Inquired to Middling City news editrix of Yours Truly if cannon balls were on agenda for tomorrow afternoon's photo op as I envision such sailing through the air, passing the trio of flags flapping in the breeze, maybe even still at half-mast for some reason but I argue, as only grad students can, that it should be always at half-state as there's always something to be aggrieving in the world, landing with soft kaflops in the loop in a snowbank alongside the curbs in the loop in suburbs just beyond national chain stores sinking silently into a former wetlands.
Tonight Justy et al in the band sort of named by Yours Truly hits the infamed stage of CBGBs and I am sad to miss it. As in the Shiney Apple just last week it seemed a bit of a stretch to be back mere hours later but it is where I would really dig being later later.
It was a week ago I got the last of the last airbuses out of JFK before the closing of that wi-fi and travel and mag-reading venue.
Today it's freelance org day and later meeting up with Brucey who had to make plans later as he's driving out to an exurb. A rather uncommon exurb but one which houses a Big House. Why there, I queried. After some hezzing it was revealed to meet up with a pal of his who's in the BH for a rather Coen Bros. reason: he told me and I burst out laughing. Brucey did not match my guffawed outburst or cinematic wonderment, wrapped instead in concern for Big Housee.
It's onward to working on freelance matters, thinking deep art and grad thoughts.
Happiest b-day to Ron who always asks that each of his pals do something self-loving rather than walloping him with cards, congrats, cellophane-wrapped treats. And he likes to know what we've all done.
3/3 Ron B-day Plan was this: drive to Starbucks drive-thru, order venti Americano in honour of the man who turned me on to my premier cuppa Starbucks coffee about - wow - 15 years ago.

Historical Love.