concerned that maintenance help that clean the rooms might be overlooked; so, a couple of the featured videos address the staff exclusively.

Andy Warhol was known to have said, "Art is what you can get away with".

But, Benjamin Constant took another stance.

"Art for art's sake, with no purpose, for any purpose perverts art. But, art achieves a purpose which is not its own."

In this instant case, which is true?

For more information: www.50000beds.net