Just wrote back to PB who tells me he's off the road after several months touring - even to Brasil, he writes.
Now he's back in his art studio and, undoubtedly, getting antsy for the road again from his h.q. in Germany.
He called me schatz and I had to Google that, not sure if that meant cat, shit, or what. It's dear. Nice.
Today in NYT is a nice Q&A with Patti Smith.
Can You imagine the following Q being lobbed to Patti:
You seem to cultivate a kind of wild-child mystique, even in your appearance. For instance, why don’t you use hair conditioner?
Patti's reply:
I do use conditioner!
The impudence. I mean really, to ask Patti such an inane question.
Looking forward to the biopic about her forthcoming.
Nice rainy Middling City day, nice and green and the bennie planned by Yours Truly et al (Solid Gold Bookers) - Paws for Charlie - is rain or shine.
And what MC denizen can't handle a little rain after the winters weathered.
Philly Pal emailed me after receiving my press releasing email number two to inquire if Charlie is a boy or dog. Did Charlie need a dog, or did the dog dig too much and need paw replacement surgery I think he was asking. Good question and for the record Charlie is a boy. A human boy.
Today we're up against another dog-related benefit, and the MC's annual Taste Of event downtown. The latter is a surprisingly expensive event teeming with people meandering whilst balancing tiny paper plates of food.
Wonder if they have those chianti slushies. A photog pal turned me onto the joys of the chianti slushie, a bevvie obviously to be consumed only at a large-scale event such as this.

This past Thursday was an interesting confluence of activity, culminating in a disastrous dinner at a new dinner joint with pretension co-owned by a longtime acquaintance, and a late-night, after-hours haircut.
Perhaps it was the overpriced and sour dining experience that YT was into the idea of a cut by a champagne-sipping stylist just off work, hunkered down at the same Italian marble bar. Heady and I paid up, left with our half glasses of vino and headed next door to the salon.
Will try the restaurant again some time but they've been open for over a month, those awkward kinks should be long smoothed-out by now.
In a nutshell: salad with minimalistic toppings, cold pork roulade, followed by scorched and cold foie gras that smelled of eau de wet dog.

Onwards.

Last night attended Cynnie's b-day party at Blair et Monique's and arrived with gift despite a directive to do otherwise. A bottle of Lillet, a fav of Laura. Thought Cynnie might enjoy this, she'd never had it before.
At Frontier Liquor on ever-struggling Grant Street where you can always spot a crackhead or two staring ferally at passersby, discovered that 50% of their windows had been boarded up.
Inside was the usual display maze.
At checkout asked the people working what had happened.
A guy fell asleep at the wheel and arced his car into the windows, taking out $11K's worth of bottles. The man, panicked, left his beau asleep in the vehicle and fled. The police arrived as Frontier's alarms were sounding and awakened the man.
Now Frontier has to redesign their facade as their orange-red bricks are three decades old and obsolete.

Onwards again and over and out for now.

Red-orange Love.