AMP: Artists' Meeting Place and Resource Collective

For earlier Chapters and an explanation of this dreadful story, see blog: The Cardiff Grandma. WARNING: This novel contains fake Welsh.
In the previous episode, The entire student body of Welsh University, tragically inconvenienced and then killed twice, Sunny Quito had truly been the heart and soul of the programme. Next, Samantha Panther, star reporter, in Luxembourg…

The Cardiff Grandma Chapter 34

The Jeep bounced along the narrow, undulating roads in what seemed to be the north of the country. She’d never been here before but it was certainly a lot more contoured than she had remembered it. They’d been traveling for almost about twenty minutes before Samantha felt she ought to start being more professional and remember her journalistic training.

Easily manipulated. One day I was identified as a graduate student (when I wasn't, really). My effort is recognized as a person approached me and asked, "are you a graduate student?"

The first step to make yourself a Grad student is to get a bag with wheels. You may get a small luggages. The rationale behind: a graduate student is "supposed" to check out lots of books from the library, so a wheeled bag becomes very important for the ease of transportation.

But, for best results, get one that has bearings in the wheels with soft-plastic coating on outside. Otherwise, you will attract a lot of attentions in YRL (a UCLA library): the floor is made with tiles that have tiny ditches in between; if your wheeled bag has a hard plastic wheels, it makes noises.

In conjunction with the solo exhibitions of Maddy Rosenberg and Stephane Dumas this month at Safe-T-Gallery, please join us for an evening of readings by Tom LaFarge, Wendy Walker, Jessie Stead and Bethany Wright this Thursday, May 4th, at 7 PM.

Tom La Farge, in keeping with the architectural visions of Rosenberg’s paintings will be reading an excerpt from his most recent novel, The Broken House, describing the Roohaneeya Theater, an invented space in a composite world where a poet has gone to see a play encased by the theater itself and the sightlines it offers.

Wendy Walker will continue on an architectural theme as she reads a selection from A Story out of Omarie about an11th century French woman who is abandoned at sea by her family, is subsequently given to the ruler of a North African kingdom, and her personal experience of the surrounding Islamic architecture.

how 'bout we all agree to "make" art instead of "do" art?

Preface: Time for shameless promotion of one of my stories featured in "Adventures for the Average Woman." This one is based on an actual nightmare I had (as are most of my stories and graphics). It nearly got published by a Boston imprint but got kicked to the curb at the last minute. :(

Oh well, it's got my limited reading public hooked, so here is the first in a series of chapters for your amusement. (It's either this or more lamenting on how being a starving artist is a picnic with no sandwiches on a fireant hill.)

“Come here, you wretched O.” The vampiress’s words sprayed spittle and blood. She floated on the thick night air.

For earlier Chapters and an explanation of this dreadful story, see full blog: The Cardiff Grandma. WARNING: This novel contains fake Welsh.
In the previous episode, an employee at the big giant vast humongous phone call disservice centre tries to pin his incompetence on Sunny Quito. Now...Quito crosses paths with the deadly Librarian.

The Cardiff Grandma Chapter 33

The real Sunny Quito, if there was such a person, was strolling down the street. As he was strolling up the street he’d watched from an ever decreasing distance a man and a woman arguing next to a phone booth. He glanced into a shopwindow featuring a display of Red Italian leather shoes (Geckos, size 9) much like his own, and reminisced about Ecuador and the good old brothel days, smiling in anticipation of surprising his old pal Dddwwchlyff from the good old brothel days. Sunny liked to surprise people; he’d let his old pal Ddwwchhlyff think Sonny was in Luxembourg when he was really right here on Welsh soil. (Of course technically, though he never knew it, he would probably have been on Welsh soil if he were in fact in Luxembourg).

I have three goals.

1) Learn a foreign language to fluency (Japanese)
2) Learn to play a musical instrument (piano)
3) Learn to cook (Japanese/Italian)

Love. Friends. Happiness. All unecessary. All unwanted.

To escape the horrible food of the cafeteria I decided to flee my building and retreat to the slighly less horrible food of Subway. As soon as I walked outside I was reminded how fast spring weather in Washington D.C. can change - during the course of the day the sun had warmed up the weather so that only a cool breeze was evidence of the cold and brisk morning. Outside the trees that were so barren just a couple of months ealier had come to life. If I closed my eyes and let my mind wander, I could remember the branches when they were saturated with flowers that were so pink and so red that only poets could emblish their beauty properly.

For earlier Chapters and an explanation of this dreadful story, see full blog: The Cardiff Grandma. WARNING: This novel contains fake Welsh.
In the previous episode, the Snought-Smithy feud. Now...

The Cardiff Grandma Chapter 32

‘Good [afternoon]. You are now through to [Debbie] at [The Great Big Massive Huge Telephone Number Finding Centre]. For training and security purposes we may record this call, surreptitiously monitor your movements, follow you around, investigate your credit, police and dental records and interview close family members and work associates. This call is being charged at the [very reasonable] rate of [50p] per [second]. At this time I’d like to [waste]… sorry [take] a few minutes of your time to tell you about the other wonderful products and services we can supply to [you]. If you’d like to know more about our automated call handling system…press one followed by the hash symbol followed by your PIN. If you would like to hear the last message again...press two…’

Visiting Kentucky this past weekend I had the opportunity to go to the Lexington Gallery Hop. The "Hop" is held about five times a year and I always seem to miss it. I almost missed this one too. Around 5pm it started raining and there was quite a downpour. A great benefit was that it reduced the crowds and increased my chances at getting closer to the work and to the artists.

Given more time I would have hit all of the spaces. Here is a list of my stops,

Ann Tower Gallery
Art at the Cathedral
Artsplace Gallery
Bluegrass Printmakers' Cooperative
Carnegie Center Laurie S. Bottoms Gallery