Today got to use, in a photographic way, the phrase Look Alive Out There, at a bunch of students nabbed for an impromptu installation photo shoot at Middling City U. They were, I wished, to be wistfully interacting with some architecture and design projects and were doing their best impressions of statuary.
My Marvin story has his the streets, for a look at it online go here.
Last glance the site was not updated but should be soon, in theory.
The Goos/Bon Jovi show was sold out, the Goos were typically wondrous and JBJ was really really rather cheesy... tight paints, coiffed hair and faux XL extra-white teeth.
Sambora was dressed in Renaissance Rock Star Wear - looking sizzling.
During the Goos' set I was smiling up at the guys and Robbie gave me a smile and Johnny gave me a little wave with a Hey, how are you over the pa. His new girlie pal was sitting in the pit with us and the video guys, on the barricade. Also in the pit was his former spouse.
Today.
Tonight.
More, more, more.
Showing a highly specialized portfolio to the people at a mag in NYC on Tuesday.
What specialized portfolio?
Yikes, hello Weekend Project.
Love.

Tomorrow's major gig is to make a portrait of one of the lead producers of The Sopranos in the middle of a reception held for him at the rez of the Middling City University president. I'm to show up during a luncheon through the garage and not ring the front doorbell. Then quietly set up, I'll probably do so in the library as I know the lay of the presidential land over there, have a maid stand in and shoot away. It's to be the cover of a magazine so omigosh the ol' pressure's ratcheted up a notch or so. Then I'll drag his television arse outdoors, time allowing, for some en plain air shots.
Finished the Hamlisch piece and was most pleased at its 1200 words of quip and wit and erudition. Listening to the tape I thought Well, gee, Marvin and I sure did laugh a lot during our 10 minutes on the phone.
Tomorrow night's perhaps second-last stop is at the Goo Goo Dolls/Bon Jovi gig.
Which I keep nearly forgetting about.
After tonight's workout saw Tony Blair on CSPAN and although it's not probably hip and cool I feel I'm his biggest fan and decided that when I structure my cabinet he and Bill Clinton are key players.
As are Dorota (Jason can come, too), Laura, Johnny Depp and a few others as yet unconfirmed.
Off to shoot the annual Holy Fuck I Sound and Act Like Craggly-Assed Bob Dylan event at a nearby watering hole/shitbox.
And a sweet Helllo to the Tequila Maiden.

Announcing myself first place winner of the Who Began Their Day in the Oddest Manner Today Award.
Drove to what my Middling City University editor called Seneca Bluffs, at the crossroads of three sad city streets. A housing complex? A natural area? A brownfield?
Arrive and drive about and see a parking lot before what is the Buffalo River. A crusty old sailor, in vet cap underneath a naval flag on a stoop shouts out to me They're way back there.
There was a natural setting beyond the parking lot and paved area. I followed a path for what seemed over a mile. I began to get worried. I called out to the group of people I was looking for who were chem testing the soil in the area. HELLO.... and on.
No people but on some trees were new pink plastic ties.
I called my university editor, not at her desk, and left a message saying that I couldn't find the group, my contact guy and that I believed I was in a sort of Blair Witch remake.
Left the Bluffs.
No pun inserted here.
Went on to next gig.
At that gig I shot portraits of four well-known musicians.
(speaking of such... I did a phone interview with ol' Liver Lips/Marvin Hamlisch who bristled at Favored Nancy Question #3: Oh, so you worked with Michael Bennett? MH: UHHH, YEA-AHHH, I only wrote it. I mean really, fuckhead... so you fucking wrote it, that doesn't necessarily, I'd think, mean that the writer is going to be onstage palin' about with the choreographer.)
After the four ports had to do interiors of two concert halls. Requested that I get up into the pipe organ to shoot outwards. Drank a bottle of Diet Coke in the pipe organ. Thought, Wow, I bet there are shitloads of music types who'd completely freak out if they knew a photographer was swilling down soda up in this contraption.
Next gig was deeeeeep in the bowels of the Middling City Medical School where I became LOST AGAIN. This is a recurring theme, do you not get it?
You also should know that the medschool is a labrynth of old buildings connected either via basements or second floor walkways and many times when you think you're heading towards a stairway you end up face to face with a scientist in a circa 1942 lab with bunsen-freakin' burners and WARNING radioactive materials flyers taped to the door.
Now I must make a column.
Now I must write about Ol' Liver Lips Hamlisch.
Love, lost and found.

Whew, what a high-powered and eclectic weekend whirl that was.
Still trying to remember the title of the movie that features a driver crawling from an overturned car to utter
Well, that happened.
A Baldwin, playing a movie star in the movie, industry inside looker, his teenaged hookup told to go away...
At a benefit show last night just before Henry Rollins's rant/appearance I was talking to a Middling City rock star who had an interesting perspective on my life. He said When I heard about what happened at the club in Rhode Island I thought Shit, I know someone who's put themselves in that scenario a scillion times and I'm listening, not quite recognizing myself in the thought until the MC rock star says You've been at more shows than anyone I know.
I honestly never thought of that in quite that perspective, that I've seen more shows than anyone but I guess years times nights times several gigs a night does equal possibly in one month as many gigs that people see in a year.
Same as when a pedestrian shooter tells me that they've had the same roll in their point and shoot for about a year. That they don't even recognize some of the happenings that shat from their camera.
Interesting, contrasting fun fact:
Over a weekend, at the frenzied height of the season, I can shoot upwards of 100 rolls of film a week. And that's 36 ex rolls.
I talked someone out of buying a digital camera last night and another into it. The former wanted one to shoot products and I surmised that he should shoot film and have the lab burn the images onto a cd for him. The latter is a wannabe journalist and to him I said Spend, spend, spend, buddy boy.
Off to an interesting buffet of assignments and deadlines both written and image-based.
My caffeinated heart pumps on.