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O Superwoman

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Hi Laurie I just walked past you on Charles or Perry street, by the river - you were putting luggage in the trunk of a car. I almost stopped to say hey. I tai chi-ed with the crowd while you played violin the other night at the Little Island. We worked together one day thirty plus years ago … at the Museum of the Moving Image in Queens. You did intros for a Channel 13 independent film series - I remember Jim Cohens Lost Book Found was part of it. Home of the Brave was the best concert I ever experienced and Here With You will be played at my gathering when I kick.  Thank you for your art.  Regards,

Hey kiddo ...

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  thanks for the old school correspondence. I was just talkin' to Bonner the other day and mentioned when I did my annual Labor Day rumination bout summer '26 - what popped up in my head was our fab Fire Island Louisiana Bollfest - when fun and talk and tales and laughs and music and tastes and drink was had by all. and yes, the place is easy to feel memorable - a touchstone about how easy and right and lovely life can be. and yes - as you mentioned - it does sustain me year round - the wonder and warmth of a perfectly beautiful place. 

wedding bell blues

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had wine with Wendy last night after the screening and she told me about her city hall marriage years ago. they had to do it fast for immigration reasons and it was a Wednesday and they had to get a witness - an unemployed friend who could get downtown pronto. they called his French mother. She refused to do it ... said she didn't believe in marriage. then they thought of a friend - but Wendy hesitated because she was lesbian and she thought her girl might be unwilling to support an institution that didn't support her. Then Husband to Be called his friend with a wife who was making him more and more boring like herself and he showed up with her - and Wendy didn't want her name on their marriage license from that day forward. So much for just going down to City Hall to get hitched easy peezy .  

I think it's funny and irrevocably uncool ...

  … 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. 

As Sak sez ... it's not over

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. 
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  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...