crinolines

Dear Little Darlings,

What you want, I daresay, is a big, poufy skirt!  I wore a black net petticoat the other day to the museum lecture of a photographer.  It was a boughten one, from Sock Dreams.  At the lecture, I wore it with boots, a knit top, a windowpane plaid scarf, and a striped wool skirt.  Last January, in London, I wore it over tights, without a skirt, because in London a girl can dress that way, and that's why I love London.  California loves a bare midriff, but they still don't know what to make of under wear as outer wear; it's sad and conformist really, but there isn't much of a dialog about the politics of exposure in women's wear right now.

Here is a little history of the crinoline as the successor to the petticoat.  The terms are used a bit indiscriminately nowadays.  Because the crinoline was named for the stiff horsehair fabric of the same name, I call my stiffer underskirts crinolines and the softer ones petticoats.

I made a nice petticoat of silk and vintage lace from this fine pattern for a crinoline, from Gertie's Blog for Better Sewing.  Voluminous, 100 yard, square dance petticoats can be found on Ebay, or Petticoat Junction, and another place to buy underskirts of varying pouf, is Unique Vintage.

About Lidia.

Dear Reader,

It's well after the gift-giving holidays* and I hope you enjoyed the book I gave you, The Chronology of Water, by Lidia Yuknavitch.  She's a badass of the sort I want around, because she doesn't make many excuses.  It's the Year of the Sudden Surge of Confidence and I don't want to offer any more explanation or defense for my ideas, choices, and thoughts.  I don't really even know what made me such a second guesser in life, but I do know that I have wasted tons of the sands of time on analyzing the why and how of my own petty little preferences.  Pfft.  What a silly waste.






* Our fir tree is still up and I might make an excuse or an explanation here, but because I want to walk the walk, I won't.

Gritting

Dear Beloved Listener,

I have been gritting my teeth over how many tasks there are on my list.  Here, now, today, I am on number 5, and getting a quick message off to you is number six.  Of course, these items are not being handled in the order of their importance.  If they were, this would be number 2.  In any event, here are some more numbers for you; versions of today's song of the day.



 

 

 

 

 

Number One.

Number Two.

Number Three.

Number Four.

Number Five, a petite reprise of Two.

 

The composer, eden ahbez, is an interesting fellow, if you care to know a little more about this song.

Car Hop

Dear Skaters,

Man, what can we do about this?  There is no way they are going to hire me at Sonic, and I think I could have loved a life of slinging shakes on skates.  This kind of thing, when you find a job you should have had years ago, really hits me hard.  I need at least one more lifetime to do and try all this stuff I want to do.  There just isn't enough time, and I resent deeply the responsibility of having to work at spending what time there is so very carefully.

I wanted to get a law degree, for one thing, just so I could show it to the kind of ultra maroons that think being an artist is for people who aren't 'smart,' and I wanted to have a bakery, and to go to pastry chef school, and to learn to speak Italian, and to play piano more, and own a bookshop, and have a little motel in Lee Vining.  Yes, I know, there is still time for some of this, but I don't see how I can cram all that in while I open and operate a roller rink, which is the ne plus ultra, of course.

I wanted to band birds in Borneo, and document cave paintings in France.  I wanted to design wall paper and fabrics, to learn to make leather boots, and to write articles for magazines.  I wanted to spin records at a radio station, and help brides pick out a dress.  I wanted to run a little sandwich shop across the street from the nursing home, and serve up egg salad on wheat toast to little old ladies.  I wanted to have a cow to milk, and to learn to make wine.  I wanted to have a gallery, with beautiful white paintings in it.










PS
Sonic has a useful series of skate training videos, on how to skate with a tray, and through a sticky soda spill.  They also have one for going up and down curbs.  If you don't want to skate at Sonic, you might be interested in eating there, and this link recommends the onion rings and coconut limeade.

On.

Dear Atmosphere,

Here is a thing, a piece, that I have been looking for since 2008.  I lost it, see, on a little slip of paper.  Back then I tuned into a terrific classical music show called The Aeolian Impromptu.  I adored this program; I miss it still.   I used to build my week around its airtime.  It was a fascinating and compelling show, with music one could paint to.  I would tape it, and play the tapes over and over. 

Still, time moves on, doesn't it?  I thought, ten years ago, that the DJ had said this John Adams piece was called The Great Divide.  Just a few weeks ago, looking again, I finally found it, and my error:  the missing word "on."

I wonder if maybe you too have been looking for this music?  It's so great to find it again after so much time has passed.  It's filled with the kinds of things I love in music:  crashing waves of chords, layers of atmospheric and spacious sounds, wordless and babbling angelic choirs, and crescendos of overlapping rhythms that head off into the sunset on a long journey.

Another Molly Song

Dear Mollies,

This is one to watch.  It gives me all kinds of ideas about stop-motion film-making and feminism.  It's a treat.  Enjoy!

découpé

Dear Fans,

It's David Bowie's birthday today; I have been celebrating it since I was 14.  Have a slice of cake, a glass of champagne, and this song, Blackout.  The image above is the "cut up" lyric for the song; for more Bowie-ana, look here.









PS 
A demonstration:


Dear David Bowie,

Happy Birthday Blackout.  Since today, I have been fourteen.  Celebrating the lyrics for the song, cut up a slice of cake and look here: Above, fans demonstrate découpé in this glass image of Bowie-ana and champagne.