Wednesday, December 04, 2002

Picked up the two dozen pink roses at the newspaper office. One had a card reading Please be my guest at the HSBC party at Albright-Knox Art Gallery Wednesday night. I shall be wearing a yellow tie.
The second note read Thanks for being you, hope to see you Wednesday, your new friend.
Well, tonight is Wednesday and this poor bastard in the yellow tie will be waiting forever as I won't be within miles of AKAG tonight.
Even if I didn't have a meeting at 4 and two advisiory council meetings for two different orgs at the same time following I still wouldn't be there...
especially after I deciphered who this person is.
And, guess who he is?
He is part of an old money Middling City clan who's a member of all the right clubs, oh, and went to all the right academies abroad, yet chooses to while away his life by owning a downtown shithole bar, bragging about his jazz knowledge/jukebox, spurting out sexist commentary and basically never leaving any customer unattended whilst sipping away on a bevvie.
I was briefly marooned as my pal sauntered off to the peehole when this astray heir leaned in close to ask So are you and this guy close, basically figuring out his chances with Yours Perfect Truly.
And now roses. Gave one dozen away to my mother and the other sits all lonely and pink in the corner of my kitchen and I'm thinking who would like quickly-aging roses today?
Last night nearly threw off an email from a sender I didn't recognize, from the UK no less.
Opened it and it's a Nirvana freak who's building a fansite and heard about my Kurt images and read an interview I did for an online music mag... which went bankrupt... Throttle Box.
Today I'm especially hating the Middling City, after listening to my local NPR station telling about yet more and more fiscal crises abrew, and reporting on a co. that has headquarters here and all the pathetic and gushing questions from the local reporter
So, do you have a hard time recruiting people to Buffalo? Do people like Buffalo when they're here...
the underlying self-hatred made me gag, it's contagious, that attitude. Next I'm noticing that people aren't as well-dressed as they could be, that some cars are too rusty, that monuments don't have that certain X-factor.
But at least we don't have the preponderance of Canadian lilt, after doing business on the phone with a Canadian woman yesterday I thought that forever every thought in my head would end up a few notes in a singsongy reach for the sunshine.
Hey, wait a minute, Canadians think their country is all that. (Oh, Georgiesan, forgive this sidebar rant from an obviously cranky American, who happens to be your pal)
Assignment: anyone residing in the Middling City today must use the Canadian lilt, upwards to the sunshine. And sun is out there, suss it out lock a rock star in need of a little fun.
Off to more.

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