I have some serious questions as to whether or not these “Sign the petition!” websites are really just ways for big non-profits to harvest your email and address info, and if they do the cause any good at all. No matter. I’m still surprised at how many people I talk to don’t know what’s going on with Pussy Riot, so at least the above image gives me the opportunity to link to some info about them.
I just started playing around with these – quick little drawings that are “one-liners,” meaning they just involve a fragment of a thought or text.
Long story, but a quick update:
1. I bought one of these.
2. If glitter is the herpes of craft supplies, then spinning is the bath salts of craft processes. (Sorry, there was a kernel of a good joke in there somewhere, but I can’t seem to put it together right now.)
3. By far, the best song ever to spin to is “Black Death” by Wumpscut. Behold:
…that teenage angst never dies.
I don’t even feel like it dulls or gets buried. It’s like, you get better at pretending it’s not there. But it doesn’t go away.
This, I think, is something special and wonderful, and if you’re aware of it, you’re more alive than those people who convince themselves that it’s gone forever. We all have this unruly beast inside of us, making rude jokes and saying awkward things, and just lashing out at everyone and everything. Some people make it shut the fuck up, and some people don’t. But we should all honor it, you know? Instead of suppressing it under a layer of responsibility and (maybe) booze or just life in general, and then letting it peek out when we’re in our 40s and suddenly want to drive a convertible or whatever fucking cliche is gender/sexuality/age appropriate, what about just listening to that voice inside of us that has a shitty work ethic and just wants to never sell out? And who has all these impossibly wonderful and unrealistic visions of what being an adult would be like, as if just aging out of your parents’ house solves everything, and now you’re free. But what if you really are?
Step one: Wake up at 5:30am of your own accord, and go for a run/walk. This is the hardest step. And the hardest part is not actually waking up at 5:30 or starting to move around at a time when all reasonable people are still asleep, it’s accepting that you’re doing so because you want to, and not because of work, natural disaster, or travel-related demands.
After asking yourself, “Do I really want to do this?” with the gravity most people would apply only to life-changing events, you slip outside. Your dog is with you, because he insisted on going with you since clearly it’s not safe to be up at this hour. Suddenly – without warning – the world will just open to you both. The sun is barely coming up; there’s a cool breeze (in summer!) and a whole strange world of people you have never seen before walking, running, exercising. The light is exactly like what it is when the sun is going down, only the shadows are in reverse. There’s dew on everything. It’s gorgeous.
You are filled with a sense of honest-to-god romantic love for the world. And then you come home.
Step two: Go back to sleep. Come in and note your spouse sleeping peacefully. Linger at the side of the bed, taking off your shoes, and notice how soft and welcoming the mattress feels. Note that the sun is just starting to shine in through the blinds, and if you were to just put your head down on your pillow – just for a second – you could have the lovely feeling of the sun on your face. Do it. Then, fall asleep for three hours.
Step three: Wake up, and start your day. Work on your various projects. Run some errands. Walk the dog, again. Do what it is you need to do.
Step four: Fall asleep again. At this point, you’re looking at moving on to Nap #2 and it’s barely noon, and you’ve officially done away with any of the good-character-points that waking up at 5:30 to exercise has given you. Any sort of gain you might have gotten is now totally wasted, but it’s ok because you sleep like you’ve been drugged.
This is where I am now. It’s only 2:30pm, and it feels like I started my day sometime back in 1982. It’s not that I’ve been terribly productive or that I even feel that well-rested. It’s just that the day seems 20+ years longer than usual. Not in an unpleasant way, but in a confusing one.