Blogging, as is my occasional Shiney Apple wont, from the Clubhouse, one of thee Clubhouses, on W14th Street.
Yours Truly, of course, speaks of the apple store.
The tidy, lovely, organized world of mac.
And i.
Just walked through Chelsea with a lovely group of ladies (Heady, Annie, Dana, Sandra) and ended the sightings Perfectly, in the Gagosian Sugimoto exhibition.
Seven Days and Seven Nights, fourteen pieces made evenly in both dark and light.
Seven significant bodies of water, still and reflective.
Also looked at the new Sherman work at Metro Pictures, yet another triumph.
Not sure if I like these new elderladies as much as the clowns.
She green-screened the work, putting her made-up self in front of, via PS, backgrounds that are occasionally further altered with swirls and the ol' watercolor filter.
Supped last night at Tabla, a lovely combo platter of Indian spices (thinking my newfangled v. of plural for spices could be spix, similar to the resto plural of chix for chicken) and various viandes.
Tonight is another large part to dine at the raucous Rosa Mexicano, where guac may be made to order tableside.
Another triumph.
Time to touch more macs.
And continue on walking and looking, another SA wont.

Wonton Love.

In throes of Perfect Shiney Apple Zen.
PSAZ for short.
Texting this epinw post so You know this is not only finger-intensive, but tossing Yours Truly into that curious time and space of text narrative when act of writing lags way behind thought.
In Whitney where YT has had a plethora of wondrous moments.
Just and finally became a proud member.
Arranged an ever-expanding cast of characters for supper at Tabla.
Think it's up to 9.
A nice lady called me to confirm and she thought the amorphous Love blob is "wonderful."
Started a new notebook and realized moments ago my fingers are covered with errant green lines.
Walking.
Thinking.
Writing.
Shooting.
Living.
Loving.
As the character in Sam's Rockaby utters: "more."

Amongst the themes, John has made several appearances, including a short 16mm film around the Penny Lane narrative.
What energy, what a nose.

Love of Lennon's nose.

Open Letter du Jour to God.

O God, venerable life force that hovers above everyone on this planet, why arest thou punishing me.
I finally drag myself in to get a pedi - post-gig - and what movie does Team Nailbuffer have on the set but the most godawful piece of poop ever made.
I speak of course of Forrest Gump.
Trying to recall how or why I sat through this cinematic marvel.
Perhaps a pal dragged me into that.
It's just at the part where Dan is sitting on the dock and Forrest waves and swims over to him, leaving the shrimp boat chugging off on the horizon.
Oh, and Jenny just tried to kill herself and her pedicured toes were clinging to her open-toed sandals in a last-second change of mind.

Hillary is officially to be the secretary of state and that is a fab development.
Go Team Obama - Go.

This past weekend brought Little Laura to World's Largest Disco, one of the most festive holiday events known to Middling City Man.
Emailed Dave Pietrowski yesterday morn to let him know that I thought this year rocked, in a disco way.
New disco ball, huge. New lights.
Four of the six Bradys in attendance.
Little Laura and I had our portraits made with the following Bradys: Greg, Cindy, Peter, and Bobby.
All have been to WLD before and I welcomed Peter back to Buffalo.
He deadpanned Have I been here before.
As the photos were being a-snapped I put Cindy in a little lighthearted headlock.
I haven't scanned it yet but below is an iPhone rendering of the moment.



Headlock Love.