So apparently the world is still crumbling and a newsybits type just said that the economy of Japan is Falling off a cliff.

On a much lighter note.
With much laser-focused intention that is the moment of looking through a camera with such ferocity to document something - anything - of great import, hit the laptop running adrenalized to acquire Band of Horses tix to the acoustic gig at Carnegie Hall.
The dreaded message of huge traffic kept things from big fruition and 20 minutes after the BoH tix went on sale It finally worked.
They are performing the last day of Bonaroo and really that would have been a solid Plan B, and Myrtle Beach's House of Blues may have been a good Plan B-2.
Oh, thoughts now drift to the merch.
YT has been known to zoom to merch tables the world over to acquire t's before their possible sell-out.
Yours Truly may be a (laugh) wizened pro photog adult with an incredibly huge rock & roll archive of images she's made all over the place but the thought of plopping my arse down into the Carnegie Hall's pitch-perfect ambiance to hear one of thee finest bands in the world makes my eyes all swimmy, my heart all tinkly.
Dined with Arts Mentor last evening and insisted that he will not only accept some copies of BoH discs, but Love them.
Ended the evening at 888 where YT walked into some political tumult, as some customers had just left in a dizzyed-up manner and there was much buzzing of how cabs were shunned and such.
Liz pointed out that some Middling City cab co. had a big barn fire (barn fahr, as the relatives out yonder would utter) so perhaps this explained the dearth of cabs.
Now, really.
Anyone in their right mind does not expect to take an MC cab in a timely fashion.
YT has posted about the lame-assed state of MC cabs altogether.

Onwards.
Backwards.
BoH and their loveliness.

Was told that Bonita Z has passed into the big art studio in the sky.
Some people pass and you cannot visualize them fully any more, some just the opposite.
I see her face Perfectly, its round jublilance.
I hear her growls of delight, feel how in Love she was with her beau, how they laughed together in their Love bubble.
Her pomes, her boobalicious art work.
Passed into a quieter place.
Bye, Bonita Z.

Love of all that is green, passed, and sonically restorative.

+ +
And hello to GFS, who hides behind the lyrics of the song that I listen to at this juncture, track 3.

At left is pianist André Watts during a concert privé at the Rice Residence on the one-blocked Tudor Place.
Watts, with the warmest eyes and sparkling personality to match, did the concert for a benefit for AIDS Community Services in the Middling City.
Yours Truly was asked to doc the event, allegedly they'd have no other.
YT also is a past arts auction chair for ACS's now-defunct Cause! for Celebration, and an arts donor for several years.
Watts' programme included pieces by Mozart, Ravel, Chopin, Beethoven with commentary by him between.
What YT has always referred to lovingly as Inter-Song Banter - ISB if You will.
I had a moment to make some lovely ports of Watts with the Rices in the concert room (formerly their living room), and told him that I'd like to make some images of him from behind to show the 100 or so in the room, and make some in the beginning - sans flash, of course.
He, for a musician of that genre, was so agreeable and gracious.
It was so packed in the room that YT found a Perfect seat in what I dubbed The Cinderella Box Seat - in the fireplace.
It was enough room for me and my gear and for me to stretch out my legs.
YT has never sat that close to a concert pianist and was quite surprised to hear that they - or at least this one - growls and hums along to his playing.
The concert ended with Chopin, and a large surly growl from the pianist.

Growling, hand-fluttered Love.