It's a Lazy Day, It's a Crazy Day

See.. I had written this whole post yesterday about a reinterpretation of Simone de Beauvoir because of some existential trouble. And then I looked it over, talked with a friend on the other side of the freakking ocean (really helped and thanks ifyou ever read this). And then realised

what the hell. Screw the reading for tomorrow and the emails I should send and the talk I shoudl have and all. Whathever.

I'm just going to put this song on and knit a jellyfish.


Cause if there is someone you can count on is the Flying Burrito Brothers...

Dark Side of the Moon Knitting Pattern

And voilá! It's done! (it was already a couple of weeks ago, but only now did I get a chance to post it here)

"I'll See You On the Dark Side of the Moon"
Wall Hanging

For the project click on the picture above

To download the pattern (which includes a great and tested colourwork scheme to follow for any project with the logo) click on :

http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/dark-side-of-the-moon-wall-hanging

The pattern is in English and has quite a lot of explanation and tips, but do not hesitate to email me for translations for Français and Português (will make them available shortly) =)

This took me about a week to do. It's tricky with the intarsia (it was the first time I used the technique as well). But the result is very satisfactory in terms of reproducing the effect with enough nuances.

To improve/future plans:
- make a black sweater with this on the back
- try even more colours in the rainbow (need to fins exact shades - diffidcult - and manage all the yarns at the same time - extreme =) - )
- experiment with some silverish yarn around the prism


Put the record on and knit away ....

Songs for the Forgotten Girls or 3 bitter and sad songs

As I was watching a series that marked my childhood about a bright young girl in a small american town, I remembered where so many feelings of revolt and frustration have come from for me and so many others.

We were sold the story. Small bright young girls, dreaming of adventure and glory. Eager, passionate. Waiting. Waiting for Marlon Brando to stop for a coffee in a motorcycle. Waiting for the sweet and tender alien hunted down by government to take us on a world of dangerous adventures. Waiting for Danny to show us what summer rommance was all about, for Cry-Baby Walker to make us into bad girls or for some handsome stranger to teach us how to dance. Waiting to find out around the corner, by accident, or destinies.

And we waited, and we waited. And no one came around. And we realised we were sold into a cruel myth that kept us wasting our lives away for a man that would never come, for a life we would never have.

Some of us still had it in them to get up. And we went away. We bought the motorcycle and rode it ourselves, and we got what we wanted in life with a bit more hardship than predicted. We hitched-hicked West, we flew North or we took the bus South, and left our small little towns where american highschools failed to materialise and no leather-jacket ever showed up. And we are glad we did. We are proud of ourselves.

But once in a while, the little girls in us still feel the pain of being left behind, the betrayal of having been tricked into allienation. We feel revolt and an immense sadness, now rationalized and overcome, but still there.

These are some songs for us. For all the forgotten girls.

A little bit of true poetry or what is on my MP3 player these days

By the Dresden Dolls

BAD HABIT

biting keeps your words at bay
tending to the sores that stay
happiness is just a gash away
when i open a familiar scar
pain goes shooting like a star
comfort hasn't failed to follow so far...

and you might say it's self-indulgent
you might say its self-destructive
but, you see, it's more productive
than if i were to be healthy

& pens and penknives take the blame
crane my neck & scratch my name
but the ugly marks
are worth the momentary gain...
when i jab a sharpened object in
choirs of angels seem to sing
hymns of hate in memorandum

and you might say it's self-indulgent
and you might say it's self-destructive
but, you see, it's more productive
than if i were to be happy

and sappy songs about sex and cheating
bland accounts of two lovers meeting
make me want to give mankind a beating

and you might say it's self-destructive
but, you see, i'd kick the bucket
sixty times before i'd kick the habit

and as the skin rips off i cherish the revolting thought
that even if i quit
there's not a chance in hell i'd stop
and anyone can see the signs
mittens in the summertime
thank you for your pity, you are too kind

and you might say its self-inflicted
but you see that's contradictive
why on earth would anyone practice self destruction?

and pain opinions are sitcom feeding
they dont know that their minds are teething
makes me want to give mankind a beating

i'm tried bandages and sinking
i've tried gloves and even thinking
i've tried vaseline
i've tried everything
and no-one cares if your back is bleeding
they're concerned with their hair receding
looking back it was all maltreating
every thought that occurred misleading

makes me want to give myself a beating....

Being Old #3 - The Writers

Chapters 3 - The Writers

Anaïs Nin

Being Old #2 - The Musicians

Chapter 2 - The Musicians

Joan Baez



Ray Manzarek