elephantine

another weekend bites the dust

Lighthearted work from D. Billy.

As of yesterday, I'm officially a proud and slightly poorer iPhonette, obsessively checking it, trying to see how fast and accurately I can hunt and peck, adding new apps and shifting them around and then adding more for good measure. I'm also going to try to keep my twitter updated, so if you feel the need, follow me here.

It was about a two hour wait until being ushered into the AT&T store. This particular AT&T store is attached to a mall. And not a big or popular mall: I can count the numbers of shops I actually shop in on my left hand.

But at one point, a man slowly approached the line, looked at all of us with great confusion, and asked with disbelief, "Is this... the line... to get into the mall?" It was a good thing that someone explained the situation, because I think he might have had a heart attack had we said yes.

the big and little things

Meet the Schaffas.

Done and done: Middlesex is now officially one of my favorite reads. There may be nothing better than a well-written five hundred page novel. (Besides, of course, a nine hundred pager.) Next up to bat is Amanda Davis' Wonder When You'll Miss Me. McSweeney's is home to the Amanda Davis Hirewire Fiction Award (founded in 2004, in her memory) and is something I'd apply to in a heartbeat if not for the terrifying requirement of sending "a work in progress, between 5,000 and 40,000 words." So, let's change that to: I'll apply to it in maybe five years, after a million or two heartbeats, when my roman à clef notes have liquefied into something tangible.

You know what I always think is funny? Stores that usually only sell one commodity, but then start throwing a couple of other ones in for good measure. For instance, we were in a small bookstore after dinner tonight, ninty-five percent stocked with heavily dog-eared books, and then there's one swiveling rack of DVDs in the front, featuring maybe twelve movies at the most. I basically interpret it to say, "Your kid/spouse doesn't like to read? This should do the trick – much less commitment required."

There were also three plastic snakes on sale near the childrens' books, wrapped in crinkled cellophane, tongues permanently jutted out.

hello elloh

I came across elloh's quirky, awesome renditions of television & movie characters a few months back. For some reason it just popped into my head again and needed to be posted about asap.

Right now I have one of those impossible-to-scratch itches. I keep rubbing one hand with the other and it won't go away. It's like it's inside. As if it's the bone that itches.

And I finally remembered what I was trying to think of a week ago when I was asked what kind of music I liked most: I was supposed to say, "Post-rock... basically electronic, experimental, ambient," but instead I had only blurted out "Mogwai," and then drew a blank.

Some new additions to the desired music list: Talkdemonics, Ratatat, Clogs, Lamb, Amon Tobin.

da-da-ding

This morning I watched this incredible wall-painted animation: MUTO by BLU. Make sure to listen, too – the soundtrack really enhances its amazingness.

About an hour ago I'm in the dressing room of Macy's, trying on a dress that is unflattering in all the worse ways, overhearing the only two other people in there. A girl is in the hallway with a summer dress on and her mother tells her that it's too "Ellie Mae," to which the daughter says, "Ellie who? I don't know who that is... oh, the hillbilly?" Then she changes and comes back out for her mom's next verdict.

Girl: "I like them... but they're more expensiver." (Yes, "expensiver.")
Mom: "Oh, wow, wow. Those jeans look amazing."
Girl: "They're 70 dollars."
Mom: "Is your grammy still out there? Go show her. They look so good. Really good."
Girl: "I like them... but they're 70 dollars."
Mom: "Wow, do those fit great. They look really great."

The mom was seriously having a heart attack over these pants. I wouldn't be surprised if she ended up buying every pair on the rack.

We also wander into the video game store, and the first thing I notice is a pair of legs laying very still on the floor. For a second I think that someone's passed out, but then I see that it's just a guy so invested in thumbing through the bottom shelf of games that he's laid down on the floor to get a good look.

puppy love

I really want to see Felice Varini's illusional paintings in person. 

    "So I can tell that it's a service dog, but can he open the exit window in an emergency?"
    This is what catches my attention on the bus today. It's being asked by a twenty-something, average-joe man leaning across the aisle, smiling widely at a woman seated next to her dog.
    She gives him a polite laugh and answers, "Well, I'm not so sure about that. He can open doors, though. Can't undo chains, but can open doors." I'm not sure why she's introduced chains into the equation, as the dog is wearing a fabric leash and there isn't (thank god) anyone on the bus chained up.
    Then another woman whips out her cellphone, thrusts her hand out as far away from herself as possible, and takes a picture of the pup. I hear the fake shutter sound effect of the cellphone and the woman coos. The dog gives the lady a wet-eyed glance, eyelids drooping, an oh, bother expression plastered across his face.
    "How old is he?" she asks. Eight years old, the owner tells her.
    "Eight? Wow."
    Then the first guy takes his turn again: "And what kind of dog is he?"
    "A beagle."
    "A beagle, huh! So, AS A SERVICE DOG," he's nearly shouting now over the static of traffic and the air conditioning, "WHAT EXACTLY DOES HE DO FOR YOU?" Wow. Way to be rude. Way to essentially ask the woman, "What's your disability? What's wrong with you, anyway?"

Oh, yeah – and for all you seattlites, the SIFF film lineup was announced today.

second thought

Combine two sources of great awe, and the result is Robert Hodgin's video entry for Aniboom's Radiohead music video contest. See this and this for more of his gorgeous creations made with Processing. Also check out his blog.

this is the post where I go on and on.

Running Amok, a limited edition Scottish zine found on Poketo.

I fall asleep on the bus, which is routine, but the drowsiness washes over me even more quickly than usual because my new book is not proving to be such a treat to read. It feels contrived, unimaginative. And another gripe of mine: don't slap "A Novel" on the cover if it's really just a bunch of short stories (related, but nonetheless still detached). Has anyone else read it? Does it get better after thirty pages?

So I may be starting up a new read, e.g. the one that came in the mail today, Pearl S. Buck's The Good Earth. It's one of several books I just purchased via the beloved Amazon Marketplace. The only downside of AM is that the books always seem to arrive in impossible-to-open packaging. The Good Earth came wrapped in, outside to inside: thick clear tape, then masking tape, then a paper bag, then a plastic Walmart bag, and then – wait for it – saran wrap.

When I wake up from my literary-induced snooze, I'm greeted by a nearly empty bus, which is strange because normally it's still packed shoulders-to-ankles. I hadn't missed my stop, even. We're passing by Half Price Pots and I noticed that there's bus right in front of ours that has an advertisement on its rear for that exact store. Most of the ad is occupied by an illustration of an anthropomorphic, doe-eyed flower nestled snugly in a pot (half priced, I assume) donning exaggerated lashes and a pearl necklace and full-bodied, siren red lips. Beside the plant, in big lettering, the ad demands, "Contain Yourself."

Creepy seducing plants. I hope that in my post-slumber fuzziness I imagined the whole thing.

the winners

Gorgeous handthrown stoneware bowls from Manos.

It's May 1st – and you know what that means – giveaway winners announced! Thanks mucho to the thirty-four of you who entered... I loved reading every bit of randomness. Down to business, drumroll, here are the winners: Matilda Sue, Lisa, and Anne. (Ladies, you'll be getting an email from me.)

I have a million things on my to-do list and zero good stories to tell today. Unless you want to hear about my lunch that had a whole colony's worth of sundried tomatoes piled on top of it? Or how Rufus just sat down next to me and started clawing at my tights without being provoked – and, yes, while I'm wearing them? Thought so. So happy thursday, and don't forget to watch The Office.

i want a driving dog

I can be a sucker for portfolios of staged, sweetly polished photography, but it's the genuine street shot ones that really get me. Matt Stuart.

Today I nearly trampled on four ripped-off sandwich corners on the pavement. Even though I'm not part of the club, I get the whole not liking crusts thing... but just the corners? I dunno, those right angles must be tough to swallow. What was left of the insides looked like tuna fish, but made with an overdose of mustard. I'm talking fluorescent, thick orange. Maybe it was really good, though. Really, really good.

let's do something this summer...

Redrawing an entire 1968 yearbook by Robot Johnny. (Via Boing Boing.)

Finally finished reading the Sylvia Plath journals (it's over 350 pages so I'm not that abysmally slow). I'd really recommend it to anyone who's more than casually interested in her and won't get turned off by depressive confessional writing. I asked the boyfriend to recommend my next novel, so tomorrow I'll be starting The Contortionist's Handbook (Craig Clevenger).

Just caught the last bit of Demetri Martin on tv. Does anyone else wish that he had more than that one guest spot on FOTC? Some of his jokes seemed very Mitch Hedberg-esque. Demetri's charts and findings were right on (pillow fighting pillow = crazy awesome) and reminded me of my own abandoned project that hasn't proven to be much of anything yet. I finished up two lungbears tonight (red and blue), but no shop updates until I finish my custom + consignment pieces...