And so please tell Yours Truly why DSL is running like not running at all but standing still. Very still.

Today is Ignominious Day, the day the world lost one of its biggest peaceniks, a beautiful Libran man of art, John, who would be sixty-six at this time. And what would he make of this war ever dubbed anything but, disenfranchised voters, violence in so-called art including the evil rubbish spewed out by a studio and written and produced by anti-semitic Mr. Gibson, global warming, 9/11, his Sean's musical and stylistic change-ups, the loss of CBGB, the deaccessioning of antiquities by the short-sighted and so-called directorship of Albright-Knox Art Gallery in the Middling City, and oso much more.

As always, big WWJT questions.

It is fitting that today is an MC day that is bitter cold.
A day without news watching, a day of hunger, a day of working, a day of writing, a day of listening to recorded music and planning an art project for the coming year. And ordering a funereal bouquet for a girl of ten who mysteriously died in her sleep, whose wake happens on Sunday and for that YT ordered a girl-worthy splash of purple and pink flowers.

John's lovely and timeless words.

Chanting the Mantra peace on earth
We all been playing those mind games forever
Some kinda druid dudes lifting the veil
Doing the mind guerrilla
Some call it magic the search for the grail
Love is the answer and you know that for sure
Love is a flower you got to let it, you got to let it grow.

Love Love Love.

Sang along with Cat Power all down the soggy Main Middling City drag noting the smattering of holiday decs. Just had finished a gig at a residential place (making memento-worthy photox) with halls decked but, upon commenting to a femme in this joint working as a waitress, gleaned that not everyone has the same sensibilities of what is (emph on is) decorating.
This was tasteful botanicals, rich colors, emphasis on living and petite trees. There were no santas, twinkly little white lights, sheets of faux snow, overly-scented candles.
The waitress divulged to me and others on the waitstaff that her house is transformed during the holidays and I asked a multitude of questions, utterly fascinated that she even has holiday-themed canisters in her kitchen, and a holiday-themed bathroom.
Then, she continued, her and her husband, all hung over on New Year's Day, pack it all up whilst hungover.
She went on to illustrate for me her various collections.
I was oso curio curious.
And then I thought what in hell does Yours Truly collect.
I have collections of varied worth - both market-based and YT-based.
Cherry stems bent by others, wheatback pennies, bellybutton lint, men made of bottle caps from the 50s, various artwork by MC artists, and more things I just cannot think of at this time.
Onwards to very late dinner and more ruminations on curios, and rampant curiosity.

Love of catlike curiosity.

Nephew and I motored out to the Middling City Cement Coliseum to first bypass that whole scene by mishap of coordinates and continue along until Yours Truly noted that there were no giant sporty lights on the horizon to left or ahead. So we continued along and passed the fairgrounds and then were heading into the hinterlands and then made a scenic left turn and wended along until we could make yet another left and then lo and behold we were on Abbott Road, the real road of choice for MCCC access. We parked and trekked along with thousands of others and thanks Dave Pietrowski for placing us on the 48 yard line behind the home bench.
Of course I sang both national anthems and no this is not an error as today was Canada Day which included their festive and more voluminous country tune. Due to Canada Day there was mention of Stephen Brereton, Canadian Consul Général as well as some Canadian national beauty queens-all three in front of the game-cam.
Fireworks, vertical flame shooter, singing, occasional beers, a bona fide American fun success story and going to these sporty things makes you not only want to sing anthems and such but just groove on the joys of organized enjoyment.
From there a complete swing back to art of another genre and made images for Michelle Gigante's annual dance theatrics and live music. This was the best one yet, it zipped along for an hour and her and Paul Todaro read from Sam's Unnamable. A real sonic, visual, poetic treat. Saw Annie Deck there and afterwards held court so to speak in a corner of the vaulted reception area and talked to Cam Miller and Yes, I said, I would still be interested in doing an arts installation at Trinity. And doing that I will dive into the visual language of those ancient tales told to keep people in order, like a veritable rule book, an attempt to keep the defense strong against the bad things, the devil, the opposing team.
Time to wend on over to edits.

Rule of Love.