Gee, that was fun.
According to my meager and somewhat impressionistic calculations I think it just took me nearly two hours to book my tix for jetting to and fro this fine summer to get my Perfect self to school. Sort of like taking the cheese bus but a whole lot more expensive than school taxes, nobody is yelling their stinkin' head off in the aisle (well, okay sometimes the wailing of infants - cringe - happens upon lift-off and lift-down), and in lieu of a crotchety bus driver there is a whole ensemble of perky staffers, armed with strong arms to lift baggage snacks and drink items. And, mid-June, I'm officially over 100 super-sonic-bonus points and can traverse off to a swell spot of my choosing and at this moment I just might head to the furthest destination sight unseen but I've probably been there and it's probably LA or SF. Tokyo would be nice, been craving the fruity dry air scent of that island, the food that surprises you, the wack juxtapositions of things, the flora. JetBlue doesn't fly left of Cali.
Shot a wedding today and informed the couple that when the photog gets misty at a wedding it is good luck. And that quippitude is bound to end up on the special epinw calendar, chock full of wizened words, helpful hints and good old-fashioned snark. It has to be good luck if the core of the day, oh, you know, the sentiment of these two people, creeps down their bodies, across the floor, up your leg and into your brain, rendering things slightly swirly for a few moments. I mean, really, I've seen it all. All. Seen. All. And that's just the backstage antics at rock gigs. Then the weddings. All. The only snag du jour was the seemingly benign priest cornering me after all was said, done and official to tell me that basically I'd thrown his whole gig off course as I had gotten too close to a moment onstage. I feel bad for individuals at times like those, having to divert anger and negativity towards someone who they deem their easiest mark. In lieu of Uhh, excuse me Father Malarkey, don't you have something better to do like administer to the bereft instead of invading my time with your fear of losing one centimeter of control over your regimented scene (and keep your hands off the kids), it was Well, it was important to the bride and groom to get a shot of that and I was quite quick about it.
Then drove to a nearby exurb (you know the one, where everyone is wearing a blank smile, walks at half-speed and is wearing sensible shoes) to purchase, on behalf of Yours Truly and Cheryl and Liz, a gift for the pending baby of Jen and Jamal. I decided to call Jen from the sto - JEN, I shouted, I'm in a gift store, did it come out yet. Do you know what it is. So I have to buy yellows and greens. It is imminent. Jen sweet Jen is about to be a mom and I forgot to ask if Jamal still has the scruffity beard he had in the winter as I think his new child should see him at his best and that beard is not included. Jen suggested instead of posting the gifts that I hand deliver them. I considered. Drive to Boston. New baby. School beginning any second. Maybe pile.

Maybe love.

This is a stilled moment from a brainy concept I had that never really got past the "TheArtistIsFuckingAboutWithAConceptThatMayNeitherSeeTheLightOfDayNorOtherSubjets - NorEspeciallyBreathlessAndEnthusedStrangersInGallery" stage. Let us just say that its title could be Sing Into My Hairbrush.
Models were lined up. Concept was so light-tight. Well, crap, I'd best not give it all away lest I'm trolling for said concepts later this art-making cycle.
Have been having odd dreams where I'm being visited or am visiting with a parade of people who I know who have drifted away. Last night I saw Chaz and we hung out for a while and it was like the heady and adrenalized and blatanly strange old days.
So where did Laura's jpeg escape to, the one of the man in Central Park lurking behind me and my digvid camera. Buzznet (below on a past epinw post), so not working with me at this moment.
Oh, note to self:
Remember that on warm days driving around with too many layers, not opening up window for fresh air, and not turning AC on high enough results in snappiness with unwitting photo subject who is not only awkwardly self-conscious but just trying to break the ol' photo ice. Then all improved, went swimmingly, &c.

Swimming in Love.

Mere moments ago Yours Truly was trying to Perfect her mind even further by listening to a scientific radio program about the space program. Now, all due respect to my colleagues and full range of pals who dig the big S as in science and all the engineers and rocket boosters. However. After giving it about a good twenty minute college try I was like so done with it. Onwards to Daft Punk I say.
Having what I love to call a ping-pong day - suburbs, city, suburbs, beach in suburbs (for a photo shoot fercrissakes, really), city, suburbs and - finally - city for some vino with Liz.
Back to Middling City U deadlines fast and deep.

Deep deeper love.

Late morning, today, outside the big box store, you know, the one that chokes you with the aroma of popcorn when you enter and where in HELL are their greeters of yore, or is that another box store, a man gave me a choice. Are you running a cat clinic or are you a crazy cat lady, I bet you're not a crazy cat lady. Oh, I said, I am the crazy cat lady of my neighborhood, I feed all the cats. Then I went on to tell him how Extra is the original cat, how he's had shots, is neutered, and the rest are all transients, as the man smiled said an odd Thanks and turned quickly towards his car, stating weakly that he, too, was some sort of cat lady.
Just weeded and dropped some perennial seeds in a flurry as it's time to hit the road again and the sun is for seedlings, not for Yours Truly.

Seeds of Love.

About to embark out to Middling City U to shoot the difficult donor wall, a respendent and very reflective surfaced creation that necessitates Yours Truly shooting from behind dark fabric.
Saw several noise bands last evening with Kennedy at Matt Kantar's joint, Kitchen Distribution, a warehouse at the terminus of Auburn just a quarter's toss from the toll booths where now an additional quarter is charged to bring the toll for the ol' Niagara Extension up to 75¢. Scott's band - Caustic Solution (another clever as hell band name) played first and were truly the best, followed by noisemakers from Rochester and some from points beyond. The bricks quite possibly are still reverberating, I'm sure the foundation is a little weaker for the sonic wear and tear.
Yesterday, driving away from photo lab spotted a young girl with snow shovel, already this season an odd sight but she was shovelling out her home's front hallway. Glancing towards the open door I could see another person with another shovel. Happy to report I've never had to shovel out my hallway.
Came up with, in a dream yesterday, the way to show my digvid work this summer at the thesis show. A self- contained enviro of semi-darkness.
Off to donor wall shooting.

Shoot Love.