Brian, in his studio. Alas, not his any more due to the gentrification of the Brooklyn nabe it resided in.

Brian Kenny has been posting more of his stories. I’ve been a bit… bleak here for the past few weeks, so I thought I’d lighten things up. Sadly, the studio in the picture above is no more. Brian and his art colleagues were driven out by exorbitant rent increases. So it’s nice that he has shared some joy in whatever stories he can tell.

—

The day got off to an odd start with the Odd Phone Call of The Day ringing in at 8:04 (ie: pre-coffee):
Bill: “Hi Brian! This is Bill [last name redacted to avoid his embarrassment]. I’m trying to set-up a meeting later today with you and Burke’s people.”
Me: “Hi Bill. Umm… Burkes?”
Bill: “Yes, we need to coordinate the use of your bathrooms during construction!”
ME: “I’m sorry… My WHAT? And I don’t know any Burkes.”
Bill: “I propose we meet later today with Ken Brengel and Burke, maybe this afternoon.”
Me: “Um, I’m not available until after 5:30, but I’m sorry, I don’t know either of those guys, or what bathrooms you’re talking about.”
Bill: “You ARE Brian Kenny, aren’t you??”
ME: “Well, yes…”
Bill: “Umm… Brian Kenny, Director of Engineering at Winthrop University Hospital??”
ME: “No, I’m Brian Kenny, your neighbor on the other side of your back fence.”
Bill: “Oh.” *click*

The “Odd non-Superbowl-related conversation of the week” happened after I was introduced to a charming early-twenties lady:
She: “I just LOVE your grey hair!”
Me: “Oh… thanks.”
She: “It’s so trendy right now! There was an article in last week’s Times about so many young men dying their hair grey.”
Me: “Oh, yeah. I saw that.”
She: “Did you see that article? Is that why YOU did it??”
Me. “Um… Yes. That is the ONLY reason my hair is grey now.”
She: “COOL!”

——

Odd exchange of email, paraphrased and condensed into conversation form:
Art collector: “I have this work. Can I get a letter from you saying it’s authentic?”
Me: “My records indicate the previous owner had such a letter, and when you bought the art the auction house gave it to you.”
AC: “Well, how do I know this letter is genuine?”
Me: “So… are you asking me to give you a letter saying the other letter is genuine, which says the artwork is genuine?”
AC: “YES! Can you do that??”
Me: “No.”
AC: “Why NOT?!?”
Me: “Because I’m not as stupid as you are.” [I didn’t phrase it THAT way, but you get the idea of what I’m up against almost daily.]

——-

Conversation-I-Never-Wanted-to-Have of the Day” occurred at the ticket sales desk for the Armory Art Show, with a Perky College Girl:
Me: “One please.”
PCG: “Are you over 65?”
Me: “What???”
PCG: “If you’re 65 or over you get a discount!”
Me: “Do YOU think I’m 65?!?”
PCG: “I’m not sure, but you don’t have to show me ID; just tell me if you’re over 65. …You know, it’s fifteen dollars off the admission price for seniors!”
Me: Yes, yes I am 65!”
And there you have it; vanity went head-to-head with thrift, and thrift won. But I still wanted to smack her..

—–

I’ve long known that Canadians and Europeans follow American politics a bit more closely than most Americans ever would, but lately it’s been the very definition of “uneasy reassurance”; foreign friends are now telling me IF Trump wins the election, I could go work for them when “the inevitable” happens. Perhaps I should be a bit more frightened; God knows THEY are!