Note to self:
Korean "vodka," steer abso-freakin-lootly clear of this liquid in future.
Accidentally sipped some with Phillip last night in Korea Town and am now reaping the benefits of a beverage I gave the benefit of a doubt to, despite its yellowish cast.
Now in the midst of critiques, day number two. Presented my new works yesterday to good reviews and this pending week am meeting with JR to discuss their better, bigger, beyonder presentation = projections on other surfaces, compositing them together to view, for example, three at once, in all their looped glories.
Have ditched shoes, off in a corner, as they were soaked by the Shiny Apple's monsoon this morning. Humoured the Parsons School of Thoughtful Industry doorman (the chain smoker) by dumping a cup of brackish water from each sad, leather shoe.
Back to critiques, back to Middling City and all that entails, in mere hours.
Soju/Rotgot Love.

The Roots's nouveau is what I imagined, pure hip-hop perfect.
Squeezed in a listen this earliest of AM's before readings, ruminations and rooting about in the Academie, and the trek to Parsons and points beyond. As is the scholastic usual, a study jag from 7AM to classtime, in this case a solid 4.5 hours, slightly longerish on Tuesdays and Thursdays when punch-in time is 3. Lest you think all that happens in this Perfect School World is long walks, puffs on American Splendours and a smattering of shoe shopping. Well, no comment.
Blogging from Bowling Green for wi-fi-oriented class, allegedly this the oldest park in the Shiny Apple. Makes sense as it is so south and where did those that lived under Stuyvesant's rule live but down here, on the tip. The tip of farmland, downhome development.
After some bantering about with a record shop boy acquired also a fine fine recording by a Shiny Apple band, Ambulance Ltd. Terrible name, wondrous 80s-like sounds that are all pepped up and highly recommended to my music geeks.
Back to class, focus, studenthood, brown-nosiness.
Reminds me of my classic remake of the Julio Iglesias smash hit:
To All the Noses I've Loved Before.
Love of Noses.

+
Since the most current newstale of a possible leave-taker, muck-maker and deserter have been thinking of what it is to repatriot one. The shoving back in, the shoveling out, of ideas. A term that might be used in oso many day-to-day situs: I return from a voyage and then You get to repatriot Yours Truly. The whos, whats, whens, wheretofors, whereuntos, whichevers and the like.

Upon hearing that the Middling City is yet again at the cusp, or in the midst, of further economic miasma - this from a reliable source this shiny Shiny Apple day beginning - I toggled over to the virtual edition of Middling City News. And what a collection of hard-hitting, pensivity it is: in-depth stories about saving personality-free suburban buildings and the like, a columnist's whining about not making deadline of Middling City-area beaches that close at 7PM while she is a "drone" until 5 and must stop off at home first to get her beachgear and snack, bad slices & dices of wire service stories, loads of human interest stories from the Curio Division, broad appeals and shouts and murmurs to whomever to help save a small-yet-heartstring-tugging condiment business from financial ruination due to loss of commercial rates on utilities, and insipid reviews of The Roots's new one (which, along with the latest Tuxedo Moon I'm drifting towards today) and a restaurant where the reviewer apologizes - apologizes - to the management for reviewing them under the header of Cheap Eats while she delves into her cheeseburger.
Orders to every citizen of the Middling City: get your news elsewhere. But to find out where you can sup on cheeseburgers you must read MCNews. And apologies to my boy colleagues but the picture makers are not the taste makers. And ever the twain shall lie in journalism in separate, twin beds.

Beds of Love.

Sometimes, after a foray down deep into gradstudentness, it is time to head to the more swank end of the spectrum. And so, with trusty day assistant, Beth, meandered in to Balthazar for civility - before foraying back again to the curriculum.
Last Friday, en route to the Middling City and at JFK, saw flames on the runway. Like Conflagration art collaborative project style, only bigger, angrier. Flights were delayed. The news trucks were not present but I watched from the elevated walkway the foaming of the fire and the spreading of the fire and the foaming of the fire and the eventual cessation.
Today, en route to school after leaving the MC, had to wait and wait for the A as the engineer ran through a red light, tripping off a chain of alarms that meant extended concern and locked doors and sitting train and worrisome workers.
But still, despite Americano onslaught yesterday, a freelance gig timeline conducted with gimp knee, a stressload that might have killed one less determined, and about 1.5 hours of sleep, managed to be student numero uno at seminar today. Gold stars are shooting out of my ass.
Was nearly capitulated back to Middling City today/tonight to shoot a Kerry/Edwards fun-raiser but, alas, there are not enough schekels in the coffers to have me running back to the 6 to the 4 to the A to the AirTrain to the JetBlue to the Middling City to the gig. Lather, sip coffee, rinse, repeat.

Repeated Love.

Bicoastally, unconfusedly, for the most part, working on freelance gigs and non-free school. Only one massive loss of personal GPS when I was sitting in last Monday's seminar, fresh from Kennedy/Kennedy and looked around the room and thought Am I in the Middling City or Shiny Apple.
Decided to leave crutches for weekend in Shiny Apple as they, I believe, are more injurious to a person than injury.
Shot/imaged at the Salamanca Pow-Wow half of yesterday and drove down with Neal and his son Steven and ate bear sausage, most notably. Talked to man who made/acquired said meat and he apparently shot the black bear I was chewing alongside the ching-ching casino on the Rez, followed by some preparations and the stuffing of the bear's flesh into casing with other herbs and spices.
Unabashed carnivore, my Libran nature swingin' from tofu to venison jerkey in a flash.

Flashes of Love.