The day of reckoning: Must Assemble Cenotaph. The Midnight Study Hall had resolved the assembly steps: Screw on the verticals, loosely Up end upon the top with the top glass in place to be sure there was sufficient clearance, but not too much, for the top glass Turn the base and vertical sub-assembly upright Dry […]

The western window wasn’t open, so why the art gallery shopping mall Vegas shifting scene nightmare? It was to be the first day off for a week, and then it wasn’t. The Borer Crate can be finished this day.  I told him yesterslack it would only take another hour. I lied. It took three. Tasks: […]

Too much sun, way too much sun. But that wasn’t the problem when the sun came up – The Glasswegan had arranged to meet me at The Castle, drop off the long-awaited Kohl penta-tryptych at 0830. Here at JohnsonArts, 0830 means be ready at 0825. In Glasswegan time, where the chronological arts are more fluid, […]

PHENOMINALDAY – No, I didn’t get laid.  Not That phenomenal. Didn’t land a job, ski, or dive. But almost as good – we’ll call it Goodday. I’m up early enough to field a phone call from the Glaswegan.  You remember, the Carmel glass artist who ostensibly engaged me to make a lantern, bounced a check […]

Schedule indicates an early mid-week boring no-drinking lay around feed the mind instead of the body no shop day. Events dictated otherwise. No, not the mid-Pacific Plate upheaval which sent us all 3000 feet up into the Sierras to bask in the no-snowfall, but a simple email from Curtis, who apparently is in-State and will […]

Rain.  Real Rain, the kind that slants in and soaks your trouser legs no matter how long your duster.  Rain that causes the hatless and the ill-shod to rue the shortcomings of their wardrobe, rain driving from the east sending even the racoons to shiver.  A rain such as make a man question his role […]

MOISTUREDAY – Cannot call it ‘rain’ even though I’d like to refer to that slight tintinnabulation on the forge hood as rain.  Deployed the catch basins, slept as if all my blood was to be extracted in the morning, instead of two vials. Early at the barber surgeon’s office for the blood draw.  It was […]

Enchantment, I’ve been there without knowing why or how.  I’m amid deeply spiritual beings in the form of dowdy matrons hawking knit goods and crèche filler at what seems to be a swap meet mall.  But it’s more, much more.  The place is imbued with magic.  Each ill-dressed crone resonates with spirit, I’m drawn to […]

Of the blessed reign or our Good King Henry VIII, I Ringold Smythe, am the King’s Own Stage master.  At opening night, I do follow the King to the theatre having built for his amusement a rolling, four-wheel’ed cart pushed by footmen and verily being as the pathway to the theatre is downslope over smooth […]

I only read Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes in winter.  At night.  When it’s raining, and with a plate of chocolates.  It’s winter, night comes once a day, I have the chocolates. What we don’t have is the rain.  There’s no app for that.  Or is there? SANTACRUZDAY – I had a double assembly in […]