Joyeux Pugilanteux!
Happy Boxing Day!
Told that to a fellow restaurant regular/eater today who immediately put up his dukes.
I mean really.
Off to the annual Boxing Day fete at Matt's loft tonight, a candlelit affair with old-timers and creative types, picturesquely across the way from the wedding-tiered Niagara Mohawk building.
Six days until 2004 and the whiff of new promise(s), skangly-assed behaviour and attendant "hang-over" (and hopefully not police record), well-wishings and pro party-hops.
Shooting tomorrow includes a second wedding at a country club for a pair who hired me sight and portfolio unseen. Simply on the rec of one of their pals.
Now that is trust.
Trust and parties are the spice of life.
Mulled (not nulled) love.

Wondering if Mary Ramsey (yes mary ramsey... a palyndrome or howmever it's spelt) is in the Middling City to viola the night away on Electric Avenue, site of the tucked-away church I think named for Saint Stephen. Where I'd go C-Mas Eve to hear Mary and simultaneously marvel at the old lady's cotton candy hair with the inserted plastic poinsettia, annually. How did Mary play so angelically. How did that woman keep that plastic foliage anchored so solidly.
Trespassed on some man's property and he took note of me videotaping away as he drug his groceries from his 4x4 to his home. Stopping once in a while to marvel at the artsy type filming or whatever in hell she was doing on his soggy front lawn, aiming towards the mysterious sign, the half-dead grain elevators off in the distance.
As John Lennon says:
And so it is Christmas, and what have you done.
Difficult holiday love.

As I was reconfiguring my "work" "space" and located it, I slathered MAC's "Blade" upon all 10 of my fingernails. Oso smart, sassy, holiday fun.
Marty Boratin of DeathRanch fame has invited me once again to his C-Mas Eve soiree, an event that really puts the "hol" in holiday, as in there is an enormous amount of unspoken effort into primo snacks and ever-flowin' champagne, Marty in the kitchen, at the helm, at the oven making ever more amounts of canapes and little hot things, me helping him when I remember to between smokes, gargles of champagne, etc .
It is this rock & roll Norman Rockwell Experience that makes my holidays. Big old house, big roaring fireplace, big halfassed au naturel tree laden with collectibles, Marty/Mom cooking/sweating, a convocation of rock stars and rock types that are such an overall alternative to the family thing. Not that I don't love my family, but my family gathering on C-Mas does not include Jimmer "I'm a Brit" Phillips in the corner blathering about the Good Lord knows what while trying to pull girls onto his "Santa" lap, and Penny "Bad Penny" Ballard haranguing just about everyone and so much more.
Back to straightening up the space, working on the video, the art, the focus.
For the Love of G*D.

Allegedly, according to Liz/Editrix, the sighting of my piece which I gave her from the Conflagration series (large photo silkscreens of the twins and burning kitchen etc. on stainless steel), stopped new Albright-Knox Art Gallery director Gauchos in his tracks. Thinking this may be the work to shuttle off in slide format for the upcoming WNY show there.

Entitlement:
1. Had coffee with Jen for many hours yesterday. At one point I referred to her pending mother-in-law's home as the Folk Institute. It is one. Where at the tail end of parties people gather together, all hippie-like, and bust out things like hammered dulcimers, lutes, triangles.
Jen dubbed my joint the Alternative Institute, a worthy title. Former doctors' offices/surgery now a home (alternative space), in an alternative part of town (read: Historic Old First ward), filled with alternative music and art.

2. Last night Polly told me she's going to be an animal wrangler for a movie project being shot in and around the Middling City. A great title. We decided that I am a Wrangler of People as I'm damn good at wrangling people into situations that they'd never expect they'd be wrangled into. Examples provided upon request.

Definition love.