a f.o.

November 17, 2015

look at me!
i have a f.o. to share!
(project details here)

this shit was completed ages ago;
i made it for the singular sonya phillip.
though i intended to gift it at rhinbeck 2014,
circumstances conspired against me.

but i got it to her!
and she like it!
and she kindly sent a very flattering pic of it!
and i feel like exclaiming about it all over the place!
and this is really all just a way to avoid writing my dissertation!

rhinebeck 2015: shamé

October 20, 2015

how to talk about rhinebeck.
how to talk about rhinebeck
when you haven’t talked
about knitting
in ages.

start simple.
DPP_3067the loot.

this was, perhaps,
the most restrained i’ve been
at a fiber festival, mostly just
replenishing those things i always do.

to begin,DPP_3083my rhinebeck knitting.

i haven’t been knitting at all. at. all.
so i started simple with a garter stitch scarf knit lengthwise
using the fiber optic paint box gradient in swamp muck
purchased at rhinebeck in 2013.

i’m definitely not as deft as i once was;
i dropped a lot of stitches,
my gauge is inconsistent,
and i had to take breaks for achey hands,
but boy did it feel great to knit again.
gotta love that shift in brain waves
brought on by a repetitive action.

so since i was using this paintbox,
i gave myself permission to replace it.
(i couldn’t get a good shot on its own, but you see it in the first pic.
the colorway is steampunk in the kashmir base)

then i went to my towel lady, karen tenney,
of hawk meadow mountain handwoven textiles.
DPP_3082(look how artistic that macro shot is)

my mom’s been kinda awesome this year in the face of pretty intense stress. so when i saw these two towels that match the one i got her last time, i knew what i was buying from karen this go ’round.
(she doesn’t have a website, apparently,
but if you want more info you can email her here)

then i got my stock of handmade soap from simpler thyme.DPP_3078
a couple lavender, a tea tree, and sandalwood will last me a while.

i also stopped by gene matras’ booth,
DPP_3084stocking up on some of his notecards to sustain my semi-secret paper addiction. (*sigh* another artsy macro shot showing only the ass of the sleepy pig notecard. i guess i’m out of practice with photography as well.
at least you get an idea of the level of detail in his work)

someday, i’m going to get one of his originals.
and i better do it quick; he’s no spring chicken.

this next item i didn’t even have to purchase.
on the anniversary of the annual chili pepper challenge andrea and i inaugurated five years ago at which we (and now most of our housemates) sample the hottest sauce at the wild coyote booth,
old man chili himself gave us each
a free bottle of hot sauce.
DPP_3081he gave me a bottle of buried alive, the sauce that gets its flavor and heat via not one not two but all three varietals of the ghost chili.
this shit does not. fuck. around.

and finally,
the favorite thing i got a rhinebeck:
DPP_3068 a selection of pieces gifted by sonya philip from her microscopy series. this gave me a lot of feels. a lot. i’ve admired sonya’s work since before i even knew who she was. and for her to just give me this work that she made… it meant a lot. i’ll treasure them and give them a place of honor in my tiny house.

well kids, that’s it for the loot.DPP_3074i’m still meditating on how to tackle my rhinebeck post proper.
it was…an incredible retreat from reality, so restorative.
it stirred up a lot of things in me, happy parts of me
that haven’t been a part of my life in a while now.
i’m feeling really lucky to have gone
and want to write it up right.

see you tomorrow?

*taps mic*

October 15, 2015

not sure if there’s anyone out there anymore,
but i’m heading to rhinebeck this weekend.
will i see you there?

oh yeah

June 1, 2015

i’m going to europe for two months.
so there’s that, too.

dear world.
have i been going.

the details of which
are relegated to my actual journal.
but shit, man, let me tell you;
this week, i’ve been blabbing
to anyone who’d listen.
strangers even.

be warned.
asking, “how are you?”
is going to get a real response.
now is not the time to expect pleasantries from me.

i’ve been trying to pull back
from the specifics of what’s been bothering me
to think about what it says about who i am.
(i try to be reflective whenever possible)

and these are the things i know to be true:

i have worked really hard over the past four years to imbricate myself within a network of friends who love and respect me. i would argue that i rarely call upon that network in times of need, emotional especially, but i’ve had to the past couple of weeks and all i can say is my investment has paid off. my work (such as it is) and friendships are on. fucking. point. this year and i’m being consciously grateful for that.

i have also come to realize that in focusing on strengthening certain parts of my personality, work ethic, and friendships, i have created a false sense of security, a kind of bubble if you’ll pardon the lame metaphor. i operate under a delusion that i am in far greater control of my life, or perhaps more accurately myself, than i actually am because i’ve limited its general scope. this means that, when faced with new things, especially things that are unexpectedly difficult and generally foreign to how i live ma vie quotidienne, i am basically a child. the adult, rational part of my brain, overdeveloped through years of academic discipline, is simply inadequate for certain challenges. i’m not sure what to do about that quite yet, but i imagine recognizing a weakness in my character (by which i mean things with which i am unpracticed) is a good first step.

all of this is beginning to sound like an epic subtweet of sorts, a kind of return to the “i know who my real friends are” or “you know what you did” moments of livejournal circa 2004. this is not my goal. my goal is to point out two things:

1. i have come to realize that asking for help is a good thing because i have people in my life who’ll do it without question. i am going to allow myself to be “weak” now and then. (though i’m to make a habit of it)

2. i love the upjohn company for their creation of xanax because god knows i’d never make it through this life without the help of a little western medicine now and then.

setting all this cryptic emotional bullshit aside, (which is suddenly feeling so self indulgent that i should have just written it in my actual journal after all) how about ending on a high note, eh?

i think it’s been roughly 1.5 years
since i’ve knit
a single stitch.

(this is,
of course,
simply an estimate
as i’m far to lazy to confirm)

but look what i dug up
airports require knitting, right?*

i’m hoping i can re-access
that meditative quality that
drew me to knitting to begin with
because the alternative is bourbon
and mixing pills and booze, well,
that’s a road one should avoid.





*pray for my gauge

revision day poem

May 5, 2015

part of my writing process
is to use poetry as inspiration,
as a break from writing,
as mantra.

knowing me,
today’s poem has likely been posted here before.
but i’m holding on to it today fiercely,
forcing myself toward a revision
finish line.

>fingers crossed<

When Butches Cry
by Bonni Barringer

When butches cry
they weep, they wail
They gnash their teeth
and moan.

Strong woman’s pain
It’s just the same
Except it’s mostly done

finger pressing

January 12, 2015

a little film by one of my inspirations


January 10, 2015

generally speaking,
i am pretty much a misanthrope.
and unabashedly so.

for the most part
i distrust people
and think the world,
on the whole,
is shit.

my general response to the world
has been to create a bubble around myself,
one of as much beauty and acceptance as i can find.

i’m lucky in that i’ve a lot of privilege
relative to the rest of the world;
i’m white.
i’m male.
i’m (excessively) educated.
all things that help to counteract
the palpable oppressive force of the straight world.

(it wasn’t easy growing up queer when i did. at all.)

and so today i find myself nearly moved to tears
(the strange man plastering the walls in my bathroom
is the only thing really keeping me in check)
because i’ve been bombarded from all sides
by random acts of kindness,
kindnesses of which i’m rarely in need
and i would never have expected to receive if i were.

it began at the red hook in ferndale,
a coffee shop i frequent semi-regularly.
for whatever reason, i only had my debit card on me, and
for whatever reason,
it was declined.

which is odd,
as i just got paid yesterday.

the worker bee shrugged it off,
telling me not to worry about it,
and waited on the next customer.

i was,
of course,
a little chagrined
but figured i’d pay for it the next time i was in,
chalking it up to one of the small perks of being a regular.

but then i realized that i’d just ‘bought’ a bagel
at the new york bagel baking company
not ten minutes prior.
i recalled the lady saying she needed to run my card again.
on the second swipe told me i was “all set”
and i headed off to the red hook.

i can only surmise
that she spared me the embarrassment
of telling me my card was declined
and just gave me my bagel.

my middle class guilt made me queasy
and i vowed to tip big the next time i bought a bagel.

then the final straw.
as i headed home i realized i was low on gas.
very low.
so low,
i wasn’t sure i’d make it home.
i found a single dollar in that compartment
between the driver and passenger seats
(what the fuck is that called, anyway?!)
enough for about a half a gallon.

about two miles from home,
with my fuel meter telling me i had 0 miles left,
i pulled over to a gas station,
handed the attendant
my sad little dollar,
and pumped the .56 gallons of gas into my tank,
plenty to get me home to my wallet and another gas station.

as i hung up the pump,
the attendant’s voice came over the speaker
telling me, and anyone else in hearing for that matter,
that the man in line behind me said that
he’d put $20 on my pump if i wanted.

a wave of unfamiliar emotion came over me,
some combination of
what i can only describe as
a combination of fear, shame, and humility.

i declined,
shouting, “no, no, that’s ok!”
with no clue how the attendant could hear me,
quickly hopped in my car
and spend away home.

i’m not sure what to say about all this.
i just knew i needed to write it all down as soon as possible.
i knew i needed to document what happened to me because, somehow,
it’s important.

i don’t know what it means,
i don’t know what my reaction says about me.
i think maybe it’s actually very sad
that such small kindnesses
could disconcert me so.
that people being kind
is so outside my personal experience
that the experience of kindness overwhelms me.

perhaps that proves i am right,
and the world is just as shitty as i think it is.

but at least for today,
i’m grateful
that it was less so.

vaginal knitting

January 9, 2015

this. is. amazing!

one small step for man

December 3, 2014

one giant leap
IMG_3837-1for my ego


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 755 other followers