one thing today

  … that Madonna always has a black roots center part. Like she wasn’t entitled to Medicare three years ago. … that the current day Bill Maher complained to a university president that colleges were too into cancel culture to book him and his guest said - well ,   students in the 60s didn’t book Don Rickles or Rodney Dangerfield. … that actors like Drew Barrymore and Ted Danson and Doogie Houser shill for gambling apps that lure people into a life destroying addiction. just writin'

Labor Day weekend always has its unique way. end of summer like end of weekend ... maybe   coulda shoulda been better . school begins. colors change.  Patti says life is a package. Her mantra, courtesy of Jimi H -  hooray I wake from yesterday. 

Little Island tonight ... poetry reading Allen G tribute ... Richard Gere read a poem called Homework, an MGM hippy couple corralled their baby during Golden Hour and Laurie A played her violin to tai chi with Lou's teacher. doin' his thing. got me out of my dark spread, with a little help from time and Pinocchio - who is so famous he auto corrects. 

  Joan Mitchell evoked landscape environments in many of her paintings, usually by conjuring physical sensations such as light, sound, and movement. In  Hemlock , the variations of short and long brushstrokes as well as the alteration between flashes of blue or green paint and larger areas of milky white create a sense of rhythm and movement. The white paint appears both behind and on top of the other colors, which blurs the definition of foreground and background—a stylistic hallmark of Mitchell’s work throughout her career. Although the horizontal green slashes in  Hemlock  might bring to mind a hemlock tree, Mitchell titled the work after it was completed. The title derives from a passage in a 1916 Wallace Stevens poem,  Domination of Black , which contains several references to hemlock, including: “Out of the window, / I saw how the planets gathered / Like the leaves themselves / Turning in the wind. / I saw how the night came, / Came striding like the color...

one day ... an early run, looks at folks, nutrition, a book maybe, music say, a sweetness or 2. so eazeey pezzey.  next day ... a fleshy, bloody cement slab that rivals a weakling rabbi who's gotta fly a wedding right after losing a not close at all call shank  fight.                                        why?

  I go to Home Depot and eyeball cheap, ugly rugs and then walk to Madison Park to Shake Shack. I order and wipe raindrops off a chair. This big, young, friendly looking lug of a guy at the next table over says … this one here is dry. Take it. I think for a few seconds - I’m not sure if he means take the chair back to my table or - if he means I should join him - so I sit at his table. He’s Bill - something close to that but fancier, Billem maybe - from Germany- call me Bill. He’s Bosnian and 27 and has a lovely accent and writes short stories and teaches wrestling to very young kids after leaving a job in publishing. He looks like a big good ole Southern bearded MAGA bad boy but speaks very intelligently about his trip and home and work. He lives with his troubled mother in a forest outside of Stuttgart and is here until Sunday and then he’s off to Texas. We eat burgers and fries and he talks about Hemingway. I tell him I am on my way to Rizzollis bookstore and invite him to jo...