venangago-go: September 30, 2008 - Photography workshop, IOOF skeletons, and Saturday shows are back!

Lots of you, I know, were interested in the photography workshop that Jim Kronmiller had on the far side of the state, but with time and schedules is was hard to get things lined up. Wait no more. Kronmiller Creative Portraiture is holding a weekend fall photography workshop for families on October 24 –26, at Two Mile Run County Park. Leave the electronic devices behind (cell phones for emergency use only) and enjoy the great colors of fall in our own back yard. Bring your own tent, food and supplies.

Campfires will be available along with loads of fall photography instruction. Electric, water as well as a heated shower will be available. Costs: Camping $34 for two nights (per tent), and workshop for entire weekend $60 per person.Only limited space available.

Call (814) 673-0900 for registration or more info and make sure to visit the studio at 206 Seneca St. 2nd Floor Suite 25, Oil City, PA 16301 in the historic National Transit Building.

Brother Bean is moving its shows back to Saturday night which make me giggle with glee. However, this Friday's show, Hello Tokyo, has been canceled. I'm not telling my daughter, her wrath will be Biblical in nature.

When I was an undergrad we focused on useful stuff like PostModernism vs Marxism, not stealing fiberglass bears.

What do you expect from a group called the Independent Order of Odd Fellows?

My Little Cthulhu

60 Concert Posters From Ten Amazing Artists. I own two of them.

Pulp mag reprints find an audience … again

The NY Times reviews the Austin City Limits festival

R.I.P. Konstantin Pavlov:

Bdin

Dear mother,
I died
but I didn't go to heaven,
instead I arrived in Bdin.
The postman
frequently passes by
on his rusty "Ukraine" bicycle,
thus, contrary to all laws,
you will have news
from me.
To tell you the truth,
I haven't gone very far here either,
since I've never been much good with languages.
I have remained a poet.
But being a poet among the mute
is like being a gravedigger
in the Beyond.
(By the way,
I saw the graves of Levski and Botev.)
My contemporaries
have long since become classics,
while I'm left munching sunflower seeds
on the edge of the Canon.
Otherwise, I tend the Tsar's sheep,
and thus earn my daily bread.
I have met two kinds of people.
Some say -
"We'll divert the river here!"
Others say -
"We'll divert the river there!"
My mind was torn,
I sat in the middle.
The water poured
over me.
As before,
I have no companions.

I walk alone on the banks of the river.
I look upstream,
waiting for it to bring
either some chest of drawers,
or some votive candle,
or a nest to build a home in,
or to meet the woman
I love.

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