Oh this is such a day for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.
And here they are at 60dB and suddenly I am more at peace with the Middling City where the urban chief (ie mayorissimo) reports to patronage duty at the asscrack of dawn, offering condolences to the owners of the blazen pizza joint on the MC's west side. I can report on the pizza joint thusly. It was a disco kind of joint, chock full of mirrors so that when your drunken face was at the chest-high counter ordering up a slice or so there you were, all Picassoed out, sliced out yourself. And, oh, the disco balls. And pinball machines. A saucey isle in the midst of what was once working class, now crack cultured. All about the fades, the petit larceny, the pockets of attempts at cuh-lean living rather than leaving. So, the mayor reports in to say gee whiz and sorry. Off again to the Shiney Apple tomorrow and the making and doing of art and fine french coffee and the like. Into the eye of the hurricaine as this week happens to be the one in which most of my SA pals have been inspired to avoid: the target-rich RNC. Thought JetBlue would be offering up Hey Dem, Come Fly With Us discounts but nogo. Hope to digvid in peace, far from the madding crowds never to see eye to eye. But, then again, one does never know what forces forces one into the midst of protest and dissent. Some arresting news: JW,Esq. reports he's off to Burning Man in a customized orange fuzzy hoodie. In lieu of glo-stix, should I ever find myself there, I'd probably lean more towards masked rogue and mischief - less fluffy hoodie, more flakey hood.
Contrasted Love.