Yesterday was the Middling City's Corporate Challenge, the temp tent city set up in Olmsted's Delaware Park nestled between zoological gardens and the expressway.
The annual road race that features about 11K runners and walkers going to and fro on the Delaware Avenue s-curves, the unforgettable sound of thousands of running shoes hitting pavement – thwacka, thwacka, thwacka, et cetera.
After shooting this meandered a long way back to the car through a neighborhood where I saw two men walking six pitbulls. As I crossed the street near them I turned my head in their direction, which inspired to give themselves a verbal high-five.
That's what I'm talking 'bout, one of the men semi-cheered, a reaction.
Onwards I sped downtown for a show changeup and then for dinner with Literal Harold and Sparky. Before the dinner I meandered down Mariner Street in search of a mailbox and then was spotted by Geoff Kelly, who was leisurely doing a crossword puzzle on his front porch whilst having some white wine.
He was not sure about the nearest mailbox's location and pointed out that my bills could probably wait. He was sure about offering me a glass of vino but I had to head back for the din.
Ended the social engagement in the Stink which miraculously has not imploded from rot, either dry or alcohol-infused.
The unmistakable stench wafted onto the street as a greeting.
It rains here in the MC, a bad thing for the Allentown Art quote-unquote Fest that begins tomorrow whilst Yours Truly makes money out in the suburbs that day and next.
I will not be seeing the usuals: people YT likes, butter dishes, the year's novelty item, overheated dogs, mylar balloons, and frightening fried foods.

Love of Festivities.

We shall call the image above Your Pal Nance and Gwen, by Richard.
To see oso much more about Arists & Models go here, Richard Wicka's Think Twice Radio Show/Podcast.
Mentioned in the last epinw post, Gwen interviewed me for this and Richard took some fun fotos.

More more more Love in the a.m., p.m., and A&M.

Completely, utterly minding my own business, for whom else's would I care to be minding, really, meandered into Central Terminal, decrepit wreck much in need of a billion or so in dollars, for the 20th Artists and Models.
For which Yours Truly, as You know, fabricated some delicious paintings on drywall panels and then, with team of builders and tapers and such, made frames for them last Thursday and then earlier on Saturday the 2nd went over there and gussied it all up with some spangly curtains and signage and finery.
Arrived at 10 and the girls had been minding the store.
Polaroid business was brisk and steady and then tapered off about 1ish.
As promised, showed up with fine tequila treats for all the helpers - Annie, Jana, Sparky, Heather. Several special special guests stopped by and these included Julian Muse in from Miami with his Little Lady, Literal Harold, Cheryl, Liz, Michael Niman, and the Pinkels (of The Continental dancefloor fame). And oso many more.
Did not get to see too too much of the other work in mid-stream but saw it all before event in the afternoon, of course. Pat Oleszko trooped in from the Shiney Apple with all her gigantic, inflatible sculptures which brought all 55 feet of the concourse's vaulted ceiling down to a much more humanistic level.
And really mucho thanko to Anna Miller for dragging my workaholic arse into the oat room that Seth built. A real treat and a half.

Yours Truly has been to all but one Artists & Models and this one is up there with the toppermost. Reminded Kennedy of the one at the Pierce Arrow building with live Rodin sculptures and Rodin dancefloor.
What was sadly missing from A&M was just that - a freakin' dancefloor. I wanted to load the girls and special guests up on adrenaline and tequila and do some freeform dance. Nope. Next time, Hallwalls staffers, dancefloor a must, dig.
Yesterday met up with Heather and Jeremy and motored over to the Terminal for clean-up but had to wait first until the Middling City's Gay Pride Parade wended down Elmwood. I caught a glimpse of the ultimate float, looking up and peering at it through the large windows of SPoT Coffee as it was accompanied by a super-boom-box blasting dancefloor magique. There, in all his SPF70, whiteboy glory, was a shirtless, hairless wonder with a single strand of red plastic beads around his neck, gripping onto the float for dear life with one hand and gesturing so dancefloor madly with the other.

Float Float Floating, parades are one of the complex spices of life, even if they do make YT create small, parade-inspired tears emanating from some unknown spring.

Unknown Spring Love.

The images above, for Your complete erudition and amusement, show a few of the paintings created by YT for A&M, as well as an image of Annie, YT, Jana, Heather mid-event. The painting images: bat bevy, a trio of prostitues based on a 19th-century etching, The Starry Night (image shows Richard Wicka in foreground with his usual cam apparatus-he was with Gwen who interviewed me for a podcast of some kind, I did not give one straight answer, we ended interview discussing shoes, as usual), a martini in which two faces became olives, and a lemur (Jana is demonstrating). And Anna be-be-low, in the fab oatroom-2 tons of raw oats and a vid of grain scoopers from The Ward projected onto the ceiling of the fabricated, circular chillout space.
Love Again.