(subtitle: from Endmatter, from the piece Three White Moments. The last moment when the critical turning of corner of three women in black is happening.)
A select handful of you epinw faithful/hapless have informed me that your snailish internet system connections have rendered it impossible to see my excellent digvid vlogposts. So, as I had to gather some stills of my digvids for the school's site and postcards and such, here is a smatter.

With extreme assistance from Beth and Chris the postcard for grad show and beyond for Yours Truly was completed. My machine's PhotoShop definitely has some type of buggish tendencies and so that only explains a fraction of my PS ineptitude. At one point Jim walks in as we're trying to accomplish some type of maneuver and I stated I know how to get images ready for clients, I don't do design work. The truth is out - I am not a complete ardent PS supporter.
After leaving school I got the green skirt that I've been yearning for, thanks to underwriting from Kennedy, so all of You are off the hook for that item and should begin immediately searching for other appropriate graduation gifts. More on Things & Me. Liz and Alan have dubbed their garden party on Saturday a bonus pre-grad party for Yours Truly. Liz and the designer(s) at the Shiney Happy mag recycled my headshot (made by a colleagues during his Glamm Period) from when I got 40Under40 when I had a cavalcade of hair. Note to self: your hair is growing out, no more wanton explorations into power of suggestion/scissors.
Went to see a movie around the corner from school at the Quad, Ballad of Greenwich Village which Jamie saw and liked last week. It was a bit sloppy but the woman who directed and culled archives covered a lot of history, terrain, personalities. My favoured joint in the Village, Caffe Reggio (where I've spent many hours reading and writing since I was about 20, when Chaz turned me onto it), was featured as were all the usuals. Tim Robbins is one of the featured personalities sharing a story and he was one of the best portions, speaking of returning there after long years away and being shocked by the 80s gentrification. Odd thing: current discreet gentrification of spaces in the Middling City - old office buildings, train and trade terminals, churches - is not paired with any great surge in population or outward beauty or any type of aesthetic improvements. I write that but know that I mean improvements in a manner that means more care of a building, addition of amenities like gardens and Not or Never would mean loss of art or artists and accompanying possibilities. Actually, that's what you don't see unless you live or spend a great deal of time in the Shiney Apple. With farflung gentrification it's nearly impossible now to find rough edges, something that seems Real, removed from the pervasive commerce aura. I do find myself missing midtown east a bit, sector of Dragon Boy, with smell of river and beat diners and a population largely comprised of eccentric beyond-retirees, but my favoured spot here is SoHo - from where I blog this instant. Where I revel in the still-dishevelled Lt. Petrosino Square. That is one rough edge, to be sure. Heading to Greene Street for a fine Moroccan man-made repast before the trudge to school and beyonder.

Trudges for Love.

Sure some of You don't, if not of the WiFiscenti, appreciate this blogmoment, but I just landed at the Gugg of the Far Rockaways and had to check work emails - another fine op has opened its interesting arms in the realm of freelance.
JW,Esq. (yet another public note for Your litigational self): saw Vito this AM, carrying a tray of fresh fruit through the Middling City's micro-mini terminal. He says Hi. And how was the big L in Chicago this past week. Can't seem to recall if the Pixies were playing it but if they did what was this like time number eight you've seen them this year.
Off to the A to the 4 to school, to delightfully meet with Mark the Shrink who will offer up cogent words of praise and somewhat Freudian and ever-intense thoughts on Art and, more importantly, today, the work of Yours Truly. I have been awaiting this. He helped me to delve deeper into what was the impetus and helped me unearth some influences I'd been pushing away. Like Sam. Like That Time. Happens that Mark and I share a respect for this play for three voices and last week I had a dream I produced (and I think even shot on digvid) a version of the play. I will ask him today if he has any interest being involved in this project.
Showed some of my thesis work and beyond to a group of people yesterday and the response was great. As in digging it, as in I felt that way about the work itself . . . and the responses.
Got an impromptu haircut from Jen at TruTeas yesterday. Mentiond that I was a bit less than thrilled with the growth progress of the locks and she said I can fix that. And so, grabbing some random scissors from behind the counter, she did.
Told her she'd best not tell Jon.
Jen noted that several of Jon's clients and such sport the same primary red tresses, like my former glowing mop.
Off to school to learn to think to blog and read further into the night.

Into, like, Love.

THIS JUST IN.
"There is a solid architecture to the piece." - Mark Stafford.
Just met with MS who had many helpful and respectful opinions for subtle changes to my grad thesis work. He noted that I'm calling it Endmatter, which he liked, though that title is not on the work itself.
Five stars.

Enjoying the Middling City gray sky, inspiring for a day full of screen capturing and freeze framing and the like.
Hopped from pal to pal for visitations, post-school work: Bruce and I ventured to the waterfront to experience the patio of the joint where I held my second and fateful waitressing job about a gazillion lifetimes ago and I felt we'd been transported to Vegas as that was the cheezball vibe - replete with a lady in transparent genie pants; Liz had me over and we sat amongst her lilies which were all reaching out with their stamens and scent molecules; and I rounded out the fun with Deb for a long while until James returned with one of the region's largest grills which the three of us wrangled out of their car and down the driveway.
Made a digital image of one of Bruce's paintings and the painting of a flayed sheep head and other accessories is now in my place, yearning, I am certain, to become one with my wayward collection of art.
Sitting in TruTeas again, soaking up the supersonic wi-fi molecules and about to upload digital files for the school website.
Have to say my PowerPoint prez rather rocks - collided the early grad student stills with early and later digvids.
Back to the Land of Wi-Fi.

Landed Love.

So maybe the burned-out 70s-era station wagon, faux wood panels, was a bad omen.
At the airport things started swimmingly: good parking spot, minimal security line, jovial TSA staffers. The coffee was fresh.
Got to the Middling City airport to see that, as is de rigeur, my plane was half an hour late. It arrives.
We troop onto the plane and are informed that due to some sort of weather system in Pennsyltucky we are going to sit for an hour and there will be a handy update as to our status. 10:00 arrives and we're informed that we're going to sit another hour and a half and then we'll get another update. The pilot gets onto the PA (don't You confuse that with Pennsyltucky ref mere lines ago) to tell us that he'd let us deplane but then we might get word that we can leave any freakin' second. And we know how long it takes folks to dawdle off and on a plane.
I make some Perfect calculations:
Perhaps we'll be rolling away from the gate at 11:30.
Then let us factor in another half hour for taxiing. Then actual leaving could be more minutes.
Then one hour in the air.
Then commuting into the city which can take upwards of two hours via the A train emanating from the Far Far Rockaways.
A to the 4 at Fulton Street.
That would get me into the school's front doors at 3PM.
So, after some phone calls, deliberations, got off the plane with a few businessmen.
A woman behind me was flipping out about needing a smoke, saying that she was Ready to scratch someone's eyes out. When told SHE could NOT get off the plane she inquired as to the fine for smoking in the lav and was quieted when told it was $10K.
I got off of the plane. Called Allen who fetched me when my parents were cellphoneless and in transit moving my car from the airport to my pad.
So, here I sit in the Middling City. Just emailed JR and Anthony to say I'm here still and will be there again on Wednesday.
There are three more weeks of school and now I have the bonus worry of wondering if these air traffic grumblers will foul up all my remaining flights to and fro.
Wondering if another airport might yield better results.
All for now and over and out.

Flightless Love.