THE ONLY PICTURE I GOT FROM THE FRINGE FESTIVAL

 

Like many cities, St. Louis has a Fringe Festival for out-there performing arts. I've been the house photographer for awhile. It's all modeled on the original Edinburgh Fringe.

No live performances this year, of course. Ours decided to go virtual, with all performances on Zoom. (You had to buy a ticket to get an access code.) One, called #txtshow, had a clever premise. A performance artist hosted the meeting. Participants were asked to turn off their microphones and cameras and rename themselves as Anonymous. Everyone could then send chat messages to the user just called txt. The host would read them aloud. Since the messages were all anonymous, the discussion could get wild and raucous.

But you need a bunch of participants to make this work. When I joined on Sunday afternoon there was only me. The second box above is the Fringe's director, the third is the host and the fourth place to send messages. I felt sorry for the guy and hung in to the end, just making inane comments in the chatbox on the right and listening to his responses. Disappointing. It could have been a lot of fun. As it was winding up I took this shot with my phone.            

 

MADELEINE MONDAY

Ellie turned seven last Thursday. Hard to believe. The childhood of my own kids, now sliding into middle age, seems impossibly long ago. She had what's called a strider bike, something new to me. It had pedals but no brakes or gears. Ellie didn't make much progress on it. But, rather than throw a dart on Amazon, my daughter went to a local bicycle shop, got good advice and bought this seven speed, hand brake model. Now the child cannot be stopped, tearing around corners, zooming up and down hills. Money well spent.          

YESTERDAY DID NOT GO AS PLANNED

I keep saying that I am desperate for material. During the warmer months that involves outdoor events. Of, course, there are next to none. There was to be a rally downtown at the main post office in opposition to our wicked national administration's efforts to cripple the postal service in an effort to discourage voting my mail. So I found a place to park in the shade where I could see the entrance. Nobody there, so I sat in my car with the engine off listening to the weird music I like (anyone into Caroline Shaw?) through my phone. Eight or ten people eventually showed up. I tried to start my car and - nothing. Troubleshooting led to the conclusion that the battery was dead. It took the auto club an hour to get to me to jump start the thing.

 

The technician did tests and told me the battery was about kaput. I called the dealership and their service department could work me in. So, by late afternoon, I got home with a new battery and no photos.

 

Back in the recent archives, then. I found these mean-looking guys and their bikes by the graffiti-permitted section of the flood wall, kept my distance and shot this through the windshield with a telephoto. Downtown streets have been pretty empty lately and there has been a real problem with people racing on souped-up motorcycles, doing dangerous tricks and even gunfire. (Remember, this is America.) The city has blocked off some major streets down to one lane and closed the old bridge over the Mississippi. I wonder if these chaps were on their way to such sport.                 

THIS AIN'T THE FOREST FLOOR

It's been awfully nice for summer in The Lou over the last few days with sunny skies and mild temperatures.  Before that it rained and rained and rained, so much so that strange things began to grow in the lawns around our little condo development. Never seen it in 30-odd years here. No idea what variety they are or whether that are edible, but some critter may have taken a bite and found out. The larger one was at least 6 in / 25 cm across.     

 

WONDER WALL

 

Back in the recent archives. Another shot from the river tour boat, looking southwest into downtown. The colorful wall in the foreground is the vacant Cotton Belt Railroad warehouse (where I guess they piled up - cotton?). The Artica festival I feature every fall takes place in front of and beside it. The painting was done by my friends Hap Phillips and his late wife, Nita Turnage. It makes the riverfront glow.