Nephew who Yours Truly brought to all-day rock festivals (Warped Tour, EdgeFest) just texted - moments ago - a cryptic
Holy Crap bat man youll never guess what just happened.
To which his godmother/spiritual & fashion adviser replied
What love?
To which he much later replied (after an attempt to reach him directly on his cell, despite it being a school day and all, and some musings and worries about what in heck had transpired in his sixteen year old universe prompting a text to his dear rock & roll auntie)
We are playing at the hsbc next thursday.
To which I replied to the effect of YT being so utterly proud of him, and wanting to photograph the entire thing, but of course.
Nephew's band, Amber Wood, won a classique battle of the bands and now gets a slot performing in front of multitudes.
And now, me being me, thoughts run to their merch. YT recalls their rather unsplendiferous t's in xl only. Girls need girl t's. And stickers, where are the stickers and the like.
Read the NYT review of the Scorcese Stones movie, Shine a Light, much space given over to describing their physicality, of the gushingness that effuses from the fandom raging in Scorcese.

As you scrutinize the aging bodies of the Rolling Stones in Martin Scorsese’s rip-roaring concert documentary “Shine a Light,” there is ample evidence that rock ’n’ roll may hold the secret of eternal vitality, if not eternal beauty.

YT has to wonder why she was not in her oso usually Perfect state of mind, and skipped attending an Imax preview of same film with Annie this past Tuesday, at the invite of Deb at the former employing publication. We were off to attend an Arts & Letters alum event hosted by the big U and YT supposes there was overlapping, that there was the ever possibility of just seeing in on another screen.
This was faulty judgment.
There were Middling City rock & roll luminaries traipsing off to the suburban screening and I imagine that the cultural, residual effects would have been far greater than the good wine and needing-work cheese that we engaged in. There was good conversation, and we did look at the Sam Francis exhib and several other works on paper. Anderson Gallery was the viewing and sipping venue, always a treat, for their collection is deep-reaching.
Time to wend toward Wyatt Design to pick up my CEPA auction piece for public viewing starting today.
View the works online here.

Love on the block.

Realized I had not yet translated the little Leica's memory card molecules into visual treats for You, images made at TriMania '08.
An event that is demi-revelry, demi-workout, what with all the traipsing and stairs and such.
Images evoke Cheryl and Yours Truly whilst on the dance floor, multitasking madly making images, making bold dance moves, making pals. And, in case of YT, making sure that Annie's personal belongings did not get kicked under the d.j. riser or worse.
Another image evokes Joanna Angie, Buffalo Art Studio foundress, in throes of what YT calls Hostess Syndrome, in midst of party frenzy there is still the hyper-awareness of all things good, bad, near-catastrophic, near-dumping, and more. She is shown reaching underneath d.j. area to hit a switch to move some air around via an overhead fan. YT shouted Joanna, Joanna but she was off on another situ-fixing mission.
Other image shows some of my posse wending from a point A of sorts to a point B, or perhaps C, of sorts. Despite my ever-helpful, Perfect p.s.a.-like pointers, some of the girls wore shoes that overruled sensible in favour of fashion. Hence they suffered TriMania Foot worse than YT.
Other image shows Dave Derner's studio, and his way noteworthy 8x10 glossie of thee OJ back in his heady Middling City days of yore, before the drugs morphed him into a Bad Man. Derner says he garbage picked this and oso many more. Derner will not say where, fercrissakes.
Onwards to sun-drenched matters at hand.
And the search for ever more crocii continues.

Little purple, white, yellow crocus Love.

Laptoppermost vocab word du jour is restasis, dry eyes due to a state of nonblinkingness for hours whilst editing on la machine.
Carpal tunnel.
Check.
Restasis.
Check.
Caffeine jangles.
Check.
Just added Cat Power Station to the newly-beloved Pandora. As I wrote to a pallie last week, what in H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks took Yours Truly so long to get my Pandora shit together.
One of the editrices requested a B.D. (that'd be Big Delivery) of pixel magic today, yes, today, so YT is in throes of burning/id'ing/invoicing before zooming out to the former wetlands that is now the Big U.
Stephen Colbert rolls into these parts on Friday and YT gets to document his nearly every move, including the moments he meets and greets his biggest fans for express lane conversation and decs of love and such.

Deck the halls with art, decs of Love, to boot.

Went to the triennial TriMania last night with members of Solid Gold Bookers, the event that fills up TriMain building with people and art. A warehouse that was formerly filled with windshield wipers, and pallets, and workers putting together wiper blades, and Hallwalls.
It's an event of serendipity, as everyone is traipsing up and down stairs, up and down the slowest elevator in the land. Last TriMania I employed the freight elevator to much speedier effect. Best portion was dancing to an imported d.j., a yawn-stifling femme from the Shiney Apple who mixed up some nice international drumbeats.
Just planned the next art foray to the very same S.A. to make and see, interspersed with various errands, and reconnectings. The one Me and Ro solid gold necklack, the tree-imaged ingot, needs a new cotton thread laced around the neck of Yours Truly quick fast in a hurry.
Time to wend out to a ladies blogger brunch.
A roomful of photogs is a much different full room than that of writers.
Given a choice I might pick the former, as it's a more robust energy with an ingrained democracy of shared information and a generalized, rumpled joie de vivre.
The brunch happens at the Middling City's famed Art Emporium so it will be a fine op to pop back into the digvid projections of Steinkamp - especially her Jimmy Carter vertical flowers projections.
Image toppermost is the ceiling of Saint Adelbert's Basilica, shot to show the windowly art.

Windows to Love.

++
This Just In.
After a few reflective moments, a few imPerfect barking dogs this fine a.m., and TriMania fellows complaining of their own barking dogs, YT coined the phrase - TriMania Foot. This is a post-reveling - and dancing - condition affecting the lowermost portion of one's person after hours upon concrete flooring, and racing up and down stairs most of an evening.