Where did you go, girl? asked Thread when we talked on the phone earlier today. I was afraid you'd fallen off the face of the earth. She was home sick again--this cold season's been a hard one on her--and punchy. I was glad to talk to her, glad of the distraction.
Because she's right, I kind of have. Fallen off the face of the earth. It's a lot of things that you've heard me whine about a million times...the season, the weather, catering down-time poverty, missing MonkeyScientist a whole big lot. I haven't wanted to go out. "Out" doesn't have much to recommend it right now. And I especially like the current smell of my little Spaceship: burnt teriyaki salmon, chorizo omelette, a candle in one of those weird scents that probably isn't anything like its inspiration, a new watermelony shampoo that is allegedly designed especially for long hair. Allegedly. I go to the post office, I go to the studio for rehearsals, I go out to work. And this weekend, breakfast both mornings. But otherwise, I wrap myself in the smell and turn up the heat.
And make things.
It's what works. Tried going on a date with someone I'd been seeing at about the same time I started up with MonkeyScientist, and that spiraled swiftly into disaster. I don't drink much because it makes my dreams boringly literal. The money writing isn't turning me on right now, and the personal writing, while it helps, doesn't take me out of my pensiveness. But gluing things together? Ooo-kay!
So I thought I would show you some of what I've been doing.
This is a vegan boa, for the feather-phobic fashionista. I was wearing my first one a couple of weeks ago and I had a stranger comment on exactly that--how much she hated feathers, period. They give her the creeps. I should have offered to make her one of these. Anyway. This one is going to a woman I've never met in a craft swap, and I'll be bummed if she doesn't like it, because I broke three sewing machine needles making it, and gathered a few new white hairs on the way. But otherwise I'm pleased. It's four and a half feet long, somewhat Burning Man-safe (unlike feather boas, which shed), composed of at least 50% recycled material, and dramatic.
Unlike me right now. Definitely not dramatic. I'm whatever the opposite of dramatic is. The antimatter to dramatic's matter. If I met dramatic right now, I'd cancel it out in a shower of little grey sparks.
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