At it again, Yours Truly, Martha Stewart of Middling City's Old First Ward.
Repotting plants - with hot inner-city agri-tips - for neighbor juvenile delinquent.
Potato salad recipe dispensing to Dorota, calling whilst SoHo grocery shopping (no small feat), replete with firm instruction to blend the secret blend of condiments and sundry spices while all is HOT.
And, finally, a quick parfait pedicure while watching Kurosawa's Dreams and burning cd's for freelance gigs and drawing this conclusion:
I don't give a wet soba noodle about all of his Dreams. Some, yes. Some are deserving of an efficient FF.
FF Love.

Golden urban goddess... or oompa loompa.
The question posed by Yours Truly to a gay couple making their way into the sushi joint I happened to be leaving with dear Laura, who had just dolloped some insta-tan crap into my hand, which I promptly slathered on my face.
The jury, so to speak, is still out.
And, JW,Esq., if you are reading this, I may need your services, despite the fact that you're the high-test corporate attorney that you are, well, in between bouts of music fests and the like.
Beth and I delved into some role-reversal this fine evening that went something like this:
Beth: Oh, I am so hungry.
YT: Fercrissakes, eat something.
Beth: But I don't know what to eat...
YT: Guacamole, it has all the food groups - lemon, avocado, cucumber for dipping and salt. It's perfect.
Off I go to make others happy via my photo vision.
Visionary Love.

Apparently, according to a strange man who called my rez, my image Street Lock Lady won honorable mention in the ASMP National Photo Contest. This same day that that venerable Middling City org, Albright-Knox Art Gallery jettisoned me from their WNY ranks. The good, the bad. The yay, the nay. The heyYEAH, the fuck you.
Promised Marlene that I'd head over to the ER as I think the bug that flew into my left ear is nesting there but I am not sure. Rich at the most recent gig's venue fetched a flashlight and gave a look.
To ER or not to ER.
But first a vino date with Liz and Cheryl.
First things first.
First and thirst for love.

One of the weekend's highlights, to be filed under s - as in stealth - was hanging with a certain cadre of jazz guys post-gig and then the sighting of a, now, what is the correct term, little(r) person. It was the gathering of Imperial Courts, the annual Middling City Coronation Ball. And I was not there to document it, as I had for 15 years, but to get glances of be-tiarad and tuxed-out and leathered-out attendees, post haste. As I had my Olympus 5050 in my hands (a stealthy bit of equipment) I suddenly thought it a great idea to follow the little(r) person about. Through the lobby, into elevator, even up to her room's door. All stealthy. The images are a study in patience, composure, littleness.
That same evening talked with Scott V about being in a laptop band and we are going to give it a whirl.
Have a great name, a name I discovered on the pages of the 12-page West Side Times, in the Crime Blotter section: Knife Call
A good band name = half the ol' battle. And this is a primo one.
What exactly is a laptop band (really, I prefer MAC band) and what does one sound like.
Today I meet up with Pam, a Middling City rez, to discuss, hash, rehash the comings and goings of our recent Parsons School of Law class. And oh, so much more.
Knife Call Love.