Beaver Moon

I report that two of my big prints are in a collected show that opens tomorrow.  The bad news is that on of them is in the most prominent place, one that every person sees as they walk past the gallery.  Bad news as in the other artist's (who already don't like me) will hate me.  The boss of the gallery curator damned my work with faint praise today saying that the frames were worth more than the art.  They are nice frames, but that was my suggestion and the miscreant idiot took it as his own.  Still. . . I am in the show.  Let the public judge.

After work, after the gym, after a shower and the feeding of the (much neglected she would tell you) cat, in the deep dark of mid-autumn, I went for sushi.  Only to be reported was that I glanced up to a small, yellow moon that looked almost full.  Now that there is a full moon app for your phone (and since my astrologer pal has not jumped the gun to mention it), I don't report it as I used to (when I photographed it ever and always and posted it here), but it was close, so I looked it up online to find that the November moon is Thursday night.  It is called "The Full Beaver Moon" according to the Farmer's Almanac (ridiculed by my astrologer friend).  I have Full Beaver photos, and I am tempted to post one here.

Home after dinner--and I don't remember why--I thought of that beautiful gypsy, the Jewish Romanian, Rene Perle.  She was the girlfriend and muse for the most interesting photographs that Jacques Lartrigue ever took.  I am posting his/her photographs here.  I want to be them at that time, want to live the life they lived.  We never will.  Do people still?  Yes.  I know they do.  They are the one percenters and they are isolated from the ideological world the other 99% must live in.  I know (I say) because I dated one for many years.  Do you want me to tell you it was awful?  Do not hold your breath.  If you suddenly came into a billion dollars, you would be like that, too.  They are just people with too much money.  And (dare I say it) it is beautiful.

Just like Rene.  And Jacques, too, for that matter.

I write this on Wednesday night.  You will see the full moon Thursday.  I will be at the official opening of "the show," but I'll see it when I leave.

I am full of raw fish, sake, and whiskey.  There can be little more of this, and so I bid you (like Falstaff) a fair goodnight.