Went to a classical, vocal, Anglican mid-day concert at historic and under-scaffolding Grace Church to witness talents of OllieB, britboy met upon CDG-JFK flight.
Seating Plan: A/Yours Truly; B/as in Beth; and C/OllieB, 6'2" 20year old, bedimpled and chatteur par excellence.
Wandered into Grace's place about 15 late and made my way up the aisle and there was OllieB with three other britboys and two britgirls, singing like their lives depended upon it, like they were, like the wailing wall recently viewed, our transmitters, our hopes for something celestial.
Moved along to Marquet to read, etc. and it was there that I discovered that NYPost made an error grande - on their front page, for all the world to see, was their lead story about horsefaced Kerry's selection of running mate, sprayheaded Gephart. I had read about an hour earlier that, in truth, the r.m. was/is John Edwards, another man of sprayed proportions.
So this is a collector's item, which I pitched into trash as I left Marquet, which I several hours later came to regret and I sprinted out of the computer lab, out of Parsons's 5th Avenue digs, across the Ave to acquire another, and another, and another. To discover all were gone at what I've dubbed The Studio/the deli on the west side of the street. So I charged over to the lesser deli and purchased their last. This, I'm speculating, will pay my grad student debts. Or those of my heirs. Or theirs. If eBay's still around.
Back to digvid editing, walk to another french joint for coffee noir to go, to art, to lecture, to listening, to collaborative seminar, to meeting with JR, to more reading, to move through the streets, to think, to think, to move, to more.
Blooper Love.