Saturday, December 14, 2002

I travelled this week and discovered that many servers are not compatible with that of Blogger, the SF-based wonder that makes epinw a reality, a major joy in your life.
So that means intrepid me wished to blog only to get a sad sorry message saying Nope.
Was shocked and stunned to read on that Moby of all little bespectacled fuckers was coldcocked outside of a Boston club by three thugs. Poor Moby, on his blog he writes that he wants to know the reason why why why and that he's curious so would the assailants please write to him to let him know.
I think he'll turn it into a song and then sell it perhaps to Bandaid or the makers of Bactine. The headline for the Moby bashing story was surprisingly hip: We are all made of Scars
Last night jetted back into the Middling City, raced home, ditched luggage for camera gear and was back out the door in record time to attend a group art opening for yours truly et al and to go to the annual drunkfest that is the work holiday cocktail party where sushi, laughs and booze flow like melted snow in May.
The rooms were teeming with a whole buffet of favored people that I work with and who were guests of those who I work with and just regular neato people who should be at the party.
At the art opening I invited all the remainders to be my posse and attend the work fete and they all showed. Most excitingly was the arrival of a tv guy and his artist girlfriend (both friends) who handed me a Happy Kwanzaa present and lo and behold inside was the mini crossbow that I encouraged him to buy this past year at the ARTVOICE Street Festival for $10 and it was a minor regret all those days.
And now it's mine.
It shoots steel-tipped long darts. The party host and hostess, Betsy & Craig (or Cretsy and Baig, if you've had several)_would not let me shoot it in their kitchen, at a wall.
Several people in the kitchen marveled than anyone would give Yours Truly a crossbow of any size.
Did I mention it's mine?
So instead me and some rock boys cocked the thingamajiggie back and loaded up the crossbow with mini carrots which flew about fifteen or so feet at a not very high velocity but it was satisfying enough.
Onwards to recuperation and more mayhem.
All of my crossbowed love.

No comments: