OUTRAGE
Last night had to turn in my photo pass after shooting Dave's first three songs. This has only happened at one other concert, at Britney's Extravaganza where we had to be lined up extra early and be issued a double-sided photo id and turn that in upon leaving. So no new DMB sticker for the iBook. Pourquoi? He looked good, of course.

Second-hand sightings of rock stars:
1. Whilst waiting for creds and the walk-through to the pit to shoot DMB one of my colleagues reported, most excitedly, that his buddy works at Buffalo Athletic Club and Dave - thee Dave - came in to work out. The buddy was assigned to stick by Dave's side so nobody bothered him while he sweated those handsome beautiful drops of DNA out of his melodic body. He and bandmates were also spotted buying clothes at a mall (hello! personal shoppers!) and out and about on Chippewa Street. Assumedly nobody could tell them better joints to foray for cocktails.

2. Called Dorota yesterday on her cell and she called back from her workplace to report thusly: Jason, who works at Michael Werner Gallery a stone's throw from the Met saw Johnny Depp. Johnny walked into the gallery to inspect some Captain Beefheart drawings on view. Vicarious joy.

Over and out and time to rock.
Love.

Going to, but not staying for, Dave (as in Matthews Band) at Darien Lake tonight. Finally heard from Donna at Clear Channel outta Albany that I have a big yes to shoot DMB as well as opener - moe., formerly of the Middling City.
I wrote back to Donna that the first time I recall shooting moe. was at the shithole Essex Street Pub back when they were allowed to have live music. Haven't seen the moe. newsletter in a while, a full-colored something that rivals in apostledom the newsletter of Ani, Righteous Report. Opening up this trifolds and polyfolds one realizes in a flash that these acts have a whole slice of the universe mapped out for listeners, followers, merch gobblers.
Last night shot 54-40 at Thursday at the Square, a mediocre moment in time, to be sure.
They had a sub guitarist and quite frankly I'm not sure that I noticed.
Saw Boy Colleague Marky there who asked what the lead singer's name is.
Fer crissakes, I said, go on the internet system and find out.
Don't know if tonight I'll have my fourth annual shot at shouting DAVE, I LOVE YOU, YOU ROCK at poor, unsuspecting Dave. The last time that was shouted by most Perfect Me Dave looked amazed.
Hope the shirts are good, I'd like a new model.
Wore my red one yesterday and Bad Penny's words afloated into my mind, spoken in a post-cocktail rasp:
You're such a pretty girl, why don't you ever wear anything other than concert tshirts, you could be so attractive?
Got a message that Martin called today from Japan/Tokyo/the other side of the Planet, sorry to have missed his call.
Thinking now of how my brain will be filled with exciting new technological information starting in three days or so.
Technology... my friend.

Happy soft shell crab season to one and all! Praise be Neptune.
Crunched the guts out of two of them this evening when Jen and Eric took me out to Bon Voyage to Grad School dinner on a private, desolate patio.
Afterwards headed to the Dicky Betts gig downtown to make his second set.
You know you're in for a surreal night when there's a line of 40 guys waiting to pee and it's clear sailing into the ladies.
I encountered a few people I know, already past the oblivion bend. I saw Nick the security man who I talked with once but who seemed oddly hostile, perhaps his biker braid was too tight. Shimmied up to the front of the stage moments before Dicky and his cowboy accoutrements (boots, hat, band) hit the stage.
Dicky Betts Illuminati Strange Quip 1:
(woman, age perhaps 50, eyes unfocused, reeling on feet as she asks)
Who're you shootin' fer? Oh, well if you're writing an article you can use my quote, use it anonymously. (pregnant pause, mustering up her best serious quote-time voice)
When I go to a Dicky Betts concert I feel like I'm in joint custody. Afterwards I have to go to see Greg Allman.

Dicky Betts Illuminati Strange Quip 2:
(man with really sweaty hair, yes, hair. smiling, shouting, standing behind me)
Hey, who're you shootin' for? OHHHH, are you Nicole?
(where's that secret button for the trap door he's standing upon, I thought. I'm thinking he's thinking of Nicole Peradotto but she's no shooter so I just say Nope).
He pursues this. Nicole... Nicole Parisi? I say I'm Nancy Parisi.
(pause, pause, pause, I'm waiting for the light on Dicky's body to shine more red and yellow as The Tralf suddenly remembered that they do, in fact, have other than purple and bue gels on lights)
(pause)
Is that N-A-N-C-I? he shouts into my right ear.
Nope, that's N-A-N-C-Y.
I am so sorry, Sweaty Head says, I look at your photographs every Thursday, I love your work, you're almost famous.
Suddenly I think this drenched mis-speller is allright, event after he creates a bit of chaos with a carafe of red wine which he topples and tried to sponge up with his hands.
As soon as Dicky sang and played at the same time and I was ensured I had the true and desired IT, I was gone like an Arizona tumbleweed blown across the night highway and a speeding range of headlights.
Snakebite love.

Had a hit & run meeting at the paper on using iPhoto, a consumer piece of software created for grandmothers to email jpegs of grandkids to family members far and wide. Tried to tell publisher that both PhotoShop AND the software I use to turn jpegs into the magical tiffs all beautiful - PhotoStation - have caption writing capabilities.
At the sort-of stag for Mike Groll, getting married on Friday, I met a person who is a techie for the Dallas daily, John Herrick, who switched from shooting to computer nerding. Told him of the iPhoto situation and his response was... I don't think it's ROBUST enough for archiving for a whole newspaper. Alas. So my iBook and iMac have to both be restored and have OSX installed with OSX PhotoShop and sundry other items. Fun? No fucking way. Well then with OSX my iPod will be more than a neat little paperweight... at least.
Johnny Depp turned up in Random Notes in RS (which, btw, I still don't want to get yet they keep sending it here) looking really awful. And they compared him to Keith Richards, saying his pirate role in some upcoming celluloid disaster has him in bandanna, braids - hence the Keith ref.
Johnny, please call, you need my help to get you back on the Shining Path of Beauty.
Off to deadines far and wide with a song in my heart.
Note to self: you need more practice to perfect the Bach-harmonica project you're working on.
Love.

Yesterday's Robby Goo Allentown-time Music as Art Fest was excellent with Robby froclicking about, painting on the art wall with his wife Miyoko and then playing a whole mess of Eddie Money Covers with the band The Ifs as Robby Money. Bongoes, Robby, who would have guessed? Worked through the volunteer logistics to get into the studio while bands were playing all wired up in front of the Chameleon West windows to the adoring masses outdoors - Last Days of Radio and Girlpope. The Allentown neighbors, a vocal and somewhat ornery bunch, should have been pleased that the fest was contained, respectful and not teeming in decibels. Allentown Village Society, the org that runs Allentown Art Fest, had two of those cheapo signs on wheels directing people to the AAF a block away, at the corner of Allen and Franklin - within mere feet of Robby's event. A gesture at non-unity, for sure. The vendors, apparently, usually on that one block of Allentown, didn't want to be anywhere near Robby's event, fearing the worst.
Met a dj from Cali who spun between bands, and we discussed the new iPod. He told me he's going to put his entire collection on cd's and vinyl on them and use them through a mixing board. I told him I'm going to use mine to transport my digital art files, that conventional art students will use traditional art portfolios whereas I'll be carrying around something the size of a pack of smokes... until I make big ass prints.
Speaking of art school, that starts soon. A new art journey, a new art plan.
Love.