Skip to main content


I just spent about the last two weeks hanging out at my parent’s place in Billings. It always seems hard to find things to do there. But at least this time I didn’t get called faggot from passing cars every time I decided to go for a walk. Then again I didn’t really walk much this time visiting.

I finally got to see my sister play her clarinet at some school concert. When I moved out she had just got her clarinet so I would be hearing squeaks and squawks from her bedroom and this was quite the change. The first song she played was “Hitler has only got one ball” and I muttered along with the lyrics, or at least the first two lines that I could remember since when I hear it in pop culture it usually doesn’t make it past the first two lines. I asked Taryn when she was done if her band teacher also taught her the lyrics to that song and she just looked at me bewildered.

Since my roommate moved back home for the summer (and potentially moving out all together meaning university housing may give me a new roommate this fall..) I went thrifting while in Billings for basics like new plates, silverware, and pretty things. After what had probably been the end of when I first worked at VV I added a huge amount of silverware to my collection. That is now out in the kitchen and not hiding in my room since I don’t have to go through explaining how to clean silver and that its not alright to leave food on them. Plus I found that the vile toothpaste my parents sent me two christmases ago is perfect for shining silver and now I’m not being wasteful. Hopefully this culminates into a dinner party one of these nights.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Windy Coffee. [part 1]

Fulya was looking at my sketchbook the other day and remarked that she liked the random sketch that I had made of some girl that I saw walking along with a little plastic cup of coffee during the wind storm a few weeks past. As I still have some small pieces of very good watercolor paper [that I had sized to be used for some small frames I had collected but did not have anything to put in them yet], I thought that perhaps I could transfer a little sketch to a little piece of paper to play with techniques. Namely the layering of water colors. Something that I know I have been working on a lot, but practice makes perfect. I also wanted to see how using my new mechanical pencil filled with blue graphite would work in hiding my lines as I initially worked. I forgot to take a picture of the transition between not having the girl inked at all to inking her and starting the background. I was having a hell of a time trying to figure out a setting in which to put her. At first I was th
Post a Comment
Read more
French underworld tattoos at the turn of the century. The man sports a tattooed mustache intended to foil the prohibition of facial hair in the Foreign Legion. The World of Tattoo by Maarten Hesselt van Dinter. I can only dream of being anywhere near that combination of badass and crazy. Though at that point the Foreign Legion was probably still the best place for criminals to get their record cleaned so perhaps he is as well quite legitimately scary upon all of that. I find myself flipping back to this page time and time again to romanticize the French underground from around 1900. Give him an accordion, a beret, and some braces. Prostitutes who could easily kill you if you ever come up short and tattoo the names of their ‘actual’ lovers between their breasts, close to their heart. Tattoo ‘Je mother fucking t’aime’ in a tattoo cursive along my collar bones.
Post a Comment
Read more

The adventure continues.

So, I haven't written much lately.. but from the doldrums of the end of semester I then entered a time period of a flânerie across France. A last hurrah. Jessye came to visit again and the tiny room was packed up all into a few suitcases, the largest being named Bertha, and Rennes was left behind, although not before having a picnic in Thabor for the last Saturday market... We got the essentials. Madeleines (where as I reached the front of the line the vendor greeted me with a question of, '6 madelines?') with a few more of that vendor's delicious delights, like those bite size rolls with jams and caramel and chocolate.. Then of course the impossible cow cheese that acted like goat cheese and was rolled in Provencal  herbs. And of course a baguette from the amazing bakery covered in tiles. A trip to Thabor with Jessye was never complete without a stop at the aviary. And some people watching. A mohawked punk rocker walks a little girl hand in hand through the park.
Post a Comment
Read more