Yours Truly is much better with a chainsaw than a power drill, either cordless or cord varieties.
Triple F Ranch: freakin' finger-burning fiasco.
Was told after fact, via Vincenzo, that one does not touch one's screw newly screwed as it results in just the injury I had just sustained.
Then there was the issue of speed versus impatience.
It had probably been about twenty years since I screwed drywall screws into drywall and it is like so not getting back onto a bicycle.
I let others do the power drilling. Perhaps I will never use my power drill, resplendent with its shining choices of bits, and handy case.
Six of us in total worked sawing, power drilling, taping, moving, and the like. And the paintings - now a Polaroid installation and photo depot - is nearly ready for action.
In a lull of gigs tomorrow I have to rush over to Central Terminal and put on finishing touches.
Heard from Julian Muse that he is in the Middling City for a wedding and will be hastening and gracing. And, assumedly, purchasing a fine Polaroid of his likeness.
En route to Hardware from Central Terminal witnessed some curious things: motorcycle club on William Street looking most welcoming, a nice tungsten glow for it was Thursday and that is loud pipes save lives through the MC; a bevy of copcars near Mohawk Place as a band covered Neil Young's Powderfinger and then later on news report heard that a femme fell from a window, probably not a Neil fan; and then after Hardware saw throngs of gothkids wandering out of Town Ballroom, a good portion of them with white and black-painted faces.
Thought then what a fab photo series that would be, documenting the groups that leave venues, all charged up.
Speaking of such, Little Laura realized oso late that Interpol is playing in TO and we are ticketless. I proffered up the hypothesis that someone is always willing and able to unloose some tix from their person.

Ticket to Love, Love.

Consider Yourself lucky, oso lucky, that You did not receive one of those calls. You know, emphasis on those.
For Yours Truly was, self-amazingly, so completely lost just rambling down a familiar road. The latest vehicle doesn't have a handy on-mirror compass. Like that would have helped, but moments and moments later I was still trying to figure and make some orienting calculations from clues such as the angle and position of the sun, the powder blue water tower, the direction of traffic on a thruway overpass at one point.
Finally, I did find a tiny Welcome to the Middling City sign, one of those small green ones that proclaims it as City of Good Neighbors, this one within a neighborhood that has one locking one's doors.
YT is on the Buffalo Rising online site, via an aforementioned vid made by Kelly, who interviewed me about Hallwalls's Artists & Models and art-making in very general.
Unbelievably, YT had no Flash plugin on the supersonic laptop and had to download said e-contraption earlier today to see this vid. Nice editing, but jeez all that hand gesturing, painting of ideas in mid-air. Liz emailed me a nice screenshot from the vid, mid-blink.
Time for installing the Artists & Models panels/paintings, tomorrow the designated day and hopefully all will go off sans hitches but really, something always comes up. I'm sure a future post will feature amazement at how many little glitches were quickly mopped up. Or not. I offered a little helper pre-beers but then thought Yikes, no way, there are no washrooms, as they say up in MacIntoshToffeeLand, at the Central Terminal. Yet. For You can rest assured a troop of dismal port-o-wc's will show up on Saturday.
Today is Kennedy's b-day and I did find him the most amazing thing online, which I may or mayn't mention in a later post.
Time to make and do and wrap and sing.
Not rap and sing, dig.

Wrapped, singing Love.

Decoration/Memorial Day.
The Iraq War stretches on with more deaths, more money bled into this futility. This day is set apart as one to recall the efforts of those who die as martyrs, for their beliefs in convoluted political skirmishes. Or not, if drafted, perhaps.
Yours Truly was attempting to cross the border from the Middling City into Kenmore but there were sawhorses, cops, and flashing lights – a parade just beyond, down Delaware Avenue. There may have been girls with faux guns down there to add to the ongoing series but the cam was not with. So a u-turn.
Onwards.
Six panels completed for Artists and Models installation, one a double-truck, as We are wont to say in the high-flying world of pubs.
And that is publications, dig, not a joint for the big hunker-down.
The panels can now dry for several days before their cross-town meander to Central Terminal for installation.
A workman nearby (I blog dehors) has been wrestling with his matter at hand for some time, crescendoes of cussing occasionally and then, at moments, a murmur of non-stop monologue to such an extent I wonder if the man suffers from a slight case of Tourette's.
As in syndrome.
As in WoopWoopOBoy.
Today would be a Perfect day for a pedicure, but it is a national day of remembrance.
Endmatter (the very name of the thesis exhib of YT) Maintenance tomorrow then.

Red poppies for remembrance, Love.