I never really got Madonna and she always left me cold. Lady Gaga, however, is a different story entirely. I think she's freshened up pop music a lot, which is partly about the costumes and moves, but also partly because she just plain writes kick-ass songs. I think Bad Romance is an insanely great song, and spent a while last night watching different live performances as well as the official video on YouTube.
That song also made me think of a couple of bad romances in my past -- one where a guy was bad to me by cheating on me (in what had been clearly declared a monogamous relationship). The other one, the guy was just plain bad to me; the role-playing increasingly seemed like a way for him to take out all of his frustrations and angers, as well as playing out his fantasies. There was only something in it for me if my fantasies happened to coincide with his. Selfish, selfish, selfish. We were both interested in a dom/sub fantasy, but those roles are supposed to be played out of caring and out of a true need to fulfill the other person's fantasies as well as one's own. I guess no one explained that to him, although I tried. He was more of a sadist than a dom, I guess. Or maybe just a rotten person. But that really was a bad romance, where everyone's worse angels came out to play.
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Thursday, May 27, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
the blogs
I subscribe to about 80 blogs; I just checked the number today, out of curiosity. It's crept up quite a bit. Pretty eclectic mix, too. I confess that a good handful of them involve kittens, generally the blogs of nice people who foster litter after litter, like the Itty Bitty Kitty Committee. I also subscribe to a lot of music blogs, some personal blogs, a bunch of food and restaurant blogs, and one design blog.
I force myself to read the design blog because I am SO not-interior-design-minded and thus do not maintain an attractive interior in my home. This is something I consider a major flaw. I like to think I tend toward the aesthetic in a lot of ways -- I make jewelry, for God's sake! -- but I have no home design chops at all. This is partly because I've always lived in rented spaces which never felt permanent, and so I didn't want to put in much effort or money, and often did not have the money anyway. The apartment we're in now is way the hell too small, in case I haven't mentioned that a thousand times before, and I guess I'm not inclined to beautify it because I hate it. In fact, I heard that one of the front apartments in this building might become vacant, and I might want to make the move, even though it's no bigger, because the light is better. But what I really want is "out", not "here decorated." We've had to make some improvements to get the place a little tidier, but I don't think it will ever be sufficient or nice.
(It is I, mistress of getting sidetracked!)
Anyway, the two consistently funniest blogs I read are Regretsy and Old Jews Telling Jokes.
Regretsy basically finds weird or ugly things on Etsy, which is kind of the artsy-craftsy eBay, and makes comments about them or makes fun of them in some other way. (One of the mottos of the site is "Handmade? It looks like you made it with your feet!") I guess it particularly tickles me because I'm artsy-craftsy too, and somehow find bad or tasteless crafts really funny.
Maybe that's the same reason I like Old Jews Telling Jokes -- I'm also one of them. But it's more than that -- the site and its daily videos are beautifully designed and produced, down to the theme music (I'd like it even if it weren't produced by my old friend Henry Sapoznik), a bouncy Dave Tarras klezmer ditty. They also get a really interesting and cool assortment of people to tell the jokes, mostly retired (anything from a dentist to a former president of MGM), the occasional well-known face (the actress Suzanne Shepherd). They are all very, very funny. And even the jokes I haven't heard before are clearly classics. Also, if you like to tell jokes, you may have a favorite joke that you've told many, many times over the years. And you kind of experiment and hone it and get your timing down. That's what this site is like -- people who have made their favorite jokes perfect after telling them for 40, 50 years.
I like to tell jokes myself, and have actually retold a few that I heard on OJTJ. I always tinker with it, same as I do with recipes and jewelry instructions. But many of the ones I've been telling for a lot of years are Jewish jokes, some of which were told to me by my mother. (She could tell a mean joke, usually not dirty, but often involving cursing.) There's one I love that has slightly outdated references to Golda Meir, Abba Eban, and Moshe Dayan -- and, come to think of it, a second one that also references Moshe Dayan. Oy vey. I can only tell it to other old Jews. My favorite non-Jewish jokes tend to be animal jokes, which never age. Here's one that doesn't suffer from being read rather than heard: What do you do if an elephant has three balls on him? Walk him, and pitch to the giraffe. (This is actually both an animal joke and a baseball joke, which has to be extra points.)
Well, my entire family is/was frustrated show-biz types of various stripes. Actors, directors, book-and-lyricists, opera singer -- none of us every pursued it hard enough or if we did, never succeeded. So we tell a lot of jokes and stories.
Which reminds me -- there's a comedian named Louis C.K. whom I think is absolutely brilliant. I recently saw a stand-up show that he did a couple of years ago, and in fact watched it twice in two days. His timing, and his movements are so spot-on, so practiced and so skillful -- and yet so subtle that you feel like you're just listening to a guy talking smack. I have to say, his act is extremely vulgar (which is a plus for me, maybe not for everyone), but he is so charming that you kind of don't mind. At least I don't. He's the first stand-up I've seen in many years who's made that kind of impression on me.
OK, one more pop-culture sorta thing, though it's also a personal thing. Last week, we were watching The Cleveland Show (and just shut up if you don't think a woman over fifty should be watching cartoons, just leave me alone), and there was this character who was on for a very short time, with kind big hair, and when he spoke, I said to Barry, "That was David." He said, "What?" I said, "That was Lynchie, that was his voice." Then I forgot about it, but we just watched Sunday's episode tonight, and there he was again. I watched the credit, and sure enough, it was he. Him. I mean, how cool was that, David Lynch on The Cleveland Show? Much cooler than being on The Simpsons (which everyone's done) or even Family Guy. Go David!
I cooked dinner tonight for the first time since I hurt my foot some weeks ago. I think we were both happy to eat home-cooked food again. I made broiled wild salmon with teriyaki and ginger; sauteed zucchini, baby pattypan squash, and spinach with a lot of garlic and basil; and a mesclun salad with avocado (I've been using a Bragg's ginger salad dressing that is just fine with everything). Teriyaki salmon is always a winner around here, and even though Barry shies away from certain healthy things (whole grains, whole grain bread, broccoli and cauliflower), he likes salads, most greens, and even tofu. He eats fish that is boneless and not too fishy (salmon, sole/flounder, and red snapper filets), and also squid and shrimp. (Our local fish store is kosher, so no squid or shrimp there, but sometimes one of us goes down to a Chinese supermarket that has great fish and grabs some shrimp there).
It's just been nice getting the kitchen up and running again. I cooked myself breakfast this morning (Barry went out early to his job-counseling place), and enjoyed that a lot. Going through a few weeks of take-out was of course expensive, and sometimes healthier than others. We ordered quite a few times from a very nice Kosher/vegetarian place nearby. They serve fish, but the emphasis is on vegetable dishes. They do a killer Southeast Asian Stir Fry with brown rice, that kind of thing. And a great grilled tuna wrap. (I've heard that certain kinds of tuna are not sustainable, but I'm not really up on the should- and shouldn't-eat fish, for which I feel guilty. I don't eat that much fish, but that's not a good excuse.)
I force myself to read the design blog because I am SO not-interior-design-minded and thus do not maintain an attractive interior in my home. This is something I consider a major flaw. I like to think I tend toward the aesthetic in a lot of ways -- I make jewelry, for God's sake! -- but I have no home design chops at all. This is partly because I've always lived in rented spaces which never felt permanent, and so I didn't want to put in much effort or money, and often did not have the money anyway. The apartment we're in now is way the hell too small, in case I haven't mentioned that a thousand times before, and I guess I'm not inclined to beautify it because I hate it. In fact, I heard that one of the front apartments in this building might become vacant, and I might want to make the move, even though it's no bigger, because the light is better. But what I really want is "out", not "here decorated." We've had to make some improvements to get the place a little tidier, but I don't think it will ever be sufficient or nice.
(It is I, mistress of getting sidetracked!)
Anyway, the two consistently funniest blogs I read are Regretsy and Old Jews Telling Jokes.
Regretsy basically finds weird or ugly things on Etsy, which is kind of the artsy-craftsy eBay, and makes comments about them or makes fun of them in some other way. (One of the mottos of the site is "Handmade? It looks like you made it with your feet!") I guess it particularly tickles me because I'm artsy-craftsy too, and somehow find bad or tasteless crafts really funny.
Maybe that's the same reason I like Old Jews Telling Jokes -- I'm also one of them. But it's more than that -- the site and its daily videos are beautifully designed and produced, down to the theme music (I'd like it even if it weren't produced by my old friend Henry Sapoznik), a bouncy Dave Tarras klezmer ditty. They also get a really interesting and cool assortment of people to tell the jokes, mostly retired (anything from a dentist to a former president of MGM), the occasional well-known face (the actress Suzanne Shepherd). They are all very, very funny. And even the jokes I haven't heard before are clearly classics. Also, if you like to tell jokes, you may have a favorite joke that you've told many, many times over the years. And you kind of experiment and hone it and get your timing down. That's what this site is like -- people who have made their favorite jokes perfect after telling them for 40, 50 years.
I like to tell jokes myself, and have actually retold a few that I heard on OJTJ. I always tinker with it, same as I do with recipes and jewelry instructions. But many of the ones I've been telling for a lot of years are Jewish jokes, some of which were told to me by my mother. (She could tell a mean joke, usually not dirty, but often involving cursing.) There's one I love that has slightly outdated references to Golda Meir, Abba Eban, and Moshe Dayan -- and, come to think of it, a second one that also references Moshe Dayan. Oy vey. I can only tell it to other old Jews. My favorite non-Jewish jokes tend to be animal jokes, which never age. Here's one that doesn't suffer from being read rather than heard: What do you do if an elephant has three balls on him? Walk him, and pitch to the giraffe. (This is actually both an animal joke and a baseball joke, which has to be extra points.)
Well, my entire family is/was frustrated show-biz types of various stripes. Actors, directors, book-and-lyricists, opera singer -- none of us every pursued it hard enough or if we did, never succeeded. So we tell a lot of jokes and stories.
Which reminds me -- there's a comedian named Louis C.K. whom I think is absolutely brilliant. I recently saw a stand-up show that he did a couple of years ago, and in fact watched it twice in two days. His timing, and his movements are so spot-on, so practiced and so skillful -- and yet so subtle that you feel like you're just listening to a guy talking smack. I have to say, his act is extremely vulgar (which is a plus for me, maybe not for everyone), but he is so charming that you kind of don't mind. At least I don't. He's the first stand-up I've seen in many years who's made that kind of impression on me.
OK, one more pop-culture sorta thing, though it's also a personal thing. Last week, we were watching The Cleveland Show (and just shut up if you don't think a woman over fifty should be watching cartoons, just leave me alone), and there was this character who was on for a very short time, with kind big hair, and when he spoke, I said to Barry, "That was David." He said, "What?" I said, "That was Lynchie, that was his voice." Then I forgot about it, but we just watched Sunday's episode tonight, and there he was again. I watched the credit, and sure enough, it was he. Him. I mean, how cool was that, David Lynch on The Cleveland Show? Much cooler than being on The Simpsons (which everyone's done) or even Family Guy. Go David!
I cooked dinner tonight for the first time since I hurt my foot some weeks ago. I think we were both happy to eat home-cooked food again. I made broiled wild salmon with teriyaki and ginger; sauteed zucchini, baby pattypan squash, and spinach with a lot of garlic and basil; and a mesclun salad with avocado (I've been using a Bragg's ginger salad dressing that is just fine with everything). Teriyaki salmon is always a winner around here, and even though Barry shies away from certain healthy things (whole grains, whole grain bread, broccoli and cauliflower), he likes salads, most greens, and even tofu. He eats fish that is boneless and not too fishy (salmon, sole/flounder, and red snapper filets), and also squid and shrimp. (Our local fish store is kosher, so no squid or shrimp there, but sometimes one of us goes down to a Chinese supermarket that has great fish and grabs some shrimp there).
It's just been nice getting the kitchen up and running again. I cooked myself breakfast this morning (Barry went out early to his job-counseling place), and enjoyed that a lot. Going through a few weeks of take-out was of course expensive, and sometimes healthier than others. We ordered quite a few times from a very nice Kosher/vegetarian place nearby. They serve fish, but the emphasis is on vegetable dishes. They do a killer Southeast Asian Stir Fry with brown rice, that kind of thing. And a great grilled tuna wrap. (I've heard that certain kinds of tuna are not sustainable, but I'm not really up on the should- and shouldn't-eat fish, for which I feel guilty. I don't eat that much fish, but that's not a good excuse.)
Friday, May 21, 2010
the good used bookstore
I went to the old neighborhood (Midwood/Kings Highway) to see the podiatrist, who took the stitches out of my heel, and pronounced me pretty much OK, I need to wash the cut with soap and water and use Neosporin and a bandaid, and see him again in two weeks. I can walk on it, but with some care.
Afterward, Barry and I got a bite to eat in a diner on Coney Island Avenue, and I realized I was just a half block from one of my favorite used book stores ever. Right now, I don't know of one that could beat it except The Strand. But this one, which is simply called Here's A Bookstore, is probably the closest bookstore to where I live (excluding Judaica stores), and has a pretty wide and deep variety for a smallish store. They have a lot of Judaica themselves, as well as other occult and new age book; a nice section of books about New York; classic and contemporary novels; mysteries, horror, romance, sci-fi and true crime; art, crafts, science, movies; plays and poetry; business and history; pets. What's more, you can find an awful lot of first editions there, though almost always without dustcovers (or possibly tattered dustcovers for books from the 60s on), and sometimes in rough shape. On my last trip there, I bought a first edition of a book called The House That Shadows Built by Will Irwin, a history of the movies written in 1928! No dust cover, and the top of the spine a little chewed, but otherwise in lovely shape for $7.50. I've also bought a couple of good books about Coney Island there, and a few about the space program (I'm a bit of a nut about the Mercury-Gemini-Apollo era of space flight).
This is what I got today:
Bag of Bones by Stephen King, paperback. I thought I hadn't read this but now I think maybe I did.
Oscar and Lucinda by Peter Carey. because I enjoyed the movie. Trade paperback.
And Never Let Her Go by Ann Rule, hardcover. I have a terrible sweet tooth for true crime, and Ann Rule is hands-down the best.
I Me Mine by George Harrison, hardcover. I've never read it.
A Wolf at the Table by Augustin Burroughs, hardcover. I haven't read this, but it's another memoir by a great memoirist.
Sapphira and the Slave Girl by Willa Cather, hardcover, first edition (1940, no dust cover, mid-spine a little chewed).
The first edition cost me $5.00. The whole lot ran me a bit under $50.
If you're new or newish to this blog, I lost about 95% of my books in The Great Storage Disaster. When we moved in to this too-small apartment, we were forced to stash some 60 cartons or so in storage, which we could really not afford, and we eventually lost. (The storage was something like $130 a month; if we had it, we could have rented a bigger apartment.) I lost most of my books (including most of my cookbooks), all of my journals (about 40 years' worth) and my writing samples and poetry and magazines in which I published, my baseball card collection, my postcard collection, my mother's wedding dress, and of my vinyl and a lot of my CDs and most of my cassettes (the bulk of my bootlegs were on cassette, mostly Elvis Costello).
I've been trying to embrace the paring-down aspect of it, but the truth is that I liked keeping books I had read and often dipped into something over and over. The books I have now are really random because they're mostly freebies from the "take" shelves at Penguin that I accumulated over my time there (I was on staff there for two years, but the year before that I temped there for about nine months). I haven't read most of them, and am not sure if I will. I was always a subway reader, so I had two hours of good reading time five days a week, and since I read fast, I could plow through lots and lots of books. I don't really have a good reading spot here at home, though I always take a book to a doctor's appointment or on a subway or when I go sit on the Boardwalk (I will probably start doing that again very soon). I've actually been reading again this week, a really good book of blues-oriented short stories that I'm reviewing for Blues Revue. Makes we want to build more reading time into the day.
Because of the doctor's appointment and the bookstore, and then shopping up fruit and vegetables on the way home (our amazing produce store closes from Memorial Day to Labor Day, and follows the religious Jews to their summer enclave in Deal, NJ), I didn't really do much other work today (though I did read one of the blues short stories while waiting for the podiatrist). I did make some new Facebook friends from the "Dan Lynch Alumni" list. (Dan Lynch was a ratty old blues bar with some of the best music in the city, from the early 80s until the middle 90s. The Holmes Brothers used to play a lot of Saturday nights there.) And in jewelry world, I gave three pair of earrings and a business card to one of the nurses there, because we determined on my last visit that we both adore Swarovski. That was a freebie, but the freebies are also in part about networking.
What I feel like doing now is playing with my beads for a while. I got some nice vintage beads yesterday that I won on eBay, some twisty opalescent green ones; some "blueberries and cream" ones, also twisty; and some eyepopping channel-set violet Swarovskis with a loop on each side, for earring or bracelet components. One of my jewelry weak spots is wire-wrapping briolettes. Some months back, I won an auction of 100 lots of Swarovski from an eBay seller I was familiar with, each lot being one large bead or maybe half a dozen smaller ones, a mix of new and vintage, and there are quite a few beautiful briolettes in there, so I'm going to knuckle down and work on making some nice earrings with them. (I also have half a dozen beautiful briolettes in imperial topaz -- the good, real stuff -- that I've been sitting on for half a dozen years until I figured out how to use them, or got good enough.
Afterward, Barry and I got a bite to eat in a diner on Coney Island Avenue, and I realized I was just a half block from one of my favorite used book stores ever. Right now, I don't know of one that could beat it except The Strand. But this one, which is simply called Here's A Bookstore, is probably the closest bookstore to where I live (excluding Judaica stores), and has a pretty wide and deep variety for a smallish store. They have a lot of Judaica themselves, as well as other occult and new age book; a nice section of books about New York; classic and contemporary novels; mysteries, horror, romance, sci-fi and true crime; art, crafts, science, movies; plays and poetry; business and history; pets. What's more, you can find an awful lot of first editions there, though almost always without dustcovers (or possibly tattered dustcovers for books from the 60s on), and sometimes in rough shape. On my last trip there, I bought a first edition of a book called The House That Shadows Built by Will Irwin, a history of the movies written in 1928! No dust cover, and the top of the spine a little chewed, but otherwise in lovely shape for $7.50. I've also bought a couple of good books about Coney Island there, and a few about the space program (I'm a bit of a nut about the Mercury-Gemini-Apollo era of space flight).
This is what I got today:
Bag of Bones by Stephen King, paperback. I thought I hadn't read this but now I think maybe I did.
Oscar and Lucinda by Peter Carey. because I enjoyed the movie. Trade paperback.
And Never Let Her Go by Ann Rule, hardcover. I have a terrible sweet tooth for true crime, and Ann Rule is hands-down the best.
I Me Mine by George Harrison, hardcover. I've never read it.
A Wolf at the Table by Augustin Burroughs, hardcover. I haven't read this, but it's another memoir by a great memoirist.
Sapphira and the Slave Girl by Willa Cather, hardcover, first edition (1940, no dust cover, mid-spine a little chewed).
The first edition cost me $5.00. The whole lot ran me a bit under $50.
If you're new or newish to this blog, I lost about 95% of my books in The Great Storage Disaster. When we moved in to this too-small apartment, we were forced to stash some 60 cartons or so in storage, which we could really not afford, and we eventually lost. (The storage was something like $130 a month; if we had it, we could have rented a bigger apartment.) I lost most of my books (including most of my cookbooks), all of my journals (about 40 years' worth) and my writing samples and poetry and magazines in which I published, my baseball card collection, my postcard collection, my mother's wedding dress, and of my vinyl and a lot of my CDs and most of my cassettes (the bulk of my bootlegs were on cassette, mostly Elvis Costello).
I've been trying to embrace the paring-down aspect of it, but the truth is that I liked keeping books I had read and often dipped into something over and over. The books I have now are really random because they're mostly freebies from the "take" shelves at Penguin that I accumulated over my time there (I was on staff there for two years, but the year before that I temped there for about nine months). I haven't read most of them, and am not sure if I will. I was always a subway reader, so I had two hours of good reading time five days a week, and since I read fast, I could plow through lots and lots of books. I don't really have a good reading spot here at home, though I always take a book to a doctor's appointment or on a subway or when I go sit on the Boardwalk (I will probably start doing that again very soon). I've actually been reading again this week, a really good book of blues-oriented short stories that I'm reviewing for Blues Revue. Makes we want to build more reading time into the day.
Because of the doctor's appointment and the bookstore, and then shopping up fruit and vegetables on the way home (our amazing produce store closes from Memorial Day to Labor Day, and follows the religious Jews to their summer enclave in Deal, NJ), I didn't really do much other work today (though I did read one of the blues short stories while waiting for the podiatrist). I did make some new Facebook friends from the "Dan Lynch Alumni" list. (Dan Lynch was a ratty old blues bar with some of the best music in the city, from the early 80s until the middle 90s. The Holmes Brothers used to play a lot of Saturday nights there.) And in jewelry world, I gave three pair of earrings and a business card to one of the nurses there, because we determined on my last visit that we both adore Swarovski. That was a freebie, but the freebies are also in part about networking.
What I feel like doing now is playing with my beads for a while. I got some nice vintage beads yesterday that I won on eBay, some twisty opalescent green ones; some "blueberries and cream" ones, also twisty; and some eyepopping channel-set violet Swarovskis with a loop on each side, for earring or bracelet components. One of my jewelry weak spots is wire-wrapping briolettes. Some months back, I won an auction of 100 lots of Swarovski from an eBay seller I was familiar with, each lot being one large bead or maybe half a dozen smaller ones, a mix of new and vintage, and there are quite a few beautiful briolettes in there, so I'm going to knuckle down and work on making some nice earrings with them. (I also have half a dozen beautiful briolettes in imperial topaz -- the good, real stuff -- that I've been sitting on for half a dozen years until I figured out how to use them, or got good enough.
crazy and crazier
The Examiner column has sort of eaten my brain all week. I've put up two posts, and have been networking incessantly, mostly on Facebook, all of the time I haven't been researching or writing the posts. Plus I'm reading a book of blues-oriented short stories that I'm reviewing for Blues Revue. I wish there had been something like Examiner in the mid-90s, when I first wrote for Blues Revue. There was a huge local blues scene, some half a dozen bars that had only blues bands, every night of the week, and low or no covers. These places mostly presented local bands, though some, like Manny's Car Wash, had a mix of local and national. There were other places like The Bottom Line and Tramps that had some national blues acts for a slightly higher price, but still nothing insane. Those clubs also hosted high-end folk and acoustic acts (Bottom Line) and funk and New Orleans (Tramps). I wrote for Blues Revue, but that wasn't really an outlet for deep local New York coverage, which was really my strong suit. About 85% of what I wrote for them was either CD reviews or reviews of live shows (or profiles) of national musicians who came through New York. I got in a few local notes and profiles of local musicians. But I think Examiner is going to be a lot of fun.
Monday, May 17, 2010
strangely enough
Although it's the last thing I expected to find myself doing today, I finished a necklace and made two new bracelets. I don't seem to be able to ever sell any of this stuff, but that doesn't mean I don't enjoy making it. It means that it doesn't pay for itself and so is something of a luxurious hobby. But luckily, I have tons and tons of beads, so all I really need to keep replenishing are supplies like headpins and wire.
So these two bracelets were made by a technique called "crossweave," which I found in a beading magazine and then perverted to my satisfaction. (I do the same thing to recipes, for the most part.) These scans are pretty terrible, but in the one on the left, the horizontal oval stones are African opal, which is actually a translucent-to-opaque yellow. The small side stones are four small carnelian saucers with a wood agate heishi in the middle (carnelian is a transparent-to-translucent orange and the wood agate is a translucent white-to-tan-to-yellow. It's delicate but the stones are earthy looking. The other one, which is opaque-to-translucent rose, pink, white and green, is something called "candy jade," which is dyed, but so pretty that it's hard to care. The material is clearly jadeite jade, the better of the two jades. The inferior, nephrite, has the advantage of consistently exhibiting the desirable spinach-green color that is rarer in jadeite, which has a huge color range including pinks and violets and a light celadon green. The jade one is simply two sizes of the same stone, which I was lucky to have. It was tricky to find good combinations of stones where I had enough of both (in particular the side stones), and where the main stones were drilled large enough to take two strands of beading wire, since the two strands of wire cross through these stones. For the two I finished, there were two I had to take apart because the proportions weren't right.
Let's hope the Examiner thing ends up being enjoyable *and* profitable, because I haven't yet figured out the jewelry selling thing, and it's a fucking expensive hobby for an unemployed person with no benefits.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
highly disappointing
Going to the crafts fair today cost us $50 for the table and about $40 for the car service in. I sold nothing. I blame part of this on the people selling art right across from my, who blocked my table and poached my customers at every opportunity.
Additional, none of my friends, or Facebook "friends," and none of Barry's friends, or Facebook "friends," either showed up or sent friends of theirs. No one, not one familiar face. A couple of people had let me know in advance that they couldn't be there, and I encouraged them to send any friends who might be interested. But I guess most people just couldn't be bothered. We had to take the subway home because I couldn't see losing any more money, and the subway was of course all screwed up, so instead of taking two trains, we ended up taking four trains and a shuttle bus. What should have been an hour trip took two. And I was probably on my feet way too much. I showered this morning with a plastic bag on my food, per the doctor, but I probably stood a little too hard on it and blood leaked out of the bandaging. I should have just stayed home, but I was so convinced that an "Art and Artisans: fair in Chelsea was exactly the kind of place where I'd do well. WRONG. Apparently, I can fail in almost any situation. No one want to buy my work. All the fuss and bother was for nothing.
I think my career as a professional jeweler ends here.
Additional, none of my friends, or Facebook "friends," and none of Barry's friends, or Facebook "friends," either showed up or sent friends of theirs. No one, not one familiar face. A couple of people had let me know in advance that they couldn't be there, and I encouraged them to send any friends who might be interested. But I guess most people just couldn't be bothered. We had to take the subway home because I couldn't see losing any more money, and the subway was of course all screwed up, so instead of taking two trains, we ended up taking four trains and a shuttle bus. What should have been an hour trip took two. And I was probably on my feet way too much. I showered this morning with a plastic bag on my food, per the doctor, but I probably stood a little too hard on it and blood leaked out of the bandaging. I should have just stayed home, but I was so convinced that an "Art and Artisans: fair in Chelsea was exactly the kind of place where I'd do well. WRONG. Apparently, I can fail in almost any situation. No one want to buy my work. All the fuss and bother was for nothing.
I think my career as a professional jeweler ends here.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
busy busy
Had to get some stuff lined up today in preparation for this Examiner thing. Needed a photo and bio. Bio was easy. Photo was tough because I don't like the way I look these days, and I didn't like any of my current photos. So I fixed my hair as best I could and put on makeup and had Barry take a few shots. I tinkered with one until it looked a little dim and fuzzy and forgiving.
Also rejoined Facebook. Honestly, it makes me feel kind of exposed, but I guess that's a trade-off for being able to promote various interests. And there are definitely some people I want to stay in touch with and still others I want to find.
I'd love to finish the second new necklace before Saturday, but it may not happen. The work wreaks some havoc on my back, and I'm also starting to get sore legs from a week and a half of limping and walking on the ball of my left foot. I was hoping to get out and walk tomorrow but I may not be up to it, plus it may rain. I don't know if I can get a sneaker over the bandaged foot. I just replaced my sneakers a few weeks ago and the new ones are still a bit stiff, so it's tight getting my heel in under normal circumstances. Saturday's footwear solution may be sandals and a car service.
I'm realizing that I may get better results with my jewelry if I package myself a little better. The types of new clothes I've been getting, like Mission Canyon, is known as "wearable art." As big a cliche as it is, I'm kind of turning into that "goddess years" babe with the batik tunics and the clunky jewelry. (My mother went to grad school with so many of them that my brother and I used "social worker ladies" as shorthand.) But we postmenopausal tunic ladies aren't just social workers and therapists. Some of us are jewelers and blues columnists. (BTW, here is the basic guide to old-babes-in-tunics, courtesy of one of my very favorite cartoonists, Roz Chast. I wish there was some way to enlarge that image; they print the basic text but not some of the cartoons within the panel. The girl in the upper left is saying to her be-tunicked mother, "Mom, you're starting to look like Aunt June!" Roz just nails that shit.
Anyway, I'm going to embrace my inner old-hippie and sell jewelry in big bright tunics and makeup and plenty of jewelry on me.
Also rejoined Facebook. Honestly, it makes me feel kind of exposed, but I guess that's a trade-off for being able to promote various interests. And there are definitely some people I want to stay in touch with and still others I want to find.
I'd love to finish the second new necklace before Saturday, but it may not happen. The work wreaks some havoc on my back, and I'm also starting to get sore legs from a week and a half of limping and walking on the ball of my left foot. I was hoping to get out and walk tomorrow but I may not be up to it, plus it may rain. I don't know if I can get a sneaker over the bandaged foot. I just replaced my sneakers a few weeks ago and the new ones are still a bit stiff, so it's tight getting my heel in under normal circumstances. Saturday's footwear solution may be sandals and a car service.
I'm realizing that I may get better results with my jewelry if I package myself a little better. The types of new clothes I've been getting, like Mission Canyon, is known as "wearable art." As big a cliche as it is, I'm kind of turning into that "goddess years" babe with the batik tunics and the clunky jewelry. (My mother went to grad school with so many of them that my brother and I used "social worker ladies" as shorthand.) But we postmenopausal tunic ladies aren't just social workers and therapists. Some of us are jewelers and blues columnists. (BTW, here is the basic guide to old-babes-in-tunics, courtesy of one of my very favorite cartoonists, Roz Chast. I wish there was some way to enlarge that image; they print the basic text but not some of the cartoons within the panel. The girl in the upper left is saying to her be-tunicked mother, "Mom, you're starting to look like Aunt June!" Roz just nails that shit.
Anyway, I'm going to embrace my inner old-hippie and sell jewelry in big bright tunics and makeup and plenty of jewelry on me.
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