Geeked out with Justy and his pal Mattie last night in some dark hellhole not too far from Union Square about noo music and talked about our favoured wrecked voices when - suddenly - I looked under the world's most uncomfortable boof to discover hell lookie here someone had forgotten, left behind, their iBook and other sundry accessories. Justin suggested leaving it with the barkeep. I thought better of that and opened said iBook and traipsed about the info, the saved emails on mac.com as Justin slipped off to acquire more booze for us and I horrified Mattie that I was familiarizing myself with this woman's life. He started off familiarizing himself, too, but became horrified only when I began getting engrossed in a rather long email about a certain Nate who was a real shit, who wanted only to fuck her but I couldn't decipher (because A numero uno I do not really know her and her sense of propriety) if she dug this - or not.
So Mattie and I spontaneously spot an Asian woman who fit the name on the emails. A Columbia stoodent, no less. Dumbass. Justin and Mattie are New School alums and I will be one in 1.4 years. So we spy the Asian woman. I approached her at the bar.
Are you Helen. Yes. What's your last name. She tells me. Oh, how do you spell it and where's your iBook. Over there (pointing to beat-to-krapp sofa) with my friends. (apparently not thinking it odd that I'm asking about her Mac) Well, no, it isn't, I have it over there (gesturing).
Did cheapass, ingrate Helen buy us some booze. Nope. I proffered that next time I find an iBook I'll hit the street fast & hard and make a cool $100 or $200 before handing it over to a dumbass Columbia person.
&
Today had a gig for All About Jazz mag, shooting bass player Bob Cunningham in his amazingly New England stylee pad with the writer there, too. At the end of all the hobnobbing and such BC gave Terrell and me glossies. I fished for a Sharpie. He signed mine: To Nancy, Lots of Love, Bob Cunningham. And for Terrell: To Terrell, Best Wishes, Bob Cunningham.
No love for Terrell.
After that headed straightaway off the L to Chelsea to see the new Cindy Sherman clown self-ports and Gursky's new gigantic heroic surveilling works.
All good and the rain came down and as I made a digvid short in Matthew Marks Gallery a surveillee began shooting images of Yours Truly.
Double surveyed Love.