It's a Black Day for Old Geoff

I've managed my whole day around the idea of wandering down to River Street and seeing Southside Johnny.  Who you may not give a damn about, but I do.

So about ten minutes ago it dawned on me that it must be a pretty quiet festival if I don't hear anything through my window.  So I go online and find out that I'm two weeks early.

Add to this the fact that I, in a creative spasm, cross-mixed (whatever that even means) some really old paint and, while I like the effect, the stuff just doesn't seem to want to dry.  Which is hanging me up quite a bit.

The good news?  The Mets are on in six minutes.  Who you may not give a damn about, but I do.