Last night I co-co-hosted the Greg Sterlace show with Paula and from the moment of my arrival at Home of the Future I thought Wow, this is going to be one. . . how shall Yours Truly say. . . odd show. And my hunch was right on, the show featuring, amongst other things, a warbling guitar player with total recall of every time he's met YT (to the point that I regaled Paula with the recent email about one of the Middling City's most ranting weirdos and my suspicion that this could be, theoretically, one and the same - he was not, as I later realized), an earnest femme poet, GS removing his shirt and tucking himself under Paula's dress for an interminable amount of time, and on.
YT hosts - I repeat - hosts the show on March 10th and I think I'm dubbing it LoveFest as a wry ref to the mag I founded and published during fourth grade - Love Magazine. A hit.
I've already lined up a few grand guests and have to speak to BandmateScott about performing on LoveFest.
This is how I described the GS show to one of my pending guests: Kind of a show about nothing. I'll give you beers. (he went for the bribe)
And now one of my patented sayings:
Time to g.o. go.

Going Love.

So things have taken a turn toward Interesting, at the corner of Serendipity.
As in last evening's forwarding of nutty bumpersness of the strange man rantings in the bar via the art student. We emailed to and fro about not-so-fun facts and ultimately, or penultimately, I wrote Let's end this more positively, let's tell each other what we're doing as creative people.
So we did. Suddenly Yours Truly had a fab idea so I wrote the student back and said
Let's collaborate on an art project of sorts
and YT also wondered if he could be my roadie, my tech support for the pending art project in June when I'll be projecting some elemental images far and wide in a historic Middling City church that teeters on transcendentalism (i.e. not too heavy on the schtick, if You catch me).
Moral: make weird and bad, despite their kicking and screaming, be something good, even delving upwards into the realms of art, if possible.
Call me the lion tamestress of beasts weird, bad, and ferocious.

Taming Love.

This just in from BizarroLand.

Hi nancy,sorry to bug you, you dont know me. my name is (omitted by Yours Truly), im a film/photography student at UB. i thought i would tell you something strange that happened to me last night...
i was out at a bar with some friends and had my camera on me. this very strange man who was obviously drunk and possibly more came up to
me freaking out. he kept asking me if i was 'nancy parisi'. he had long grayish hair and glasses. he told me he was a felon and that he
would kill me. he kept asking me if i was you... he was quite strange....he told me that he thought i was pretty and
would say all these sexually explicit things he wanted to do to me, and then he would tell me that if i am involved with YOU he would
track me down and murder me. he tried kissing me, holding me, and then asked me to fight. he told me many times that he would kill me, but he
was clearly not in a clear state of mind and i didnt take him very seriously....he couldnt even stand up straight.it doesnt bother me, im not upset or anything, i just found it
bizarre. i recognized your name, and thought i would tell you....haha.

haha.
I did write this alleged student, harbinger
of wack behaviour (and possible practioner of same) to inquire thusly: How in H-E-double hockey sticks
did you get my email address.
Onwards.
Time to meander off to Foster Kid event #2 in a series of 3 and then
points beyond.
Had a pharmaceutically-related gig today, shooting some reps from the ill-fated
Pfizer Corp making nice, spreading robust karma by tossing millions at
the university for yet another center/centre of excellence.
Philosophical quest(ion): do so many centres of fabness dilute the excellent
powers.

Fab, undiluted Love.

Here he is. Who, You ask. Ridge Lee Larry, fercrissakes, the rodent prognosticator of Middling City U who Yours Truly photographed last Thursday. Note the green grass behind RL Larry. Today the MC is coated in beautiful flakes of wintry goodness. According to RL Larry, who did not see his shadow, spring is a stone's throw. Meanwhile, back at the weathered ranch, down south that is, in PA, RL Larry's mentor Phil did see his shadow. I might add here that Larry is deader than a doorknob, taxidermied if You will, and his chin strap is not under his chin, as he has no chin, but in his mouth. Is this dignity, I ask You.
So JW,Esq., being a big epinw booster, reads my touting of I Will Survive recently and sent me a little QT movie of a JC-looking character (NB: middle eastern, thick-bodied, not a CK-lookin' boy) lip-synching away to the same tune, ultimately meeting a sad end via a big city bus. And he informs me that he's heading to South America. Kennedy and I watched A Fish Called Wanda last night and now I believe JW,Esq., despite the Esq., is running from the law.
Out to a delivery of work, a show&tell of artwork, points beyond.

Signed, sealed, delivered Love.

Yours Truly first recalls writing a poem in the garden of her parents, and it was about forget-me-nots. Today the first of the duo of pomes pennyeach hit the stands via Middling City News. Here's Your link to it.
Next month, first Sunday of mars, is the Creeleypome, printed in honour of the year anniversary of his sneaky TX dying.
HAPPY SNOOPY BOWL today!

Cartoons of Yore Love.

*This just in, from Jerry Mead:
"Nancy - Just read your poem "Valentine" in the Buffalo News - How cool was that... - Could
you become more fabulous? You just did! Congrats-Jerry."
Super bonus points for Jerry!