The Middling City is covered with a thin layer of white hot spotlit snow, a sunny day for the saintly and self-imported Irish parade down one of the triad of main and parallel roadways. As I have homework and lost a full day to freelance maneuverings yesterday I passed up my bi-annual and favoured chance to capture likeness molecules of girls with guns for my ongoing series. And the new Woca, Holga's more ritzy cousin, is bereft. For you non-photogs the Woca is a Holga with a - get this - glass lens.
Talked to Beth Dearest moments ago and said that Yours Truly needs to get art into mainstream and not think of the "Program" where we are all art-directed, making the most and such.
Found out moments ago that there's a check from a mag in the Shiney Apple floating about in same. Can't recall which Shiney Apple address I may have given them so that's another Perfect mystery and the editor is remaking my check and remailing to boot.
Have been missing both Midtown East and SoHo sites and attendant and daily routines of where to eat, where to imbibe the caffeine, where to sit a spell, and more. And add to the list Portland, ME, which unexpectedly crept towards me today as a place to be missed. Thought of making a dramatic and somewhat faux narrative digvid piece about missing places, places that haunt, and why.
I am really supposed to be doing readings and homework and there is big emphasis on supposed.
So here I go, off to suppose and suppose some more.

Love suppose.

ps: thirty days until Sam's birthday.