May 18, 2012
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.
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.
it’s odd that,
however uncatholic i’ve become,
i remain catholic nonetheless.
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?
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.
March 25, 2012
depending on which side of the family tree you look at,
i’m either fifth or sixth generation michigander.
i’m also the first generation
not to grow up in detroit.
my family emigrated from ireland and settled in detroit
and did all those big life things in the motor city:
burial (i discovered our family plot)
all with a particular irish catholic flare.
my grandmother’s grandfather was chief of police.
my grandfather’s grandfather built a house there for a staggering sum.
(though that might be the german side. not as popular in the family lore)
last time we checked, someone’s still living in it.
the same feeling that made me weep when i found my ancestral knock in co. kerry i often feel when i go to detroit.
getting to know detroit
makes me feel closer to my family history.
it may be silly or illogical or whatever,
but it’s something i enjoy doing.
i was lucky enough to make it to john k. king used and rare books.
(sorry for the photo quality. clouds + iphone + no photoshop = reality)
walking around a factory
that purports to have 1,000,000 books. . .
overwhelming just isn’t a big enough word.
being there ignited the hoarder within
and i left with more books that i need.
while i doubt any of my family members went there
it’s still a really cool piece of detroit history.
and now, it’s part of mine.
February 24, 2012
as museums go,
the nordiska seemed lackluster.
i feel like, for a cultural museum,
there should have been more stuff or something.
but i went for one reason: the knitting.
here are some of my illicit photos:
(can someone give me a tutorial on how to take good illicit museum photos? i need to somehow get good focus and find an angle that doesn’t show the glare from the glass in the thirty second window of opportunity when the museum worker bees aren’t looking. tips?)
but seriously, bitches.
there were drawers full of knitting samples
and all of the other fiber arts.
i know.got that crazy look in my eye.
it’s a tribute to his character that matti didn’t try to escape.
then there was this little display
that reminded me of franklin and his love of all things old.
but all of that was nothing compared to this
the fucking door had been yarn bombed!
that alone made this museum worth visiting.
(yarn bomb by masquerade)
then it was off to the thielska galleriet
to see the eugène jansson exhibition.
is a gay swedish painter know for his use of blue,
his nighttime cityscapes, and use of light (my fave).
i snuck one shot of the highlight of the exhibition
it and his other works were truly moving.
i’m not a big ‘art’ guy, but i still know when someone’s special.
i wouldn’t have even known about this show if it weren’t for matti.
i owe ya one.
the rest of the shots from that day are of the views from the windows
or from outside while we walked from one museum to the other.
not very exciting, but the guards were nazis at the thielska.
still, maybe just a couple highlights:
this one i took for my mom.
christmas cacti are big in my family.
and this one, i took for me
because i love photos where the sun does . . .
whatever it is you call that in photos.
where it’s peaking through and kinda starbursts?
like this one i took a while ago.
what is that called?
who cares, i like it.
you get the idea.
**if you’re not totally bored with my little travelogue, stay tuned for my final thoughts, an adorable dog, my favorite photo of the whole trip, and the knitting.
February 11, 2012
this song is and will always be my jam.rip whitney :(
February 5, 2012
i got a package today.
yes another one.
(i’ve considered changing the blog to ‘bitches get packages’)
but this one didn’t arrive at my doorstep, oh no.
i had to track this bitch down.
stupid post office put that little brown sheet in my mailbox
the one that tells you you have to pick it up, you know?
but it was tucked against the front
so i didn’t see it for 2 days!
so i hauled my ass to ass nowhere lansing
where the post office was holding it hostage.
i handed over the brown paper
and my passport which elicited a
“what in the hell is this?” from the postal worker.
apparently she’d never seen a passport before.
then it took a manager to find my package,
because someone had checked the wrong box or something.
wanna know where it was?
right freakin’ next to the worker bee.
if she had reached 3 feet to her right,
she would have touched it.
now, lest you think me an unfrugal grad student,
this membership is courtesy of an anonymous sugar mama/daddy.
that’s right. someone made a generous donation to the bitches get stitches happiness fund in the form of a rockin’ sock club gift card.
i’m one lucky son of a bitch.
while i actually think that rockin’ sock club is underpriced, especially if you compare it to what you get from other clubs. my guess is tina does it on purpose so more people can afford to be in the club.
she’s cool like that.
(seriously, have you checked out other yarn clubs? crazy pricey!)
still, it’s always been just out of my budget.
don’t get me wrong. i’ve dropped some dough on yarn in my time,
but generally, i’m a layaway guy when it comes to big yarn purchases.
(excluding, of course, fiber festivals or travel. that’s what debt is for)
and because i’m not really a sock knitter,
i’ve never been able to justify sock club.
luckily, i don’t have to!
[insert mental .gif of me doing a salacious victory/booty dance]
ps what should i knit with this?
January 10, 2012
how much i love getting packages?
because i really, really do.
back around my birthday,
when i was in new york turning twenty seven,
a package was sent to my old pittsburgh address.
(this happens when someone moves as often as i do)
it was from blue moon fiber arts.
generally speaking, i know when a package is coming from blue moon
because, generally speaking, i’ve placed an order with them.
not so in this case.
(i think i remember getting a little aroused)
luckily, veronica still lives at the old abode.
i knew it was going to be a while before it was sent on to me,
since, with all the holidays, veronica wasn’t there to forward it.
yesterday, it finally arrived on my stoop. i may have squeed.
(note: can you imagine being me, knowing you have a package, and then having to wait for three whole weeks to get it? brutal)
then i thought of the blog, as i often do.
i thought, this is totally blog worthy; it must be blogged.
(i have so little material these days)
but it was dark out when i got home
and therefore i couldn’t take a good photo.
so i waited.
yes people, i waited until the sun came up so i could properly document the moment and share it with you all.
i believe this shows some growth on my part.
(i need to ask frankie for a refresher on how to shoot true colors)
regardless, these colors are perfect.
you can never go wrong giving me a green,
but this deep purpley blue has this acid yellow on the back
that just. kills me.
the crazy thing is i’ve been planning my rhinebeck sweater
(yes i know rhinebeck is in october, but i will not fail this year)
and i wanted to try knitting some mopsy for it.
it seems like it might be meant to be.
but i kinda don’t want to knit this yarn.
it might go into the precious ‘keep forever’ section of the stash.
we shall see.
the card is unsigned,
but the sender has the handwriting of a serial killer.
that can only mean it came from one person.
edit: i just looked up the description for grawk – raspberries in pond scum drowned in black. loud and just a wee bit obnoxious. attention is what he craves and he will get it. from the primordial ooze, he has risen to wreak a bit of havoc. trickster? definitely! hmmm
January 1, 2012
my best friend told me that i should write a proper year in review. being that she is my role model, i try to always follow her advice.
frankly, a year in review post is probably something someone should plan in advance to do it real justice. but everything i do is last minute. why should this be any different?
the researcher in me says i should go back, review my posts, and try to create some semblance of order. instead, i’m working from memory. i’m going to lie back in my bed, nurse this hangover, and you’re going to bear with me.
last year i travelled to portland for the summit, new york city for my birthday, rhinebeck for the star power, maryland for the sheep and wool, chicago for the memories, and pittsburgh cuz i couldn’t cut the cord. not too shabby. i now know why i’m always broke.
last year i almost died. for the two weeks i was in the hospital, i couldn’t eat, and i lost about 15+ pounds. i had a very rare second round of appendicitis (don’t even ask, i’m just weird) that required two surgeries to fix. i remember them putting in an ng tube and projectile vomiting green poison from my stomach that made that scene from the exorcist look like a sneeze. i think about that experience and how lucky i was to survive. i’m grateful the surgeries worked or i’d be carrying around a colostomy bag and i’d still have a tube up my nose. my stomach now looks like i was stabbed several times, my cute nose (the only facial feature i liked) has a scar from where the tube rubbed it raw, and if i ever want my lip ring back in, i’ll have to get it repierced. but i guess it was worth it. i’m still here.
last year my dad almost died. he flipped his car and injured his brain to the point where he needed minor surgery to relieve the pressure. he lived, thankfully, and only my mom and i can tell that he’s just a little bit different now than he used to be. luckily he was always a weirdo so no one else will notice.
last year my grandpa almost died. he fell and broke his back. he’s almost 90 so it’s not that big of a surprise, i guess, but i don’t have the words to describe how terrifying it is to see someone in so much pain that they are no longer mentally coherent. i remember my first instinct was to run away, and how ashamed that made me feel. he made it through, and his cranky ass now lives with my parents. the cats like to sleep on his pillow.
last year, somehow, my mom got us through all this. she’s a tough cookie. i like her a lot.
last year i had my first proper boyfriend, i guess. i never really wrote about it, or talked about it with my friends much. he is a good guy. he bought me my favorite ice cream without me asking. he would drive me places because he new i liked not having to drive. it ended. it was my doing.
last year a crazy lovely lady in colorado named an alpaca after me. he’s funny and special. he does me proud.
last year i danced my freakin’ heart out with tina newton. that bitch can boogie!
last year i sent my clockwork out into the world to see where it would go. it’s stopped for a long time with one person. i don’t mind, really. maybe it just wants to live there for a while. i know who she is. i’d probably hang around there too.
last year i moved into my first apartment by myself. it’s kind of nice. i don’t wear clothes often. i remember when i was young, i promised myself that, for the first year in my first apartment, i would put a desk at the window and smoke to my hearts content. i have broken this promise. i’m sure that makes my mom very happy.
last year i was terrified to leave pittsburgh. it was the first place since leaving my childhood home that i felt was home. i was terrified that leaving would be a mistake, that my goal of getting a phd wasn’t what i really wanted, that i’d be trapped, and i’d be leaving all these new people i cared about for no reason. i was wrong. i really love my program at michigan state. i have an amazing cohort who really supports each other. i made the right decision.
i know lots of other stuff went down, but i think that covers the big shit. all that really matters is at the end of 2011 and taking my first steps into 2012
i am happy.
December 16, 2011
i’m no buddhist.
by which i mean,
i thoroughly enjoy
and revel in
i desire desire,
in all its many forms:
an unfortunate combination of events meant i would not be able to do anything fun to honor my epic 27th birthday.
(it has special meaning for me)
my longing was all the more poignant because
veronica, my best friend in all the world
and former bitches get stitches model,
would be in new york city,
and had been pleading
with me to come too.
it wasn’t going to happen.
instead, my birthday would entail
a half-bottle of whiskey and blog post
enumerating the many things i want to have,
from extravagant designer leather goods
to a smile from the cute phd student
in the college of ______.
(i need some secrets)
languishing in pre-birthday despair,
i looked at all the $700 flights to nyc,
wishing somehow i would find a grand
tucked in my the crannies of my couch.
then, a miracle. the heavens opened up,
and the expedia.com gods’ light shone down
on poor, wayward graduate student, steven a.,
offering me a round trip flight to nyc for $160.
to any of my peeps in the nyc,
my stay there will be brief.
so let’s coordinate a time
for us to meet up so you
can give me my presents.
happy birthday to me, bitches!
December 5, 2011
finals time = maximizing procrastination.
which means it’s time to write a blog post, right?
in less that two weeks,
i will be twenty seven years old
(twenty seven? fuck i’m old).
this is the age my mom was when she had me.
i’ve always thought it’s cool that, on dec 18, 2011
i’ll have been in my mom’s life for as long as i haven’t.
(does that sentence make sense?)
kinda weird, right?
it also makes me think of those big life goals we’re supposed to reach:
i’ve gone on about it before, so i won’t again.
it’s just one of those times where still being in school
and watching your bank account dip under $100 every week
makes one question if they’ve taken the right path.
in moments like this,
i turn to my alpaca namesake
who is a constant source of smiles here at bgs central.
he’s an unusual alpaca, so i’m told,
(though what constitutes a “usual” alpaca, i’m not sure)
and apparently very friendlythere is no joy in the world like knowing
that, in less than a year on this earth,
the alpaca that shares my name,
is already having three-ways.
my work here is done.
October 26, 2011
i’m trying to finish editing this paper.
(it’s a breech birth as my new friend sandra would say)
rather than listen to the tedious coffee house music,
i put my itunes on shuffle, and this song came on.
that choreography . .
. . . i have no words.
they don’t make ’em like they used to!