April 13, 2013
the worst part about traveling, is coming home,
not just because you must return to your real life,
but because everyone feels entitled to a detailed account.
it begins with their eyes lighting up,
their voice switching into a higher register
and, on the verge of orgasm, they ask,
“how was paris?”
i’m not sure why it annoys me, really.
part of it is that it seems so phony, that
people are not interested in what my time was like
as much as they are trying to live vicariously through my experience.
which points to, what is likely, the bigger reason it annoys me;
maybe i just don’t want to share my exeperience!
maybe i just want to keep it to myself and treasure it!
why are you entitled to information about my life
just because you asked?
this response has led to many a confrontation between my mother and i since she feels it’s basic courtesy to express curiosity in the lives of the people you care about, whereas i feel if i wanted to share something, i would bring it up. i fully recognize that my response to people’s inquires is completely not normal though so is most of how i live my life.
why should this be any different?
i feel some obligation to blog about paris,
though i completely forgot to go to the one yarn store i wanted to see
so there’s no knitting content.
and no, i won’t tell you why i forgot,
though i promise, it was well worth it!
and so, je vous donne:
1. first propeller plane ride – yyz to cdg
2. view from mon appartement
3. first moments in paris or a few of my favorite things
4. sparklers in our dessert? why not?!
5. pg ‘guys with iphones’ shot
6. friends. . .
7. and colleagues
8. grandma’s sunglasses in paris
9. quasimodo the duck
10. best representation of marriage i’ve ever seen
11. notre dame’s fine behind
12. late-night snack
13. chocolate cat
15. best lunch with fellow only, place de la contrascarpe
16. tango in paris
17. & 18. square jehan-rictus, montmartre
19. aimer c’est du désordre . . . alors aimons!
20. arlette denis, la chanteuse de montmartre
21. first timer
22. she was playing yann tiersen
23. view from la basilique du sacré coeur de montmartre
24. view of la basilique du sacré coeur de montmartre
25. mo’s distant cousin
26. only child tourists
27. historic immeuble (supposedly) the first built specifically for artists
28. fetus street art
29. parisian parenting outside saint-sulpice
30. cute boy, cute shoes
32. piano man à côté de la fontaine saint-michel
33. cole haan, swollen feet in the rue de l’hirondelle
34. view from pont royal
35. accidentally got off at wrong métro top to this view
36. quickly took a tourist shot before the light show ended
37. then we froze our asses off on the tower itself
38. first timer
39. last morning
40. ready to go
41. ma porte
October 29, 2012
when one is feeling particularly stressed
it is best to have some healthy coping mechanisms.
for what use would it be to shoot up heroine every time you had a deadline?
it’d feel awesome.
but then there’s the whole addiction thing to contend with.
heroine chic is so over.
when i am particularly stressed,
as i am and will be until wednesday,
i turn to my old standbys:
1) do work – actually being productive does a lot to alleviate stress.
2) clean my bathroom sink – you don’t realize how dirty it really is.
3) eat – less healthy, but sometimes i need some extra carbs.
4) snuggle mo – mitigates my guilt at his being alone so often.
5) caffeine intake – it’s a legal drug that feels good and aides #1.
6) xanax – cheap, legal, and proof that western medicine is awesome.
but you can’t always turn to your standbys,
because perhaps you’re in the wrong mood
or you’ve used one and it wasn’t enough.
in these moments,
i did deep
and try to recall something i saw on the internet that made me happy.
this video does that for me.
(4:42 is particularly good)
i don’t know why, exactly.
i only know i owe a debt to adrienne martini for bringing it to my attention.
i think i just discovered there’s a mouse in my apartment.
edit: just noticed this was my 300th post. go me.
October 5, 2012
just popping in to ask my fellow dog owners for advice:
i’m thinking of getting mr. mo a friend for christmas,
but i’m too nervous to commit.
here are my thoughts:
mo would be alone less
there are a lot of dogs who need a home
i am an animal lover in general
but my real reservation is that it’s been just me and mo for four years now. somehow, i worry i’ll play favorites or won’t love the new addition as much. i’m sure there’s also the ever-present general fear of change in there as well. but i’m an only child so i have absolutely no concept of how a parent can love two kids equally. it just doesnt compute in my brain. and while i know it’s not the same because these are dogs, it’s the closest comparison that i can think of.
August 5, 2012
i’m having a lot of trouble articulating why i feel what i feel. it seems rather absurd, really, that upon reading of her death, i burst into tears. it makes no sense that one of mexico’s most beloved (and controversial) singers would be a hero to a white dude from michigan who doesn’t even speak spanish. but there’s just something about her life and music that . . . *sigh* i don’t know. she was a person who lived a hard, beautiful life and i admired her for it. for whatever reason, she meant something to me.
if you listen to paloma negra, and you don’t feel anything, i could never hope explain it to you. that’s the only way i can think to put it.
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.
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.
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?
July 20, 2012
July 3, 2012
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.
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?
(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.
June 11, 2012
June 10, 2012
i don’t have cable.
which means i only have netflix to connect me to the outside world.
over the past few years (yes i haven’t had cable for years now),
i’ve pretty much watched everything worth watching on netflix,
and ever since they had that whole quickster debacle,
i swear they haven’t had added many new streaming movies.
this has made me desperate.
and so i’ve found myself completely obsessed with deadliest catch;
if i think about it objectively,
i am sitting here for hours on end
watching men fish!
who does that‽
but the point of this post is not to discuss how odd my tv habits have become. rather, i want to explain the power television has over me.
i’ve been watching this show for two days now.
today, i ate king crab for dinner (thanks mom!)
and now, i’m fighting the urge to buy this.
knowing that i only want it because it has the name/logo of my favorite boat does nothing to change the fact that i want it desperately.
nor does it even occur to me that it might be odd
that i even have a favorite boat.
i’m sitting here,
watching men fish,
and seriously considering spending $13.99 on a fucking mug.
and i don’t even use mugs.
there is something very very wrong with me.