"Fruit and Vegetables"
                                                                                                                    Market Day, village of Bedale, North Yorkshire
                                                                                                                    Country Life, Sept. 24th, 1904

After a heady evening of fireworks scattered across the night sky in all directions, it was early to rise Sunday morning and off to Pasadena with my dear friend M for a visit to the famous flea-market there, to which we had not paid a visit since the last time M redecorated, back in his Arts and Crafts phase.  Now that look had vanished, to be replaced with sleek Mid-Century and I had to wonder aloud, while admiring this latest incarnation, what more he could possibly hope to add.

"A white baby grand," he replied.  

And although I professed doubt about finding anything like a white baby grand at the Pasadena flea-market, hope springs eternal and off we went.

There's nothing like a good flea-market with a bracing cup of Starbucks in hand on a sunny morning to cheer the spirit, but in the end both M and I felt as though here, as in so many other areas of commerce, the Internet has managed to take its toll.  On-line shopping, or so it seemed to us, has lured away not only buyers but sellers as well. 

"Everyone's on e-Bay," M. decided in the tone of voice one reserves for moments of betrayal, but I quickly pointed out that both of us were just as guilty of making transactions over the Internet as anyone else.  "I rarely go to book stores anymore," I admitted, citing the ease of one-click shopping. 

"Or bars or public parks," M. added, assuming I meant a different kind of book store altogether, of the adult variety, although I had to agree that here too the Internet had made inroads.  So many people we know have resorted to staying in these days (and nights) to find and meet new friends for casual fun and brief but intense exchanges. 

"And it's international,"  M observed, citing someone we know who buys his pharmaceuticals from India, and someone else who's acquired a boyfriend from Central America, courtesy of the world wide web.  We agreed there was essentially no reason to even leave the house anymore, both of us feeling rather daring and adventurous for doing so.

Eventually, however, we'd had enough sun and fun browsing for the off-beat, the curious and collectible, duly noting as we made our way a noticeable spike since our last visit in Michael Jackson memorabilia and faded Farrah Fawcett posters.  Then it was back to Los Feliz for brunch at The Alcove on Hillhurst for delicious breakfast burritos, and to catch up on all the news of mutual acquaintances -- who was doing suspiciously well in this difficult economic climate; who had recently appeared in cowboy regalia on a non-Western night at a local watering hole, oblivious; who had disappeared, who had lost their boyfriend, house, a job, a limb; who'd just come back or just gone away again -- in short the sort of news one most wants to share with a dear and trusted friend.  And still home by noon.