Waiting to Get There. Usually on the A/C/E in Chelsea, New York City.

Dateline 12/27/11: While enjoying her evening in a deceptively snug restaurant in vermont, Melissa's umbrella was purloined from the communal umbrella jar by the door. Although in direct proximity, Vermont is not New Hampshire. In Vermont, there is no living free or dying all dry and comfortable beneath someone else's expensive wind-proof, auto-open umbrella. The criminal element, especially ones predisposed to fine dining, should keep an eye on state lines.   Possibly unbeknownst to the perpetrator, the heist resulted in serious repercussions beyond the obvious damp clothing problem. Umbrella theft is no victimless crime and such was the case yesterday. Inadvertently, Silla plucked a third-party umbrella from the communal stand causing a thievery chain reaction and thrusting her deeply into the thug life. The bandit slope is slippery. Next, she may feel the lure of the rain slicker!    Although crack reporters such as myself are paid a large percentage of all blog profits to

Tom exits the grocery store and throws a ten dollar bill in Santa's basket. Santa hollers that he is simply there to hand out candy canes. Tom fishes his money out of the pile of candy canes and puts it back in his pocket.

Since it is unlikely that I will ever find myself interviewed about my so-called artwork by a publication like the NY Times or the Randolph News Bee, I've decided to interview myself. Me: What is the genre of your art? Me: I call it Hedgewitch Modern. Or maybe Abstract Packrat. My genre is loosely based on Joan Miro and his large-scale dystopic paintings of potatos. Me: What inspires you? Me: I'm inspired by paisley, scuff marks, lantana, fingerprints, paint chips, metal dust, used Scotch tape, crumpled paper, shredded fabric, circular objects, moss, black chess pieces, bubbles, reptile scales, crystaline molecular structures, mutilated stripes, and things that have been burned in a fire. Me: Where do you keep your art supplies. Me: In the dishwasher, your rumor mongerer. I will also have you know I've removed my sweaters from the oven. Although admittedly a titanic example of storage genius, a fire hazard risk-reward evaluation caused me to reassess. Me: