Just returned from the Liz Phair Extravaganza featuring her, her pretty guitars, her nice boots, band of Scruffian boys, and some odd onstage lights that looked like supersized Ikea items. Deb took me, Katherine, and Karen to the gig and we were to be seated in row G but, upon seeing the empty spaces, I insisted that we move into the front row, center, which we did. What did I learn at this show. That her new songs, like her old ones, are fine poetry that appeals to bandguys as much as earnest girlies and art types.
Before that made some images of the nouveau China art shows at Middling City U's two galleries and one of the moments at the suburban gallery was a performance featuring a woman artiste, sitting in a shopping cart putting on makeup while wearing a wedding gown as eight men in collars & leashes pulled towards their individual cupcake before them on the floor. The strongest neck and larnyx which reached his treat was performistically rewarded with the bride. I got some shots of one puller in particular who looked like his temples were going to explode blood all over the terrazzolike floor.
The cat is angry about the annual turn of the weather, angry at me as if I planned this to irk him in some way. He gets quite vocal in the autumn and this does not wane until spring's melty goodness.

Melty good love.