Category "Book of Days"
August 9, 2005
mystical plant blindness
Last night my body was wracked with unexplicable pain in a multitude of areas. As a result, i writhed wretchedly for what seemed like an eternity, eventually contorting myself into some strange position and passing out. No surprise then, that i had strange dreams:
i was in some kind of department store, in the area allotted to fancy/ugly bridesmaid type dresses. My vision kept getting blurrier and blurrier and, looking in a mirror, i realized that i had an unhealthy looking gash on my forehead, beneath an overgrown patch of bangs. Searching for someone to help me with my predicament, i found a sales girl who, when questioned, appeared to be having similar symptoms. We checked out the store first aid kit and found some hydrogen peroxide. i decided this was not enough and we went on a hunt for a cure to our mysterious illness. After wandering through a sort of dungeon, i found a youth at a checkout counter who wanted to give me some kind of strange swab, though i (rightfully i think from the rather scruffy and generally unclean look of him) didn't really trust him. Exiting through the Asian garden, we passed through several obstacles in the stone-laden terrain. Eventually, we made it back to the vicinity of the store, which was now part of the garden and discovered that we were merely transforming into mystical plant nymphs. i was quite pleased with myself and knew that the thorny vines sprouting from my head signified that i was indeed the more imbued with vegetal puissance.
It was certainly better than the other night, when i was bleeding through my eyeballs in some cheap French clinic. There does seem to be a theme, however...
Category "Book of Days"
July 18, 2005
Bicycle Thievery in 3 Easy Steps
1. Monitor local Villain and partner for bike usage
2. Note location
3. Snip chain whilst unsuspecting ghetto dwellers sleep
Voila! Easy as lying!
My bike has only been stolen once; J's, twice. Apparently the Purple/Hot Pink Confection given to yours truly by Taryn was not worth their time. Humph! In an effort to find something that is worth their time, I bought a new bike. It was a Target special and I LOVE IT. Now that I can finally ride it, it is a joy to behold. It did involve, however, a rather lengthy ordeal:
6:13 PM: bought bike
7:45 PM: left for dinner at Punch, yummy pizza napoletana
7:48 PM: glass lodged in tire causes tire to deflate
7:48 30s: Villain goes berserk, frightening J and eventually ending in hysterical PMS induced sobs
8:15 PM: buys patch kit
8:45 PM: finishes patch job
9:15 PM: V and J eat delicious, greasy pizza at Punch and a good time was had by all
9:45 PM: gets dark
9:47 PM: V and J leave for home but discover that patch is useless and tire is flat again.
9:50 PM: attempt to fill tire at gas station, loud wooshing sound indicates failure
10:00 PM: J (and V a little) *carry* bike several miles to a gas station and lock it there, to be claimed in the morning
It was perhaps more of a fiasco than can be indicated by this little timeline. I applaud my strong (and uncomplaining) boyfriend to the last. Thanks, J!! I bought a new innertube and replaced it this afternoon. It really wasn't that difficult and I certainly wasn't about to pay $10 to have it fixed at the shop when I can do it for $2.50. Seems to be working so far. I removed all of the sparkly decals, even the one that made it known to the world that this bike is called "Great Divide". J thought that was a pretty funny name for a woman's bike, even when I noted to him that the men's version is called the same thing. I like to think of it as some kind of feminist statement.
I am supposed to be working on the game I will be storytelling tonight. Unfortunately, all I feel like doing is eating chocolate and chocolate icecream.
Category "Book of Days"
July 15, 2005
The Digital Revolution
Last night, I had a vision of the future. Well, it was actually a dream and so it was really about this technicolor version of the Alps with carnivalesque lawn adornments, cheap motels, and a terrifying vertical train. The violet caped mask things were really billowy and neat, but the actual vision was in the digital camera that i used to capture them. In the dream it wasn't actually the quickest snapper in the lake, but i will pass over that fact and wallow in its sheer loveliness (it was a dream after all...) I have decided to take the plunge and throw a couple hundred dollars at a piece of technology that may be out of date in a week, but oh well. Here it is:
It is on the SLR model (though does that really mean the same thing with a digital camera??) and this means that i can just look through the little viewfinder we all know and love instead of at some puny, hard to see screen. I find the screen hideously disorienting and the pseudo-viewfinders that never actually show you what you are taking a picture of, just as bad. Down with parallax! Up with through-the-lens! I feel like i have abandoned my well-loved film cameras, but they have just become so impractical.
I wanted to walk into a store and say, "I want to be a part of the Digital Revolution. Where do I sign up?" but alas, I am buying it from Amazon, so no contact with a humanoid is required.
I still get to be part of The Revolution, though, right??!
In other news, i finished the second sleeve of Kyoto last night at work and will start on the sash this afternoon. It feels so slow. This is due to my need for the ever-illusory "progress". One sweater in the bank. Only three million to go.. then i'm done.
Also, the Aquatenniel Block Party is tonight. Don't know who that headliner is, probably someone popular. I want to see Mike Doughty, formerly of Soul Coughing. Ah, i remember those sweet days of "Screenwriter's Blues" and "True Dreams of Wichita". It almost reminds me of college, but of some mythical, totally happy college experience that was not truly mine. Not sure if even he could live up to the 2001 headliner, though. I can't believe i missed pat Benatar!!!!. Damn, i love Pat Benatar. Too bad the video is so grainy on the site and "Warrior" is missing. "Love is a Battlefield" is pretty good, though. There is a sort of Sin City/Old Town vibe when she starts messing with that pimp. Tough bitches rule.
Category "Book of Days"
July 13, 2005
a season in hell
I am an academic. This fact might not exactly jump to the front of your mind when you read my oh-so-intellectual musings on Kidd Video and gauge swatches. I might not be committed to the profession from the very depths of my shriveled little soul, as J is, but nonetheless, it is what I happen to do. Except during the summer. Then, I revert to housewifery and internet addiction. The well nigh 4 months of summer break are a veritable wasteland for my brain. It is really less like hell and more like the mandatory waiting period that one endures in purgatory. Then I decided it would be a great idea to take a summer lit course in French. Well, turns out this little school girl isn't quite ready for such a course. I dropped it. This action makes me feel all queasy and nauseous, as if by my very existence I am a disgrace to the profession. This is, of course, not true. However, I have never dropped a course before (at least not in my recollection) in all of my million years of being in school. It was really the only option and does open the rest of the summer up for things that I really should have been doing in the first place such as:
Kant: the current bane of my existence. I have an Incomplete in a course. Thus, I am forced to wade through his bizarre reasoning and convoluted language once again. Damn you for being the cornerstone of western aesthetix. Damn you. Soon it will be over. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.
In other news, The Wittgenstein Youth Brigade meeting was... interesting. All I can really say is that, to this school girl, incessant name-dropping and smarmy obfuscation is quite useless and tantamount to academic dishonesty.
On a brighter note:
I love jackalopes. And demon rodents, too. My new Threadless t-shirt came in the mail yesterday. I will be proudly wearing it to Knittin' Kittens tonight. I have been waiting for months and months for this to be reprinted. It is all I could have hoped for. Perhaps if I touch the shirt with a narwhal horn while reciting the right spell formulation, they will come to life and live with me forever and ever.
Well, back to the Kant mines. Wish me luck.
Category "Book of Days"
July 5, 2005
the joys and perils of sleeping in
I never seem to sleep very well. There are the nightmares, and possibly more fatally, the fact that any little noise or hint of a noise will wake me up. Thus, I wake up a lot. Last night it was about four times. This might not seem like very much to the average Jane, or someone with like, a baby or something, but it is a lot to me. Consequently, I did very little today besides drive J to work at what seemed like an ungodly hour and finish a project that has been sitting in The Pile for a very very long time.
Once upon a time.... I dyed a bunch of Lamb's Pride with kool-aid and set about making the second sweater of my knitting career. It was based on Glampyre's Bad Penny and ended up alright... except that the sides were all poochy and weird and it was overall lumpy and just too darn big. Blocking ended up doing a bit more harm than good, and it ended up a li'l scratchy from where it wanted to felt. Then, one day, I found Bonne Marie's tips and voila! the possibilities were endless. Of course, I didn't have a sewing machine or any clue of how to use one, but nevermind. Later in the story, our heroine stumbles upon such a wondrous device. Many many moons later, she works up the courage to attack and fells the savage beast-sweater. A good number of zig-zag stitches later, she blocks the beast and wears it on a rather-too-warm-for-such-attire Minneapolis day. (first person/third person confusion, oh my!!) This is the first time that I have steam-blocked anything and I think I am in love. I have feared my iron for too long. I just steam-steam-steamed my way to a straight little seam that was, gasp, dry and ready to use! My current method involves towels on the hall floor and tripping over sweaters for days at a time... not to mention that the water isn't doing my hardwoods any favors. (but hell, I live in an apartment, so let them deal with it...not like they've come to fix that ceiling plaster that I was supposedly put on the list for 2.5 years ago...) In conclusion: steam-blocking = yummy. I can even smell some residual kool-aid...
Category "Book of Days"
May 20, 2005
the bad beginning
This being my first real entry besides some ol' photos, I should make it at least moderately readable. I suppose I wanted one of these damned things because most of my real-space friends are not quite as, well, obsessive about this whole knitting thing as I seem to have become. (ain't that the truth adds a smart-mouthed boyfriend)
My lovely raging hormones keeping me from playing well with others, for a large part of work today I sat by myself on the 3rd floor of the museum, knitting Cold Shoulder by Glampyre in a delicious red (Cascade Sierra). Lots of little old ladies thought it was oh-so-cute. Mostly, I wanted them to go to hell, but you know. We are doing this show on a contemporary illuminated manuscript and since I work at the museum shop, Christian Capitalism can be seen daily rearing its ugly head. My gauge is off in places, but I think that a good blocking will set it straight.
All of my current projects (Naturwolle cardigan, cold shoulder, boyfriend sox) are on rather small needles and not progressing quite as quickly as I'd like. I had to make a little shoulder warmer on some honkin' 15's (2 days) just to feel like I'm actually accomplishing something. I have a sort of residual belief in "progress", some kind of archaic holdover from the modernist paradigm. When will I ever learn?
Of course, I always seem to pick just the wrong time to undertake projects in which I expect immediate results. For example, this little blogging adventure. Who knew that hormones could make such short work of what tenuous grasp on sanity I had left? I did, I guess, but I trudged on nevertheless. Sadly, part of my hysteria managed to be contagious and until J and I got some yummy Punch pizza, we were both looney tunes.
In other news, yesterday some guy was clubbed to death with a baseball bat a few blocks from my apartment. I heart the ghetto.