Sunday, September 9, 2012

Y'all, I'm so upset


This is the last time I will trust that an online craft tutorial (granted, I'm not even sure this was a tutorial after all; just a "LookatwhatIdid" video) has been tested, vetted, and perfected for others to perform with near-perfect results. 

I even did a preliminary test on another piece of wood and, true, I had similar not-so-great results, I tried it out anyway on my real canvas. I wanted to make something nice for one of my cousins, and now I'm just livid with a stranger over the Internet and I shouldn't be.

Whole chunks of the ink came off with the paper. CHUNKS. Like I can't even -- just look at it. 
I know this will work out in the end, but all I want to do is listen to Nitzer Ebb and do push-ups because I really am "super-fly TNT" right now. 

If I wanted shitty outlines so I could use a tiny paintbrush to fill them in, I wouldn't have chosen the most convoluted way to do it. 

I just want to eat everything. I had dim sum earlier in the day, but I'm ready to tear up some serious food, guys. 
My fury doesn't know words anymore.

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

An exercise in lazy storytelling (ALL BROKEN)

I'm hoping you all enjoyed your gif fix, because since I pubbed this the first time, my laziness has superseded the need to fix all these broken gifs. IDGAF.

So, if you haven't seen all 70+ pages of Whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com like I have, you'd best get on it. They're the best. Note: I didn't make ANY of these. I don't know how yet. These all came from Whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com.

This is the story of what happened between me and the bank this past month.

One night I went to go deposit a bunch o' rent money at an ATM with Chris and we were like:

And then the ATM was like, "Transaction could not be completed" with the money still inside the machine. And then I was like:

The next day, I called and filed a claim. They gave me a credit. Then 3 weeks later, they took the credit back because they said they investigated and couldn't find the money. It made me feel like they were saying:

I tried to talk to people in a firm tone, but you know me, I try to be mean, but then I'm like:

So Chris went with me and talked to the banker this time. Chris was like:

Then the bank said they'd re-investigate, and we were like:

But it had been a week and I still hadn't heard anything, so by now I'm like:

And then they FOUND THE MONEY AND GAVE IT BACK. Now we're like:

Thank you again to Whatshouldwecallme.tumblr.com, for making this post possible. Good night. 

Monday, August 20, 2012

I'm scared I'mna fall and hurt myself

Navigating the streets of New York -- whether it is raining, snowing, or summering -- is treacherous. And I'm not talking about the brazen cab drivers or the City Sights double-deckers. Or the bike couriers. Or the people handing out flyers.

I'm referring to the concrete under your feet, the stairs, the intersection ahead of you.



One time a friend of mine and I were walking across the street in Chinatown and she totally fell down. And I froze. I didn't immediately drop down to help her up. I was shocked and freaked out. I don't even remember if I actually helped her up. I'm a horrible friend. And some tears of shock fell from her eyes and then we whipped our hair back and forth and got over it.

But then this other time, another friend of mine fell down in the street while trying to cross a street somewhere else, and people came running. I wasn't there to witness it and come running (or just stand there all dumbfounded again); I just heard about it. When people come running, that's when you know it's bad. Eventually, she made it home, but her ankle was swollen, and she was trapped, TRAPPED in her apartment. The swelling subsided and she could regain her mobility the next day, but could you IMAGINE? What if she'd broken something? I CAN'T. DON'T.

I once saw an old man leaning against a building in midtown east, holding his bloody nose, because he took a tumble trying to walk 8th avenue like a normal person. Shit was fucked up.

Guys. Be careful. Feet are sensitive.


Monday, July 23, 2012

Fruit flies can go to hell

I think I may have found something I hate more than sugar ants: FRUIT FLIES.

When I was in middle school, I had the chance to build a contained compost heap, so to speak. I built it out of 2-liter soda bottles filled with differing "floors" rotting matter. I was sure I'd messed up, because although the food was decomposing beautifully (wehhh), there seemed to be no other developments ... until someone tapped the bottle and a TSUNAMI WALL OF FRUIT FLIES filled every empty space in the plastic bottles. I was both triumphant and horrified.

It was like
And now, I am fine with fruit flies when they were contained. I am fine with fruit flies when they seem to find my cubicle at work fairly entertaining, before realizing there is nothing hospitable about my workspace. I keep my shit rot-free, thankyouverymuch.

I was fine with fruit flies, until they BROKE INTO MY HOUSE ... apartment ... whatever. And now when I'm checking my email, making a sandwich, going to the bathroom. To make it clear, I live in a studio apartment, so space is fairly limited. I'm not dealing with a swarm or a cloud or anything. Just 3 at most, I know it. But I can't catch and kill them for the life of me.


I've resorted to making a tape glove, so that maybe if I do make contact with a godforsaken fruit fly, IT WILL BE TRAPPED.

 
I saw one on the train this weekend and nearly lost my mind. Summer go 'way.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Everyone's a monster freak bitch

That's what runs through my head as I look around from my Stephen King novel while riding the train. I remember one morning walking to work and being repulsed more than usual by the people talking to themselves in the streets or also just walking to work, but just much too slowly. IZ HOT. WALK FASTER.

The summer before I left for college, I read "It." This year, after I returned from what I like to call "my summer vacay," I finished "Dead Zone," and I'm now about halfway through "'Salem's Lot." Before all this started, I'd be watching a ton of X-Files episodes on Netflix. Needless to say that doors opening by themselves and creaking while doing so, or when someone looks at me too long on the train, has taken on new and creepy-ass meaning. Hissing at people is still socially unacceptable, right? We'll see.

Also, speaking of X-Files, while I was watching all 3 seasons in rapid succession, I got really tired of seeing Scully get punched and hit and kidnapped and implanted. Ugh, gets very tedious. Part of me wants to look through the gaggle of discussions about the series, but I feel like that would be a rabbit hole that, once caught in, I would never be able to emerge from un-paranoid about everything. If you don't already know how I feel about ants, just know that I don't need anymore peculiarities in my world.

Guys, I found out I really like barley! Neat. 

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

What I did and why I did it


                                                          (Art by Jeff Johnson)

Recently, I was lucky enough to get a spot on the 2-day Raw Meet #5 Fest thing explosion in Boston. Two days' worth of some devastating and harsh shit from all along the Eastern seaboard. A really, really great weekend with some of the sweetest and enthusiastic people on earth.

For my "set," I took all the audio from the movie "Willow" with Val Kilmer and Warwick Davis (and don't forget Kevin Pollak, hello!), and tried to cut it up into tiny bits and then make it into something rhythmic and fun to listen to. I also made an outfit out of an old gross coat from Goodwill, and a shirt that Janine made for me. Finally, I built a prop that looked like a mixer, but if it had come from the forest.

There were a few reasons why I did it. One, I love "Willow." Two, I love building and collaging, even if it's with sound files. Three, after going to so many shows and watching all of these wonderful people twisting knobs, pushing buttons, and fiddling with wires and things, to me it always looked like magic. MAGIC. I don't understand how it all works. I don't understand what the devices do. I don't know how they make all those sounds with just a box with buttons on it!! It's like a MAGIC SHOW and I don't know how they do the tricks! So, my "performance" was like an ode to their witchery. I treated my prop mixer like a holy talisman, an amulet that made the sounds happen!! WITH LIGHTS!!

That was my one and only "show" for that project. The next project will have a different name based on whatever movie I pick next. I have no idea if or when I'll get to perform it for people, but it'd be really fun if I did. 

Here's where it lives on SoundCloud. 
RAW MEET 5 DAIKINI BABY FINAL 4 21 2012

Feel free to share it and laugh. Thanks very much to Elise, Janine, and Morgan for help with construction. 
(Hey, it's a little side boob. Get over it.)