May 12, 2013
May 3, 2013
May 2, 2013
in keeping with things related to dogs that make me happy . . .
May 1, 2013
i firmly believe that all my happiness originates from the my mailbox.
recently, i’ve received a few things in the mail that have made me happy, but today’s arrival takes the proverbial cake.
this postcard art was made by jen cooney.
jen is, what i would call, a bar friend,
one of those people you see at the bar
and run into each other at all the same events
because you travel in the same, small, queer circle of people
though, for whatever reason, you’ve never really hung out
and your interactions have been largely limited to complimenting one another on the fabulosity of our outfits. believe you me,
you have not lived until you have seen jen cooney
in space face.
she put up a notice on facebook that she was doing mail art
and if anyone wanted one, to just send her their address.
i was a little reticent since, as i’ve said,
we weren’t very close back in the burgh
and i’ve been gone now for two years now.
but my love of mail prevailed and i sent my address.
best. decision. ever.
i tell you what,
this postcard makes me miss the queer community in pittsburgh.
whereas many people loathe the bubble-like insularity of such a small city, i miss those moments in the streets (or whole foods) of chance encounter throughout the city, that nod of acknowledgment that, yes,
we were both shaking a tail feather last night in the same place
and i may have been a hot mess but at least i looked fabulous.
there’s nothing like that here.
somehow, this image perfectly captures the essence of my life
and provided exactly the smile i needed to finish out finals week.
April 23, 2013
here’s a video.
April 16, 2013
this is my fourth attempt at writing about this
because i saw an image that completely traumatized me,
that made me feel
i no longer do.
my brain has learned how to protect me.
at least ninety nine percent of the time
i feel nothing, really.
i just couldn’t handle
this one image
of a man
who is now half a man
if he survives/d.
and all i know now is
i am deeply grateful to have a mom to call crying,
for the joy of friends watching drag queens on television,
for a best friend who talks to me for hours about her life,
but finding the perfect spot in bed.
April 14, 2013
on my way to paris,
i decided to knit a sock.
sock knitting is perfect for airplanes, and
i was drawn to the colorway from the last month of last year’s sock club.
since school timing makes going to maryland sheep and wool impossible,
i decided i would treat myself to a knot hysteria retreat this summer.
and since it’s my tradition to always knit something for the harlot when i see her, the sock would be perfect.
and then, the bomb drops while i’m in paris:
tina and stephanie broke up.
no more sock summits.
no more knot hysteria retreats.
frankly, i’m shocked,
and i know a lot of people are.
within 20 minutes of the post, texts were flying between knitters
asking who knew what? how did this happen?*
never would i participate in yarn-dying melée.
never would i learn more about fiber in a day than i have in the past 3 years. never would i get the chance to spin and knit and make friends and steal my favorite soap that looks like a rock from the port ludlow resort’s maid’s cart. (and i’m on my last fucking bar!)
i made some life-long friends at my first retreat
i learned to spin, just so i could go, and now i’m a spinner.
and now it’s all over.
and there’s this sock
that has no mate, as of yet,
and i can’t seem to bring myself to cast on the next one.
it’s really pretty, and i love this pattern,
but the intension that bore it
can never be fulfilled.
so what should i do?
leave the pair unfinished, in honor of the loss of knot hysteria?
quit whining, knit the second one, and give them away?
**my personal hypothesis is that knot hysteria dissolved because tina and stephanie were sick of dealing with the same whackos that showed up to every single event. i mean, there were some awesome folks who went, people that i love. but some of those regulars . . . if you saw them on the bus, you’d get off and wait for the next one to come. just sayin’.
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
March 27, 2013
as you know,
i give away almost everything i knit.
i try as much as possible to put random positive energy into the universe, since, as @p12tog points out, i’m often an* horribly elitist person, especially when it comes to knitting.
(though i might actually be ok with that)
and since i feel that brighting some random person’s day through the power of the internets is a good investment in my karma because god knows my ubiquitous sarcasm, sass, and bitchiness
require a bit of equilibrium, today’s post
is an attempt at a double dose of karmic balancing.
first, i’m going to give away this boneyard shawl**
(it’s been a bit overcast the past few days)
the yarn is a two-ply fingering-sport weight spun by me
from some into the whirled bfl top i got at rhinebeck back in 2011.
this shawl’s been a loooong time in the making,
what with having to sneak time to spin and knit it
in the 5 free minutes i have every day.
just look at that craftsmanship
ok so maybe i couldn’t get the best macro shot.
just trust me.
it’s very well knit.
i knit it on 7’s and blocked this shit out of it
so it has a great drape and just enough wooliness for you traditionalists.
and here’s where the second dose of good karma comes in-
i rarely ever endorse anything,
(mostly because my readership isn’t large enough to warrant them)
but in this instance, i feel compelled to make an exception.
the short story is a very dear friend of mine in chicago, joshua herrington, started a business called gallerista. i’ve never seen this much drive and passion out of this guy before, and i find i’m quite impressed with his work ethic. recently, he began an indigogo campaign to turn his online business into a brick and mortar enterprise. i decided to blog about it, not just because he’s my friend (because a lot of my friends have some pretty far-out enterprises), but because i believe in supporting both queer-owned business and the arts. neither one has it very easy this days, and since i have no money of my own, really,
i do what i can.
and this is what i can do:
give away my shawl to help him raise some money.
how to win in three easy steps:
1) go to gallerista’s indigogo page and make a donation. my suggested minimum donations is $30 (so that you all can join me at the super secret launch party!) but if you can’t afford 30 dollars, donations in lower denominations are totally fine.
2) share the campaign somehow (tip: there are tools right there on the gallerista indigogo page to help you do that.
3) leave a comment so the random number generator can pick a winner.
i realize we’ve all been flooded with kickstarters and the like.
maybe you don’t even give a shit about queer-owned business or the arts. but i’m pretty sure you do like you some knitting.
so why not spin the wheel?
it’s not every day i spin and knit a shawl!
if you don’t want the shawl
or just don’t feel like donating,
if you could at least tweet or facebook or rav it,
i’ll personally reward you with some karmic princess points.
and if you’re reading this blog,
i’m pretty sure you could use some.
*i even use “an” before h-words.
**can i just say i love this pattern. i may even knit another one.
March 24, 2013
i was drunk and dancing.
there’s something about dressing up,
knocking back one or two shots of jameson,
keeping the buzz going with a bud light,
(which, before you judge me,
i enjoy for their cheapness, lack of flavor,
and because you can dance with one in your hand without
some flailing drunk-ass soaking you in your hard-earned pin money)
while a room full of gays and gay adjacent folks all sing—in tune!—to any number of pop songs from the 80’s – now (in tune) that i find to be
. . . rejuvenating.
on this particular evening,
i was helping a boy ‘celebrate life’.
he’d passed through a rough patch and found himself in a good mood.
can you honestly think of a better reason to celebrate?
and so i danced. hard.
and though today i find i’m a bit sore,
which is likely more a combination of
and crashing in not my bed,
it was very worth it.
why am i telling you all this?
why should you care?
sure, if you’re reading this, you likely like me
(though it’s possible you’re just waiting to see if you won a book.
no worries. we’ll get there. keep reading)
and, since you like me, you like
when i’m happy.
you see, the reason why this story is important is because
last night, i took my first steps toward accepting the aging process.
i’ve had a problem with getting older basically since i turned twenty three. and while i realize that this is an irrational issue and that, in the scheme of things, many people would consider me to still be young, i’m confident that every single person who reads this post also has his or her own “thing” with which s/he obsesses, irrationally.
(do tell me you do so i feel better about myself)
last night, however, two things happened that made me glad i was older (relatively)
1) i ‘pre-gamed’ briefly a the boy celebrating life’s friends house. on average, i was the oldest person in the room by about six years. sitting there on a broken couch, eliciting laughter that was grossly disproportional to the effort i was putting into my repartee, there was a moment in which i left my body and thought, “thank christ i am not this silly”, and then smiled to myself, sitting in blissful ignorance while they talked about the import of something called snapchat.
2) later, in the middle of the dance floor, i ran into a friend from college i haven’t seen since i graduated. i literally screamed multiple times in the highest pitch of which i am physically capable. in that moment, the past six years flashed before my mind’s eye. i’ve been around the world, gotten two masters degrees, kissed all the boys, got mo, fallen in love, kept up a blog (mostly) for nearly four years, almost died, moved four times, lived abroad, taught at a big ten university, and learned to fucking knit, to name only the big things i can think of at 1:30am.
my only real goal in life
is to live a life i can be proud of.
all i want to do is be able to look back on my life when i’m old old
and be able to say that i wasn’t boring.
so far, i’m not doing too badly.
and i guess my progressively sagging skin and longer recovery time isn’t that high a price to pay to maximize fabulosity.
still, i’ll totally blow you for some botox.
the random number generator has spoken
and the following people have won one of my extra copies of colours of shetland:
2 – cauchy09
9 – stepahnie
12 – ashely
you can now all glare at them in jealousy.
however! i will be giving away a handspun and knit fo in the next day or so, so stay tuned, bitches!