The · Affected · Provincial’s · Almanack

We had originally decided to spend a quiet evening at home for New Years Eve, but after being quarrantined with God Knows How Many Contagious Maladies all week, we admitted to each other that we craved the company of others. So we made the eleventh-hour decision to accept a last-minute invitation to a gathering at the Fishtown Compound in Ye Olde Philly.

We came in from a rainy evening to find our host Norm's house abuzz with activity of all sorts. There were the usual suspects--a mishmash of our fellow artists and musicians--but there was also a woman dressed head to toe in a white sheet with a headlamp and a marionette doing impromptu performances; gentlemen fresh from four-year stints in Senegal with a slew of interesting Peace Corps stories; and an unexpected but welcome handful of lovely folk from Virginia who decided on the spur of the moment to drive six hours and arrive unannounced to set up a tea bar, where everyone could sample all sorts of obscure cave-aged teas from China and Afghanistan--very educational, actually. Like you, I love discovering new pleasures, new reasons to love being alive.

The new year was rung in, drummed in, chimed in, danced in and sung in with an almost deafening, Brazilian abandon. It was a joy to watch the gentle chaos unfold, as this particular tribe is on a first-name terms with Eros, so their licentiousness is of a sweet variety, and doesn't feel unseemly in the least. You dig?

Being a bit under the weather for the third time in as many weeks, I was forced to serve in an ornamental capacity, but as always Lady P's sweet lady-nectar attracted many buzzing young suitors on the dance floor (I am being smacked for typing this in, actually). I satisfied myself with joining forces with the aforementioned White Witch, and did a plaintive puppeteering performance on a dish of Senegalese casserole. In other words, a typical New Years Eve.

( Some pics from the evening )~W

Friend and renowned photographer Adam Wallacavage owns a Victorian brownstone on Broad St. in Philly. He hosts a party every New Year's Day, since the Mummers Parade--a local tradition that goes back before the founding of the United States and the oldest folk parade in America--goes right by his door. The parade was postponed due to rain, but the revelry, taxidermy, very large fireworks, and delicious split-pea soup went on. I had a lovely chat with Ryan from the wonderful band Mahogany. I then followed the lovely and talented Liz to her third-floor studio, where she keeps her plants and a huge cage full of parakeets. I admired some of her diaphanist drawings, and lent some advice on how she might keep her nepenthes plant alive over the winter--namely, showering with them, as I do (although I face away from the plant when I do so, for obvious reasons).
( More pictures behind yon cut )~W