Visual Dissonance: Photos of Strange Things, Strange Places, and Strange Things in Strange Places
Several times I week, I drive past a former auto dealership that, like so many of its brethren, fell on hard times and went belly up in the immediate wake of the financial crisis. The building is now forlorn and very nearly empty, except for a lone sentinel, an invaluable secret weapon that no self-respecting car salesman would leave home without. That would be a full-sized suspended gong (or, more precisely, a tam-tam). Right in the window. Facing the road. Like a cyclops.
One is led to ponder: What the hell is it doing there? Is some covert orchestra of ragtag, dissident musicians furtively rehearsing Mahler symphonies under cover of night? Did J. Arthur Rank maintain an outpost in semirural New England that no one knew about? Are Jaye P. Morgan and Arte Johnson going to emerge from the bleak winter landscape and fight, incongruously, over who gets to wield the mallet? And will Gustav Mahler and Jaye P. Morgan be mentioned in the same blog post, anywhere, ever again? Have a theory of your own? Share it in the comments below.
