these days of leiderhosen

How wildcrazybeautiful is this crocheted dinosaur skull ? (or any crocheted skull for that matter). Grandma was apparently a good influence, particularly where this artist's penis pillows are concerned. And I wonder why nobody comments on this blog. I figure since this blog continues to be a virtual self-pantsing of the twaddle running around my brain, I'm gonna come clean. I am headed to therapy again; my second foray into some hot mental assistance. Honestly: the yearly concentrated conversations I have had with physicians about what the hell is going on my life and the family have helped far more than any mental health professional, but that last mhp was a Doofus of the Highest Order, complete with some very questionable Native American art and his very own Pacific Northwest drum circle. This time, it's a broad and she's right around the corner from my house. She seems very nice on the phone. Let's hope for the best, shall we?

Joe's NYC is one of my favorite photo site of all time. I cruise through the archives, weeks at a time and am never ever disappointed.

George Booth of New Yorker cartoon fame is, aside from The Steven, the artist most able to make me snort coffee out my nose. This umbrella would cause no end of trouble. Today on the walk to work, outside the old apartment building by Addison Annex there were five huge dusty boxes of the sidewalk crammed with old National Enquirers from the early '80s, Reader's Digests and old physics and mathematics books in both Chinese and English. I picked up three unlikely titles with the most marginalia (blue ballpoint, English, very tidy). Inside the cover of Introduction to Mathematical Analysis is a hand written receipt dated March 10, 1961 for a calf purse: $7.96. Reading: Suetonius' Twelve Caesars. Dang this is dirty book! The Scruples of the second century. Pondering: These ghosty meringues Craving: the situation that would require the phrase: "Le sta bene."

My desk: 10:54 PM 10/18. this should provide some insight to my mental state and it always looks something like this on a Amber Danger Label day. Some of the less obvious things on display: An Oakland parking ticket with green envelope (expired parking permit, since remedied) Shopping list with three attempts at spelling anchovies. In pencil. Minor teethmarks. 1 skien of merino (renamed Melinda June) and 1 disappointingly small hank of unspun silk Jury Summons (my fourth since moving here), temporarily ignored. Emergency earrings for when I need to masquerade as a grownup. 1 dangly earring currently in use as cat toy. October BookSense One free range House hippo , yellow. 4 oz. Carbonized Bamboo, very shiny, not terribly elastic, doing an amazing impersonation of silk. Pity the stuff is just as expensive. Das 'Po has said he might accept a scarf out of said stuff. (He hates wool.) I love the Sartorialist , despite my inability to dress myself in anything but Frye boots and Old...

Today's Berkeley protest; Moms Against the War have taken up residence on Shattuck. The ladies have been out there since 7AM this morning. Pink signs. Lots of honking. Nobody is naked yet. Urgent need: Kleenex at Costco. Honestly. To Make : more homemade wheat bread for toast (How I love love love my Kitchen Aid's bread hook; why would one need a bread machine?), vanilla extract (I am nearly out and have 24 ounces of Madagascar beans in the freezer, wrapped up like some amazing hashish stash.) Craving: Chili and cornbread. And maybe a Guinness. Must be the weather.

How utterly wicked is this ?! The next unfinished wheel I get my mitts on is gonna have a flame job at the very least. Currently on the wheel; 4 ounces of carbonized bamboo fiber. Variations on a grey scale with loads of metallic shine, mad ass crazy staple length. The ply doesn't feel as soft as commercial bamboo yet, but I am in the process of doing horrible things to it. I finished plying off a peacock wool with a dark purple merino/silk. (I have discovered that dark purple goes with just about everything.) The skein sat in the bathroom sink for twenty minutes looking like a morose sea slug and is now hanging off a recently freed up doorknob, dripping quietly. This weekend I forced the Steven to watch Hot Fuzz. Great fun. Even better than Shawn of the Dead. Yesterday we went to Grand Lake Cinema for the Golden Age, which I have been waiting forever for. Honestly, Cate Blanchette is just as breathtaking as Elizabeth several years ago and Clive Owen is chew-my-ankles-and-call-me-...