Yours Truly is merrily ensconced in Vagabond World.
Sort of a lesser Off Grid Moment, working on the laptop (with sanity-saving iTunes blaring a lovely soundtrack down into the ear canals) in a corner with a nice pot of tea in a cloud of wi-fi.
In actuality a near-Perfect moment.
If I could just erase the femme nearby who is an unblinking grad student here to charm the pants off her male prof, all would be Parfait.
She speaks loudly of writing poetry, cites thee Derrida with abandon.
She swings her tattooed foot in his direction.
His hands are off the table, on a folder.
This deconstructive body language whimpers the erotic dance between teacher & student. The give & take. The mind meld and the mind shield.
Just emailed Sparky a nice little reverie, a dance choreographed to Touch and Go's Would You ...?
Yesterday's talk to the yutes went very well.
There were twenty-two of them, three of us advisers. And three handlers.
At one point I suggested that we all trek outdoors so the students could make their first frame on their dispos-o-cams of themselves for identifying purposes.
It was as if I suggested we suddenly pass a loaded revolver around the room and take turns aiming at the old marble mantelpiece remaining in the beleaguered former grand home's sitting room.
We all went outside. The other adults made much of this. YT did not.
All went swimmingly and they got to stretch their collective legs.
I noted that the other instructive people did lots of direct talking whereas I asked them some questions.
Who in blazes wants to only be talked at, never asked a question.
It's a simple, human thing. We like to feel noticed, placed, respected, asked.
The ol' give & take once again.
I especially enjoyed talking to two girl pals who sat in the front row, they were very funny indeed.
They revealed that they didn't want to take their portraits just then as they hated the way their hair looked. I suggested that they do this later, at home.
They looked concerned about not following the directive and I suggested that they fake the taking of their portraits.
They dutifully stood in line. They made faux ports.
I said Nice job, ladies.
Afterwards met the fam at Tempo for a grand dinner.
Pal Paulie Jenkins helped me and Soups wine & dine the hell out of our parents, now married for a whopping forty-eight years.
We had superstar treatment and it was magnifique.
Time to wend to the suburbs to take the niece and nephew out shopping for some school items that will rock.

Rocking wardrobe Love.

Tomorrow at this very minute, 10 past Stoners' Time, Yours Truly will be imparting photo wisdom to Middling City youths, along with two other photogs.
I plan on showing them some work. Capital W.
As in art work and freelance work samples.
Kids, I shall say, sighing briefly, you can shoot anything. In any way. It's what's in here (thumping chest) that makes it real, gives it what Benjamin called an aura. Bluff your way through the landscape and make cheap shots and not only will you not feel something akin to passionate love, but your audience will know it, too.
Then I shall state my favoured statement of all time.
I rest my case.
And have a seat.
After that imparting, YT and her sister are taking the matching set of parents out for their 48th wedding anniversary. Not 50. As had been mistakenly believed to be this anniversary year as one mother of the pair mentioned 50 at some point and YT, being ever the party planner as well as diligent and thoughtful person, began planning a fete. It was only after nosing about a bit that it was discovered that there are two more years for that grand event.
But we are still heading toward one of the MC's fanciest, schmanciest joints for dinner which should be a treat.
Just finished documenting an event for the Big U and featured was a speaker, a reader of poems and essays who brought down the house in a moody manner.
One attendee said to another, on their way out.
Oh, you didn't miss a thing, all the readings were about Death.
Apparently attendee two had not been able to hear the hushed words.
Onwards.

Passionate, photographic Love.

Freeland would have been oso beaming at what Jon et al created last night at Artie's Town Ballroom in his honour, a veritable rock & roll throwdown and jubilant reunion cavalcade of good people from the club sphere.
Went to the big trib after the Big Orbit opening, with Annie.
Big O did some changing of the space for one of the installations and it made the space a bit claustrophobic. Also taking away from the ambiance was the x-l dumpster parked right by the steps.
Midway through our gallery stop Laura appeared with a balloon half full of red vino, and I hoped for her sake it was not that horrid yellow tail that has infested the wine world.
We motored on towards downtown and floated in the rock world for a long while.
TZ was there selling her Planet Love wares at the table that also featured Freeland's two books.
I was at the table to buy one of the books but got distracted by the sheer simplicity of the iconic Freeland shirt. But was sad that they did not have my size in black.
TZ sold me the shirt off her back, literally.
Here is the before and after.



She instructed me to launder the black shirt before wearing it.
Fercrissakes, Yours Truly stated, I've known you for decades, what's a little DNA between pals.
Seen, heard:
Carla (of course), TonyB (the emcee and on sax and on point) and Kimmie, Darien Hicks, Donny, Marcie, Paula + Greg (yes, +!), Kane w/Bud, Bud's Sue (who tells me Andre now goes by Booker (yikes), Lisa K, Jill, Marty (who pointed in the direction of Susan, not seen), Bob of DasBoot historical fame, Maria, Harvey (on date and +2), Erectronics, Paper Faces (who I saw a few times at thee premier Tralfamadore Cafe when on Main @ Fill), Industry of Life Divine (aka Industry of My Behind, featuring the Middling City's own Bono, Gary), and oso several more.

Triumphant, Tributary Love.