The Artist Is Present

Holy smokes!  I see Q's been helping while I was away.  But I'm back now.  The Artist is Present.

I don't know what that means, really.  I didn't see the movie.  I may want to retract that statement after I do.

Got home at midnight.  There is much to tell, but I want to do it well, not in a reportorial style but with nuance.  For that, this morning, there is not time.  Eating dinner on my second day in Utah, a key crown came undone.  I tried the usual trick of reattaching it with toothpaste until I got home, but that didn't work, so I ate very slowly.  Still, it came off again and again.  Thusly, I have a dentist's appointment early today to get it reattached.  The upside is that I probably lost weight.  No, I know I did.  And shed ten years, too.  I am a younger, handsomer version of the fellow who went.  I mean the skiing and the high mountain air were good, but something else, too.  I got more play going from my room to breakfast than I've gotten all year here at home.  "Play."  That's Swingers talk, I think.  I'm not sure, but it sounds right.

It won't last long, though.  It is back to the daily grinding and milling at The Factory.  They don't see me as Hollywood so much.  They simply want me making lead out of gold.  It's the New American Dream.  What can I say?  It's a living.

But let's not dwell on that, eh?  Here is some street music I heard in Park City.  Just good fun.