October 17, 2016
or so i tell myself.
it’s one of those things that sticks
like honey, even after you’ve sucked it
off your fingers. it’s still
i’m catholic in that
i know when someone misquotes the bible
(or uses the wrong bible to quote)
or doesn’t know when something’s
i’m catholic in that
i won’t go to mass anymore
not because i don’t believe (which i don’t)
but because they changed
“and also with your spirit”
is such bullshit.
as i get older,
catholicism (what a horrid-sounding word)
reemerges, like a memory
you’ve forgotten until
you smell it.
today, it was forgiveness.
to forgive, i was taught, is not
for the other person;
that’s a lesson that never made any fucking sense,
one to which i certainly never subscribed instead
simply snipping from view
assholes and liars and
“all people are generally good”
is such bullshit.
some deacon just got his wings, i guess,
(though, only metaphorically, of course)
cuz it’s kind of true what they said.
about forgiveness, anyway. and i feel
January 21, 2016
the great thing about friends
is they give you permission
or in this, particular case
so many “reasons”
kept me from knitting.
but then, a perfect storm:
(there’s another ingredient, a catalyst,
but i can’t write about
i made a hat.and then another.
(apparently, there’s a shawl happening, too.)
and somehow, suddenly,
i’m a knitter again.
January 11, 2016
and my kingdom as great.
You have no power over me.
R.I.P., Goblin King
December 14, 2015
“the city,” specifically.
walking against the flow
of business suits, past
impossibly skinny jeans on
the beer delivery model,
listening to “jumpers” as i pass
buildings older than my country
in search of breakfast where at
i need a reservation,
(a booking, here).
as i sit in hawksmoor
looking at five, other diners
i can’t help but wonder
how i came to live a life
“i’m sorry, sir
we’re out of the lobster benedict.”
there it is.
November 17, 2015
look at me!
i have a f.o. to share!
(project details here)
this shit was completed ages ago;
i made it for the singular sonya phillip.
though i intended to gift it at rhinbeck 2014,
circumstances conspired against me.
but i got it to her!
and she like it!
and she kindly sent a very flattering pic of it!
and i feel like exclaiming about it all over the place!
and this is really all just a way to avoid writing my dissertation!
October 20, 2015
how to talk about rhinebeck.
how to talk about rhinebeck
when you haven’t talked
this was, perhaps,
the most restrained i’ve been
at a fiber festival, mostly just
replenishing those things i always do.
i’m definitely not as deft as i once was;
i dropped a lot of stitches,
my gauge is inconsistent,
and i had to take breaks for achey hands,
but boy did it feel great to knit again.
gotta love that shift in brain waves
brought on by a repetitive action.
so since i was using this paintbox,
i gave myself permission to replace it.
(i couldn’t get a good shot on its own, but you see it in the first pic.
the colorway is steampunk in the kashmir base)
my mom’s been kinda awesome this year in the face of pretty intense stress. so when i saw these two towels that match the one i got her last time, i knew what i was buying from karen this go ’round.
(she doesn’t have a website, apparently,
but if you want more info you can email her here)
then i got my stock of handmade soap from simpler thyme.
a couple lavender, a tea tree, and sandalwood will last me a while.
i also stopped by gene matras’ booth,
stocking up on some of his notecards to sustain my semi-secret paper addiction. (*sigh* another artsy macro shot showing only the ass of the sleepy pig notecard. i guess i’m out of practice with photography as well.
at least you get an idea of the level of detail in his work)
someday, i’m going to get one of his originals.
and i better do it quick; he’s no spring chicken.
this next item i didn’t even have to purchase.
on the anniversary of the annual chili pepper challenge andrea and i inaugurated five years ago at which we (and now most of our housemates) sample the hottest sauce at the wild coyote booth,
old man chili himself gave us each
a free bottle of hot sauce.
he gave me a bottle of buried alive, the sauce that gets its flavor and heat via not one not two but all three varietals of the ghost chili.
this shit does not. fuck. around.
the favorite thing i got a rhinebeck:
a selection of pieces gifted by sonya philip from her microscopy series. this gave me a lot of feels. a lot. i’ve admired sonya’s work since before i even knew who she was. and for her to just give me this work that she made… it meant a lot. i’ll treasure them and give them a place of honor in my tiny house.
well kids, that’s it for the loot.i’m still meditating on how to tackle my rhinebeck post proper.
it was…an incredible retreat from reality, so restorative.
it stirred up a lot of things in me, happy parts of me
that haven’t been a part of my life in a while now.
i’m feeling really lucky to have gone
and want to write it up right.
see you tomorrow?
October 15, 2015
not sure if there’s anyone out there anymore,
but i’m heading to rhinebeck this weekend.
will i see you there?
June 1, 2015
i’m going to europe for two months.
so there’s that, too.
June 1, 2015
have i been going.
the details of which
are relegated to my actual journal.
but shit, man, let me tell you;
this week, i’ve been blabbing
to anyone who’d listen.
asking, “how are you?”
is going to get a real response.
now is not the time to expect pleasantries from me.
i’ve been trying to pull back
from the specifics of what’s been bothering me
to think about what it says about who i am.
(i try to be reflective whenever possible)
and these are the things i know to be true:
i have worked really hard over the past four years to imbricate myself within a network of friends who love and respect me. i would argue that i rarely call upon that network in times of need, emotional especially, but i’ve had to the past couple of weeks and all i can say is my investment has paid off. my work (such as it is) and friendships are on. fucking. point. this year and i’m being consciously grateful for that.
i have also come to realize that in focusing on strengthening certain parts of my personality, work ethic, and friendships, i have created a false sense of security, a kind of bubble if you’ll pardon the lame metaphor. i operate under a delusion that i am in far greater control of my life, or perhaps more accurately myself, than i actually am because i’ve limited its general scope. this means that, when faced with new things, especially things that are unexpectedly difficult and generally foreign to how i live ma vie quotidienne, i am basically a child. the adult, rational part of my brain, overdeveloped through years of academic discipline, is simply inadequate for certain challenges. i’m not sure what to do about that quite yet, but i imagine recognizing a weakness in my character (by which i mean things with which i am unpracticed) is a good first step.
all of this is beginning to sound like an epic subtweet of sorts, a kind of return to the “i know who my real friends are” or “you know what you did” moments of livejournal circa 2004. this is not my goal. my goal is to point out two things:
1. i have come to realize that asking for help is a good thing because i have people in my life who’ll do it without question. i am going to allow myself to be “weak” now and then. (though i’m to make a habit of it)
2. i love the upjohn company for their creation of xanax because god knows i’d never make it through this life without the help of a little western medicine now and then.
setting all this cryptic emotional bullshit aside, (which is suddenly feeling so self indulgent that i should have just written it in my actual journal after all) how about ending on a high note, eh?
i think it’s been roughly 1.5 years
since i’ve knit
a single stitch.
simply an estimate
as i’m far to lazy to confirm)
i’m hoping i can re-access
that meditative quality that
drew me to knitting to begin with
because the alternative is bourbon
and mixing pills and booze, well,
that’s a road one should avoid.
*pray for my gauge
May 5, 2015
part of my writing process
is to use poetry as inspiration,
as a break from writing,
today’s poem has likely been posted here before.
but i’m holding on to it today fiercely,
forcing myself toward a revision
When Butches Cry
by Bonni Barringer
When butches cry
they weep, they wail
They gnash their teeth
Strong woman’s pain
It’s just the same
Except it’s mostly done