Thursday, September 11, 2003

Speaking of blindness and veracity in advertising.
onwards
Working at Parsons as that is my wont these weekdays and inundated today and yesterday with Middling City confusion and chaos, oh so non-productive for one who must teleport oneself to another galaxy to benefit most from a graduate undertaking of thinking and art making.
Fi(r)stly.
The publisher of the paper. In a blink of a chintzy eye there was an economic squabble between yours truly/newspaper over a $50 portion of a cell phone bill, incredibly. The incentive to say hello! to a two week sabbatical ensued. This concept was greeted with a big gigantic I told you so (to take a leave from the get-grad-go) from said publisher.
Then there was his post-summer inability to meet with me because of inter-office construction. Then emails were sent by me to set up a time to meet. Today I heard from Lead Boy Colleague that the word on the street is that I quit - my job description shifted radically in my absence.
Item 1.
I am/was/will be forever and ever a columnist.
Item 2.
I am not a photo editor.
Item 3.
Photo editors edit photograhic content of newspapers.

Future: I told publisher pal that I am interested in special features, continuing column and perhaps even being a senior editor with occasional feature writing. No reply.

Dear sweet grappling blogreaders.
This is a time of transition and your openmindedness and fairmindedness regarding me, my commutes, my undertakings, my shifts, my dilemmas and my goal-seeking are greatly appreciated.
Some of these posts are poetic riffs, some blend fact and foe and fiction.
Dig?
All my undying and photographic and artful Love.
You know what that is.
ps: met with Jim, my nouveau advisor who fucking rocks. He told me to distill my ideas down to five items. Still and distill. Be still, no way. Knowing his audience/me he gave me a big categorical metaphor in terms of musical genres. And, dig this, I dug it down to its note-addled core.

Monday, September 08, 2003

Saturday, as I posed a wedding couple on a V-Rod Harley in the midst the of rose garden of the Middling City's Delaware Park (okay by the cop on the watch as he loves - and who really in love with a uniform, the power of firearms and the whirr of power in one's ears does not - a great fucking powerful machine), heard a familiar voice from the east, from the midst of the pink roses in the dusk. Mary Ramsey, my heartmate, soul revivor, of John and Mary fame, of one-time 10K Maniacs fame. I was at wedding B. She was at wedding A in the same dang building. As we were both en route to our respective social obligs we had a speed meeting/talk. Interestingly, just as effective.
Off to document the exhibition of Parsons Dream Weaver Mistress/Instructor Robin at Middling City Art Studios. Had a dream about it. Can I ever have a night of reverie without them attaching to this other world. I think not.
Just re-read Sam's That Time, aloud, as it should be read.
Perfection.
Love of the Perfect.

Sunday, September 07, 2003

*Ding* *ding.*
Muses versus Perfect Nancy... round three.
Just marathoned, birthed a truly excellent drawing - frame & all - for the charity auction ce soir. Based on a b&w print my moi made a while back and, all intuitively, I made the drawing and then checked my cache of frames and lo and behold there was one so parfait and even a decent pre-cut archival mat in there with green inner mat (as opposed to the polymat(h)) that I nearly screamed thanks luck thanks luck thanks luck. And I continue along that thoughtal plane to here:
partaking as I do, lunging out into the energy that is the world, one is as bound to have near-death vehicular experiences as one is to locate a perfectly sized frame for a charity art auction when one is giving giving to a venerable institution worthy and musty.
And tomorrow *ding* *ding* round four or maybe five when I drop another piece to another org, Burchfield-Penney Art Center. Then a charitable break fer fucksakes.
I have embraced an old perfume fav, Calèche, a hard fragrance to wear, but fitting my Ryan Adams-besotted and autumn and change-embracing heart.
Love.