a debt to adrienne martini

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?
i mean
sure
it’d feel awesome.
but then there’s the whole addiction thing to contend with.
and besides,
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.

thanks adrienne.

also,

i think i just discovered there’s a mouse in my apartment.

*sigh*

edit: just noticed this was my 300th post. go me.

dear dog owners,

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:

pros
mo would be alone less
there are a lot of dogs who need a home
i am an animal lover in general

cons
cost
extra work
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.

maybe i can just bully my mom into getting convince my mom she needs a dog so mo can have play dates when he visits his grandparents?
thoughts?

i was going to write one of my typical posts,
but i just found out that one of my heroines, chavela vargas, died today.
somehow my swatch just doesn’t seem that important anymore.

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.

chavela vargas was one of the 20th century’s bravest, most important lesbians, and i worry history will forget that.
at least i won’t.

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.

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

choices

June 11, 2012

the sock progresses,
but this pesky french midterm is getting in the way.
life is so hard sometimes.

television’s bitch

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;
i cannot
stop
watching it.

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.
christ!
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.

care to join me?

first, allow me to clarify my last post:
my dad had some surgery.
it went well.
he’s home now.
it may have been a little mean
casually mentioning i was in a hospital
but wasn’t it a good suspense builder?

currently, i’m headed off to a reclusive week in oregon;
my exact whereabouts are known by a select few.
more on that later as things develop.
but i can’t go off on one trip
before i fill you in on my last one.

one of my dearest friends in the world, caroline,
got married last weekend on the outskirts of chicago.
frankly, weddings and marriage aren’t really my thing,
but she’s one of those friends where not attending was unthinkable.
there are few people in my life that i can say i have been friends with for more than a decade; caroline is one of them.

veronica went as my date,
and i’m really glad i brought her along.
because as soon as i saw caroline in the church,
standing in her wedding gown, ready to walk down that aisle,
i fucking lost it.

seriously.

i cried.

it was a quiet, dignified cry,
but i cried in public nevertheless.
it didn’t help that care was crying as well,
but i really can’t explain why, exactly, i cried.
i couldn’t tell you why if my life depended on it.
but it did.

luckily the priest started talking,
and his spiel about god and love
turned my tears to a frown.
still,
it’s odd that,
however uncatholic i’ve become,
i remain catholic nonetheless.

for instance.

even though i thought most everything the priest said was some strightup bullshit, i was totally pissed at the people in front of me who were chewing gum, irritated by the fact that we don’t kneel anymore apparently, and baffled by the new ‘version’ of the mass.

how can i care about stuff like that
when i find the content of the situation to be . . . unpalatable?

i digress.

the important thing
is that there was something special about being there to witness an event that was meaningful to one of my best friends.
i feel really lucky to have been there.
plus i looked totally fly.

as for the rest of my trip to chicago . . .
it would take too long to tell you everything.
instead, i give these two photos:
i think that about sums it up.

see you in portland, bitches!
p.s. i’m publishing this on a plane! my broad-ass shoulders may be crammed between into the middle seat, but wifi at 34000ft makes life worth living!

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