Remarkably, just as I thought there was no way I could possible feel more rancour towards insurance companies this transpired. Or, more accurately, continues to transpire. Geico is like a leech on my back, between my shoulder blades and I cannot get it off. I called them to say, hmmmm... months ago, You are no longer my insurance co., I have another, we are done, thanks for the memories. So then they report that I have no insurance to the authorities, which is not the case. Calls are made to new insurance co and to the leeches. Now I have here a letter from the State stating Hi asshole you have no insurance and we are about to not only take away yer license but your patience.
Heard from JR, who I had presumed dead. Well no, and let this be a lesson to You, that even mentors need breaks. JR was hiding out, having a proverbial breather.
I am off now to shoot giants in kilts tossing heavy objects in a controlled environment - ie the Scottish Festival and Highland Games. Then onwards to a wedding.
From plaid skirts to synchronized nylon dresses.
Just another Perfect Day.

Love of Perfection.

On the L&I Express reached the Shiny Apple in what seemed to be mere hours despite a pitstop at a pie joint called Bingham's. Pies of all colors and Yours Truly exclaimed Beautiful. Had a massive turkey cobb salad, extra bacon, giving props to my roadtrip fav, salty and sinewy jerkey. When there's no time to arrest travel for jerkey strips, bacon must suffice. And that's my hot travel tip du jour.
Meeting in several hours with Thomas Werner to show and tell - stills and video. Bought a blazing firewire external DVD burner to discover that my rissa-rassa startup disc is stuffed to the rafters so it's burning off tiffs, jpegs and the like.
It's going to rain in the Shiny Apple so out will come the $3 umbrella and the digvid camera to capture and render drops dropping like so many dropper drips.
From the highbeams of angels to drops of water in the urban centre of the universe.
Finished a few articles about Vincent's Brown Bunny this morning, reading that is. My journalism pen is resting at the moment. He, with assistance from filmmaker Kenneth Anger (creator of Lucifer Rising, just turned on to me via Kennedy, the soundtrack, not images but I did read about them and they do seem alligned with my minimalism) foisted a curse upon a critic who shall not be named. But, more shockingly, pretty (and balding) boy Gallo admits to not having read a book, ever. That is just something one should so not admit in this non-voting and non-reading apathetic age. And from a man who is an obsessive non-delegator.

Delegations of Love.

With the assistance of Kennedy delivered an artwork so metaphorical, musty and engigmatic to Tom the Auto Guru. Whereupon he grabbed power tool and installed in a most appropriate Zen-like fashion, pell-mell to hell with measurements and the like. And there it is for all the customers to see: disembodied head floating over a Mt. Fuji-like mountain as a red and passionate cloud roils over the head. It is a sight.
Afterwards a French, vraiment, joint nearby and then on to do some filming of angels' high beams in the Basilica, resting point of Rt. Rev. Fr. Nelson Baker. Dead soon-to-be-saint, en route to canonization and resting amid a grotto in Lackawanna. Filmed the marble and passages of light and bursts of shadow and am thinking, previsualizing, a fast clippy loop of high beams and light beams. Titleism, the first step in my conceptual art practice. Title. Idea. Execution. Edit. And freakin' voilà.
Conceptual Love.

Apparently, according to Gary's message, all my faved Boy Colleagues are down at the dismal and former glorious Central Train Terminal of the Middling City shooting away, merrily. What. They are shooting all the naked MC residents collectively posing for a new image by Spencer Tunic, or howmever it's spelled. And I am so not there, just having nearly completed my list of properties to hit for the next Secrets of Allentown book (my third consecutive year as shooter) and then now onwards to shoot the nuptials of pal Donnie and Heidi in the Delaware Park, MC's version of Shiny Apple's Central Park. In keeping with Centrality as theme du jour.
Received correspondence from Loomis who is heading back east, she thinks, after a school-related indiscretion involving a lyrical poem. Suggested strongly she think of relocating upstairs from Yours Truly. Home of Succour.
Back to Shiny Apple most expediently this week for a few short days, mainly to show work to Thomas Werner of TW Gallery, where I showed a print at his Chelsea joint this summer. He sat in on my endcrit and was most positive and wants to See.
Then to meet with JR and strategize technically for the fall and beyond. To draw, states JR, electronically, the moments in time on timeline of software to tell or not tell a story. With my new technique I see many moments ahead. Some black & white and some figurative. And all very compellingly gorgeous. To state so my art self.
Onwards to readying.
Onwards to image making.
Onwards to doing in the hot hot sun.
A fan of all the above but not the hot hot.

Not hot love.