white recluse

July 25, 2012

if any of you out there are only children,
you may agree with me that we are prone to solitude.
it isn’t that we don’t like people, or being with people.
we aren’t antisocial per se, it’s just. . .

we had a lot of alone time during our formative years
and we need to occasionally revisit that feeling of aloneness.

or maybe i’m just projecting my weirdness onto you people. sorry.

regardless! that’s what my prolonged silence has been about;
a bit of isolation in these last quiet months before ‘year two’ begins.

for a good chunk of the time,
i’ve been here, in the bed of my adolescence,
in the house that’s been my home since i was fresh out the womb.

my grandfather was living with my parents for a brief period,
but he’s happily moved out into the old folks home.
luckily, from what i can tell,
‘happily’ is exactly the right word
his unassuming charm (and lack of dementia)
have made him quite the popular chap, apparently.

and so it’s just the three of us,
mom, dad, and i, just as in old times,
bickering, laughing, observing wildlife,
playing pinochle and canasta like fiends.

i never sleep better than when i’m here.

in this room, i’m surrounded by childhood mementos that recall times i know i lived but can barely imagine. i look at photos and certificates and medals and boxes of comics and books and stuffed animals and it’s like i’ve lived three lives already. no wonder i feel old.

i realize just how lucky i am, at 27, to still have a place to come home to, where i’m fed and loved and can wear yesterdays clothes without judgement. the only thing that’s changed is my mom knocks and then
waits for a response before barging into my room.

mostly.

but you don’t really care about my sappy thoughts.
you want at least some fiber content.
unfortunately, i haven’t been all that fibery.
i did, however, do my own personal tour de fleece.
compared with people like helloyarn, david of southern cross fibres, the harlot or frankly anyone else who participated, i am the rankest of amateurs. the fact of the matter is, i’m a slow spinner with very little instruction. the fact that i can make yarn at all is a victory.

i had one simple goal: finish spinning my rhinebeck fiber.
i started it back in april and made a lovely skein.
during my tdf, i made two more.
(mo is serving you french bulldog realness!)

that’s 8oz of corriedale top from …into the whirled in the ‘rendition’ colorway. the skein in the back is the original. the subsequent two are much more fingering-sport weight whereas the original is a sport-dk.
i’m still happy.

you may have also noticed a little mini skein hanging out there with it’s big brothers. that is my real tdf victory. by some miracle, i spun the exact same length of single on each bobbin for the second skein; no leftovers. (i did plying dance of joy that featured some very inappropriate movements) for the final skein, i split my remaining fiber in half, spun my singles, and had quite a bit left over on one bobbin after plying (wtf?). since i only had 8oz to begin with and i wanted to maximize yardage, i decided to navajo ply the remaining single and i’d use it for the cast on or something. after all, this is tdf! i should end with a challenge. (did i mention i’ve never navajo plied?)

now, in knitting, i can pretty much pull of any technique of which i know the theory. in spinning, this is not the case (see above comment about rank amateurity). i’m telling you, bitches, if you had seen the scene of me navajo plying…..not my most graceful moment.

somehow though, i pulled it off. there’s way too much twist in it and my ‘loop lengths’ are in no way regular, but a good soak and one serious thwacking later and i’ve got some decent yarn.

go me.

but just when i feel pretty darn smug about clearing out 70% of my spinning stash, this arrivesthis box contains one special alpaca fleece (thanks sally!)

i have no idea how i’m going to clean, card, or spin this,
but how hard can it be?

sipping a moscow mule

July 20, 2012

just in case any of you were worried
i am, in fact, still alive.

a real post is forthcoming.
until then,

20120720-184232.jpgedith and i are going to spend some quality time together.

tina killed my chicken

July 12, 2012

it has come to my attention,
that the chicken tina named in my honor,
ambrosia,
has gone missing in the woods.
i believe she decided that living with her comrades was boring,
and ran off with a lady-coyote with whom it had fallen madly in love.
the only question is, where will they make their home?

(tina thinks the coyote killed her, but that just seems silly to me. right?)

but let this be a lesson to all of you;
never let your daughters out the coop!
ambrosia, wherever you are now,
i dedicate this song, to you:

you’ll be missed, ambrosia.

luckily,
steven jr. is alive and well.
nice and cool after his first shearing.
i might even get the fleece!
alpaca allergy be damned.

read the post and
send debanhams an email
i think hand knitting should count for something.
help kate show them it does.

coffee

July 3, 2012

dear v.,

i’m staying with new friends in detroit.
up über early, by which i mean
i never went to bed.

i’m at the so-called ‘snooty’ coffee shop, torino.

it.

is.

amazing.

best mocha ever, by far.
(you know i know my mochas!)
whipped cream with visible flecks of vanilla bean
a copy of proust sitting next to me which
i pretend i’m going to crack
and have no intention of reading.

have i mentioned it’s also a bar?
mocha with a shot?
yes, please!
(if only i were so bold at 7:34)

sitting here, looking out at the fucking insane storm clouds, last night’s too-tight black tee the epitome of ‘damp’ (v-neck, bien sûr),
getting up for another

wishing your cutoffs were here,
keeping mine company.

love forever,

steven

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