shopping

When I'm feeling down and out, I shop.

Maybe it's the time spent to myself, or focusing my attention away from the cause of the problem, but it always manages to lift my spirits. I don't have to buy anything. Just looking around helps.

I bring this up only because I realized, as I was schlepping through Marshall Field's, that there are three things that I am always on the lookout for. Whether consciously or not, I'm continually searching for a) the perfect spiral notebook, b) the perfect black coat, and c) the perfect bag.

Notebooks are easy. I find MANY perfect notebooks. And unless they hit the $10 maximum, I buy them. My ideal notebook is spiral, of course, with heavy, chalky paper and college-ruled lines. Easy.

Finding the perfect coat is much more difficult but easier to control due to self-enforced price restrictions. The material must be thin enough for 180 degree arm rotation, thick enough to last through a Minnesotan December, and designed to make me appear at least four inches taller and ten pounds lighter than I actually am. It's difficult and easy for the very same reason; there's nonesuch coat that exists.

And the bag? With many additional requisites demanding to be met, it's an insatiable quest for the perfect accessory that upholds both design and function standards. The bag must be small enough to avoid cumbersome handling in tight quarters (like the bus) yet large enough to accommodate oversized folders from work. The design must be subtle enough to use as my every-day bag, yet unique enough for others to covet. The material has to be soft so I can squash it into tight, odd-shaped quarters, yet durable enough to protect my belongings. And it must withstand cat hair.

It's difficult because, quite obviously, the requisites are numerous. It's difficult because there is no price limitation I can put on such an essential item. It's difficult because I know, somewhere out there, this bag exists and I just haven't found it yet. But I'll know it when I see it. And I will be sated.

Then I'll need to find the perfect black shoes to match.

Go Font Yourself!

Now you can have your very own font based on your actual handwriting. Hm, I wonder how hard it would be to buy a program and learn how to do it yourself?... How fontastic that would be.

Gilda, are you decent?
I watched Gilda this past weekend. Rita Hayworth is, wow, mesmorizing as the vindictive vixen. So beautiful, and at times so evil and pathetic that I found myself wanting to throw a cat at the tv and scream, "Take a valium!" Great acting, smart dialogue, decent plot. Two interesting things about Rita: the 3 parts tequila, 2 parts lime juice, and 1 part cointreau cocktail, known as the margarita, was allegedly named after Margarita Carmen Cansino, the pre-Hollywood Rita. And her face was glued onto an A-bomb which was dropped on the Bikini Atoll in 1946.

shoots & latter

"So...Has Ted finally won Dig Dug?" asked Sarah.
"Umm... I don't think so, I'm not so sure he even knows how to play" said Bill.

beer + karoake = dinner party story

I wrote about my first public karoake experience for a class I'm taking. With some time and group therapy, the wounds have finally healed.

shoots & latter

My seventh-grade Social Studies teacher, whose name was forgettable but her Barbie-yellow hair and bustline was not, conducted class by having us read a chapter quietly from our desks and answer the ten bolded questions found at the end. She'd wait until the next class to give the answers, then for the remaining 45 minutes, we'd quietly read the next chapter. She'd shake things up occasionally by going down the row and having us read aloud a paragraph each. The class was as stimulating as studying insects' fecal habits.

To pass the quiet-reading time, my friend Stephanie and I wrote elaborate stories to each other. It started with a note I wrote, teasing her about the lust of her life, Bud Decksterr. [We pretended that his middle name was Victor, thus giving him the titillating initials, B.V.D.] In my note, B.V.D. decided to break up with the vile wench Melissa, only to throw himself at Stephanie and beg her forgiveness for his deplorable weakness for loose girls with ratty hair and big asses.

She wrote back that yes, she would forgive him if only his best friend M.A.P. (Marvin "Aaron" Pohler) would finally admit that it was me he had been pining for and to dump Julie and her thick ankles. In our fifth-period-confined reality, we were hot, desirable babes with acid tongues and witty comebacks.

The single-sheet notes were soon replaced with a spiral notebook. Our stories grew so long and involved, we'd have to take them home to finish our entries. Subsequent volumes followed. We'd pass back these notebooks to read during class. The entries would trigger long giggling fits that neither one of us controlled very well. Barbie, who always seemed a little taken aback upon noticing thirty kids sitting in her classroom, never gave us much guff.

Years later, through some high school reunion website, I had gotten an email from Stephanie asking how I was doing and if I remembered those spiral notebooks. Of course I did. I even remembered our fat, cursive writing, and how she used little circles to dot her 'i's.

This is really just a long-winded, roundabout way of introducing Shoots & Latter, in honor of Stephanie's and my spiral-notebooked stories. There are earlier, more happening versions of this kind of collaboration out there, but I hope this one has staying power.

deos tihs raelly wrok?

"Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at an Elingsh uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer are in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a toatl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae we do not raed ervey lteter by it slef but the wrod as a wlohe."

bedtime stories

My boyfriend's reply when asked if he was going to bed soon:

"Yeah, I'm going to finish up with this hooker, shoot her, take her money, and park my car. Then I'll be ready."

Whew. Left me with enough time to break some guy's kneecaps, yank out his molars, grab his wallet, and get an oil change.

get your word fix

If time is of the essence, check out one word. If you're hurtin' for a scrabble fix, try wordblog. If acronymns get you hot, try blogstop. If none of those do it for you, try a book.

meet your neighbors

She was taking photographs of buildings in downtown Minneapolis. Very approachable. She looked to be in her early twenties. She agreed to take the survey with no hesitation.

escape (the song)

My apologies for the technical difficulties yesterday. I talked to the hosting folks this morning. They weren't sure how it happened, but somehow the site? link? something-or-other got deleted. Hm. I'm not sure if he really didn't know, or if he just didn't want to explain it to me. I did say, very technically speaking, that my site was acting "kinda funny."

So it's back up, yay.

There's a song that's been looping in my head for weeks now. Weeks, no exaggeration. It's The Pina Colada Song. I thought Jimmy Buffet wrote it, but apparently it was first penned by Rupert Holmes, whose past hits include such sentimental tunes as "I Don't Want To Hold Your Hand" and "Rifles And Rum."

The only lines I knew were "Do you like piiina colaaadas? Let me shooow you the waaay." I was almost 90% sure that there were more words before, between, and after. So I looked up the rest of the lyrics.

I'm sorry. Now it's probably in your head.

a whole lotta love

I love fine greeting cards, everything about them. I love their heavy weight and thready texture, how the paper quickly nips in the ink of a nice felt-tip. I love grazing through card collections of cool and crafty, balmy-scented shops. I love drooling over delicate letterpress creations, running my fingerprints over their subtle indentations. I love getting them, the hand-addressed envelope, especially when no particular occasion calls for it. I love their simplicity, and how unerringly savvy their messages can be.

But the niftiest thing about these cards? It's how there's a perfect one for absolutely every occasion. Why, just the other day I just saw the sweetest sympathy card for the death of a friend's pet rock...

local photog

As part of a library project, Minnesotan photographer Wing Young Huie agreed to share his top seven favorite books. Says Wing, "Not all are photo books, but certainly all have been influential in my development as an artist." Oh, I can't wait to dig into some of them.

The Meadowlands by Robert Sullivan
A Whale Hunt by Robert Sullivan
American Musicians by Lee Friedlander
Winogrand 1964 by Garry Winogrand
Mirrors and Windows by John Szarkowski
Ways of Seeing by John Berger
Martin Parr by Martin Parr (check out the neat, interactive Love Cubes!)

photos

Glasgow was brilliant, and Toronto was lovely.

pooch talk

"Ruff?" = "Must you doll me up in these insufferable pooch sweaters?" [Get the full scoop at Bowlingual]

adopt-an-artist

Dear Ms. Parker and Mr. Broderick:

I am writing to you today with an offer that I dearly hope you will consider. It is of an urgent matter. It's about the future of the Arts.

The Arts are vital for a rich and fulfilling life. But as accomplished actors of a tremendously popular HBO show and Broadway hit, I'm sure you already realize this. The difficult question is, "How do I ensure the Arts continues?"

The answer is the Adopt-An-Artist program. Here at AAA, we have carefully constructed a nurturing environment which exists to transplant struggling artists to New York City where they are afforded a chance to thrive and create. This is possible only through generous sponsors such as yourselves who understand and are compelled to keep the Arts alive.

You can make this happen with a mere $50,000 a year. With pocket-change of $136.98 a day (that's less than a half-hour massage at Aveda!), you can sleep soundly knowing that an artist is alive and well, thriving in the fierce jungle that is New York City and creating art in your namesake.

Your Adopted Artist will write you monthly, detailing all the wonderful designer drugs East Village bars creative experiences your Artist is able to partake in due to your generous support. We include pictures of your Artist for you to witness their tremendous growth made possible by sponsors like you.

We hope you consider this urgent matter. We're happy to answer any questions you may have on this program.

Sincerely,

Adopt-An-Artist program