Consumerism elevated to an art by a Neo-con?

That is what I stand accused of. I also stand being accused of being a neo-con. Hmm...I must say that my views and alignments are so nuanced as to create a sub-category among this. That I am, deep down, a conservative, is something that most of my friends would take for granted. Who but a staunch defender of conservative norms would go so far as to be puritanical in the way his darjeeling tea should be made.

My particular tea fetish is not broken, but full fine tippy Golden Orange Pekoe brewed for between 3-4 minutes in a ceramic teapot (pre-warmed of course, by 10-15 seconds of hot, not merely warm, water). The time variation allows for the variety in the taste of my morning tea. Oh - I almost forgot. It has to be First flush too. The second flush is not as delicate. Rather like comparing real Japanese food to Fusion sushi dished out in the US. Good flavors both - but that delicate touch is lost in the second. That ephemeral feeling that elevates that moment of your existence to ecstasy. Yes. I am this passionate about everything. My likes and, quite unfortunately, for me and all those around, my dislikes as well.

But to come back to whether I am a conservative? Why a label? And if any should be applied, I liked the definition by a friend the other day. He said that I (meaning me) was someone who was conservative only about the core issues of the conservatives that really matter (or what he and I thought really mattered)- power, the economic system etc. while supporting the liberal issues
like gay marriage and abortion. Not because we are gay or want to encourage abortion. But simply because we are that conservative about the freedom of individual choice. Or, as he put it, "because those issues don't really matter and are like just these frills - good to have, but not essential and can be managed without"

As for raising consumerism to an artform - I plead guily. But I want to help spread the philosophy. Not mere consumerism. But settling for nothing less than the best. Not the best by anyone else's decision - but your own judgment. Knowing exactly what you like and then going after that with a single minded obsession - only that your obsessions are a thousand things, a million experiences.

An art novice. A planned hurried tour of London's sights and sounds that got cut short by more than half by an unexpectedly long stop at the Tate Modern. Being captivated by the first Mark Rothko and Yves Tanguy I'd seen. Never before had I heard of these artists. Yes, you might say that I was not really ever interested in art before. But that was merely because I had never before seen anything I'd liked. Not for me the fleshy Goyas or the voluptous Rubens. Hmm...reminds me of another theme that I wanted to explore. Some other time perhaps. No. I am not going to talk about erotic pleasures. You have a dirty mind. Or I think you have one. Or whatever. But to come back to the point, Mark Rothko caused a minor avalanche inside of my mind. I was almost in a trance. But that too is not what I was leading to. The point of going on in such great detail was that very shortly afterwards I decided that I should collect at least one of Mark Rothko's Four Seasons series and any one of Yves Tanguy's. Now weeks or months later, the first reference that I see to Mark Rothko anywhere is this article in The Economist which waxed eloquent about how art prices are going up. And pointed out, as an example, a Mark Rothko selling for ~US$70mn+. Even in these days when the dollar has plumbed recent historical depths, that is still US$70mn more than I have. Plus change.

Ah - the torment of being such an aesthete. I need to live in a city where my cultural consumption can be supported without much damage to my purse. NY or London.

Beautiful women in dresses that float about them or cling lightly to their curves.
Coffee shops with character.
Museums.
Great niche cinema options where you might meet another couple of hundred people who might think that Godard's cinema and Aldous Huxley's prose had much in common.
Opera.
Music.
The superclubs.
And how could I forget - the wonderful restaurants where there is even a choice among still water to match the food. And, of course, wine. Though that goes without saying.
Cherry Blossoms in spring (though I've seen them only in Tokyo).

Sigh. Wanted - a Billionaire dad who'd adopt someone who'd do his fortune proud by exercising every penny of it.

ubergeek, the