Yesterday evening's Accidental Frame, the latest in the series.
Must state pronto that the first tune on Pandora's Oldies/Bubblegum station, Looking through the Eyes of Love by Keith Partridge (David Cassidy, of course) is a real eye-opener.
This song, on their Mondrian-looking release, completely sucks.
I cannot recall playing this vinyl on my little powder blue-colored record player, and I must have at least 500 times. Maybe more.
The record collection, all the Partridge Family l.p.'s, and an Elton John, were kept in a drawer along with a bunch of 45's (they were not called 7-inches in those days) that were purchased at the Sample's record shop - 2 for $1.
Next band equally sucks, time for another Pandora station and voilà here 'tis, in a supersonic flash.

This Accidental Image was made walking back to car parked near the doomed-to-wrecking-ball Aud after a Roswell benefit. And all Middling City denizens know a Roswell bennie is for the cancer institute, not for Area 51 in NM.
Saw a splendid array of people, including Kimmie & Tony who tell me they're coming up on Anniversary #9.
Kimmie and I, bien sur, had to regale ourselves with snippets from the evening of her bachelorette party, that Yours Truly planned.
I made her wear a wreath of flowers, org'd a bunch of ladies to meet at Thursday at the Square, acquired a huge amount of drink tix (which were put to use), had dinner at the defunct joint below the Tralf that was once Harlan's, and then onwards to Chippewa Street, as is mandatory for all bachelorettes within Middling City limits.
I had a somewhat-hired driver of sorts (read: The Ex) and wouldn't allow Kimmie to go home when we noted that Tony wasn't yet home. So off we went to another joint nearby, a place we'd never have gone in other circumstances.

As I walked along the SS Little Rock's deck (where the RPCI event happened) I said to another that it'd be great to yell down to pedestrians enjoying the park below AHOY MATEY for when does one ever have this utter op.

Made some nice dusky images of that portion of the waterfront.

Found this neatly-painted little torpedo on the deck.
Found the mechanical scent of the boats was nausea-inducing, the identical scent of amusement parks as one meanders for the next thrill.
Engine fumes + greased parts + warm air = green face of YT.

Love of all shades of green.

Molly Jarboe, from her lovely opening at Hart Gallery last Friday, an equally balmy Middling City evening.

Had a light sup with Brucy and Laura at Fiddleheads, where the three of us had not been to in ages, before skipping across Allen to Molly's art gathering.
Molly's work is black & white and lives in the realm of dreams, imaginings, and remembrances. It feels personal, but also universal.
Here is an image of Molly and BobB, who Yours Truly has known for eons and whom YT also worked with at AV.

BobB was on photodoc duty for Molly, snapping away making crowdshots.
Here is an image YT had Bob make of YT, Molly et al, we are (l. to r.):


Lisa, Joelle, Girl of the Hour, Laura, YT.

Today made some ports out in OP and of course had to get lost. This time due to a curious detour for the road that I needed. I did find the destination after a quick u-turn and after passing some horses made the ports.
Hired to board the SS Little Rock shortly to document the soirée hosted by Roswell Park Cancer Institute. Time to reapply the SPF3000.

And, finally, Nance's Helpful Hint #33:
When driving along life's highways avoid getting too near the following vehicles to avoid bad surprises: Cadillacs, Buick sedans, minivans, and pedestrians pulling smallish RVs upon which are no side mirrors. YT was nearly hit today by 2 of the above 4 on today's several highway jaunts.

No, now finally.
Was quite surprised to hear that a young person, namely YT's nephew, prefers the likes of McCain to Obama. His opinion is based upon the idea of experience, or lack thereof. His auntie could not have disagreed more. Thank goodness he cannot put his op into action for a few years. YT would have worked a bit harder to change his 16-year old mind.

Taking part in Shoot the Day on Sunday. Planning on non-planning, drifting Zenlike form place to place ... before and after a gig. This is a worldwide photogfest and all the images will be uploaded to a site. Details to follow for sure.

For sure Love, Love is a sure sure bet.

Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle all the way blasted from my answering machine, sung by Rio, Ron, Ace, and Lily after they received Nance's Christmas in July package of fun items. And sponge candy for Rio.
Originating from the Middling City, she has a deep love of sponge candy whereas her children, born down south, find it abhorrent.
This non-sponge candy devotion is curious to those raised on it.
Hiked vertically into Devil's Hole, or, rather, down into Niagara County's gorge to look across at Devil's Hole, yesterday with Kennedy.
We fun and outdoorsy committee members who voted, discussed, and debated about the bests in and around the MC came up with Devil's Hole for best daytrip/hike.
We emphasized in our discussion that one could perish doing so.
The rocks can be quite mossy and slippery and there are a few moments where one is leaning towards the wall of the gorge to avoid falling down into what's left of the hike.
We hiked along the coast as those silly boats zoomed continuously up the rapids to give ticketholders a thrill. Backwards on the bow is a worker, speaking to the crowd about the dangers they are coming face to face with as the boat's youthful captain either stalls out the engine to let the boat drift a ways sideways, or to crash into waves for full, splashing effect.
You walk along the coast from the vertical ending to the whirlpool which is more impressively viewed from above.
Kennedy and I hired a limo a few winters ago to take some musicians to the Falls and to the whirlpool (along with a stop at the gorgeside resto in Lewiston that is not The Silo) and that view was quite spectacular, it slowly churning counter clockwise - a phenom.

Yeterday, amongst other things, photographed h.s. girls taking virtual reality rollercoaster rides. Yours Truly stood behind on a stepstool and became quite woozy as I photographed four sets of girls and was watching the action through the lens.
Woozy I tell You.
My lifelong ride-centric wooziness not dispelled by lens, years, or virtual reality.

The Book plods along. And its images made by YT.
Have been making images here, there, everywhere.

On Sunday YT participates in Shoot the Day, a worldwide photo event with photogs making images for a day wherever they happen to be. All these images will be posted onto PhotoSheleter's site. This is all inspired, obviously, by the Life project of yore.

Speaking of pop mags, Time's story about Steve Kurtz was fairly unimpressive and the photo was just terrible. They used a grabby title about Big Bro eating 'za at one's pad and the photo, it seems, was meant to look as sensationalistic as the words meant to be.
Sent off my own take on the Kurtz story (a much-needed look at him as Artist, and what his artwork is actually about) to the Shiney Happy.

Parties and trips on the soon horizon.

Vertical, horizontal Love.

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.