Knit PH at Freddy's: Dec. 20, 2008

Develop Don't Destroy Brooklyn had their annual Holiday Bash at Freddy's before our Knit Night. The question was "So who's going to clean up this mess?" his question wasn't about the party it was about the disaster area created by Forest City Ratner now that the Atlantic Yards Project has reached a (permanent) stall due to lack of funding.





Food, family and neighborhood solidarity — Scotty and JP lead the caroling along with Chris Owens and son(s). The Manson Family Picnic gave us a show. Our District (#35) Council leader Leticia James popped in. She got a chance to see Dan and Shabnam's new baby... Shab joined Knit PH recently, she's making hats for baby Seeta. What a beautiful baby girl.



Marina and I were the first of Knit PH to show up since we're both active with DDDB. She's working on beautiful headband/neck warmers that she designed. She did well at the Lyceum craft show. Soon the party was over and Knit PH popped in.



Alexandra was the first to arrive, she had a beer out front while Marina and I cleared the tables, except for the tray of rugelach of course. Soon everyone else popped in with Christmas gift in progress Sarah, Marci, Victoria, Tracey... Adrienne joined our group recently. She met us at Prospect Perk at our last MeetUp.



Victoria brought some carob-coated "M&Ms" from the food co-op. Similar to Fig Newtons, they're always a bit stale, but I like them. Tracey vowed to finish the ribbed scarf she started last winter, I worked on a present for Stephanie, and Adrienne... a pair of gloves and a hat for her hubby. Over snacks and beer, we got onto the topic of Hanukkah. Marci says it isn't an Orthodox Jewish holiday so she doesn't celebrate it. We also had the usual conversation: patterns, knitting tips, Christmas gifts, the sagging economy... etc.



Celebrities who knit and male knitters are very worn-out topics. We seemed to hit a stride with of knitting in movies. Marina brought up the Tita's fantastically long trailing shawl from "Like Water for Chocolate" (1993, Alfonso Arua), Some one pointed out that it was crocheted. Adrienne brought up Edith Piaf knitting in "La Vie en Rose" (2007, Olivier Dahan). I mentioned a few: "Fargo," "Witness," and "Shipping News." Cartoons often use the imagery of knitting to anticipate the arrival of a newborn. But in cinema it's always used as a metaphor that anticipates tragedy or comedy. Here are some of my observations.

Dancing At Lughnasa
(Pat O'Connor, 1998)
One would think that a movie with the word dancing in the title would be a feel-good flick. Not so in this film. Brian Friel's stage play comes to life on the screen. Kate (Meryl Streep) is the family wage-earner in the small Irish town of Ballybeg, Donnegal. The cast of characters are united when their older brother, a priest, returns from Africa after mental breakdown.



Five unmarried sisters feel the financial impact as Kate, the eldest, loses her teaching job. Their eight-year-old nephew redsicovers his father, but says goodbye as he leaves to fight the war against Franco. The women are forced depend on a meager income knitting gloves. But when a knitting factory opens up-river and the WW2 economy falls apart, their situation grows dire. Two sisters leave Lugnasa to find work and better fortune in England but their lives end in tragedy. Now that's Irish!



Breakfast At Tiffany's
(Blake Edwards, 1961)
This brilliant movie is based on a book by Truman Capote. A former call girl, Holly Golightly (Audrey Hepburn) turns a new leaf as she attempts domesticity. She's learned to knit and cook. An old flame Paul Varjak (George Peppard) reunites with her one last time before she leaves for Brazil. No longer a kept man, he is now a successful writer. Holly is trading her life as an escort for one of a Brazilian diplomat's fiance.



But her tarnished past has returned to ruin her future. As they take an after-dinner stroll Holly is arrested for running messages for the notorious Sally Tomato. Free on bail, Paul picks her up in a cab along with her belongings and her cat (named "Cat").



He informs her that José Luis was pressured by his family to end their engagement. In a fit of rage she throws Cat from the cab, but then regretfully calls out as they search in the rain. I saw this at the drive-in when I was a kid. The whole notion that Audrey Hepburn was a prostitute went over my 4-year-old head and I didn't understand why she threw a cat from a moving vehicle. So how does an Upper East Side prostitute afford a Hubert Givenchy/Pauline Trigere wardrobe anyway?

How To Succeed In Business
(David Swift, 1967)
J. Pierpont Finch (Robert Morse) climbs his way to top as a window washer who literally connives his way up the ladder to become VP of Advertising after he buys a book called "How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying".



In the scene above, Finch curries favor with his boss by pretending to share the big man's passion for knitting. "You know Mr. Bigley, I feel sorry for men who don't knit. They lead empty lives." "I find that knitting helps me think more clearly. What are you knitting?" "Uhhh. A bird cage cover." Mr. Bigley actually knit English-style correctly, but Finch knits as if he's tryign to solder yarn with two metal sticks. I like Robert Morse, he has a face built for comedy.



Mr. Lucky
(H.C. Potter, 1943)
Hilarity ensues in the 1943 comedy "Mr. Lucky." Notorious gambling magnet Joe Adams (Carey Grant) dodges the draft by assuming a dead man's identity not knowing that the deceased was a wanted felon. Desperate to skip town Adams and his thugs scheme a beautiful society woman, Dorothy (Laraine Day) and her women's War Relief charity ball. He even feigns an interest in knitting blankets for soldiers, but eventually he comes clean and they fall in love.

Broke Back Mountian
(Ang Lee, 2005)
As dutiful wife Alma Del Mar (Michelle Williams) occupies her time knitting, her husband Enis (Heath Ledger) reunites with an old sheep ranching buddy, Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal). Little does she know that the wool is being pulled over her eyes as both men were not in fact tending the flock. And we all know what happened to Heath Ledger. Very sad.



Fargo
(Joel & Ethan Coen, 1996)
As Jean Lundegaard (Kristin Rudrüd) knits quietly she is unaware that her husband Jerry (William H. Macy) has arranged for her kidnapping in order to get her wealthy father to pay for her ransom.



Two bungling thugs, Carl (Steve Buscemi) and The Swede, Gaer Grimsrud (Peter Stormare), are hired to do the deed. The darkness of a small "Minnesota nice" town is realized when plans go awry and a killing spree ensues.



In this slow-chase abduction scene, a suburban calm is broken. Jean Lundegaard knits while watching TV wearing her pink jogging suit and house slippers. Then from the sliding glass door she sees a masked man. He starts pounding on the glass as she curiously stairs but continues to knit. After about a minute of pounding the glass door finally shatters.



She screams and throws her knitting to the floor and runs for cover. A second masked man enters and at a zomblie-like pace they follow her upstairs. She bursts through the bathroom door running past them with a shower curtain over her head. She screams hysterically, tumbles down the stairs and knocks herself unconscious. "Fargo" is one of my favorite Coen Brother's movies along with "Raising Arizona."



The Happening
(M. Night Shyamalan, 2008)
Elliot Moore (MarkWalberg) and his wife Alma (Zooey Deschanel) run for their lives in a battle against nature and man. This comic vignette demonstrates the correct way to deal with catastrophy: put on a gas mask and make a sweater. But as with most Shyamalan cinematic adventures. Movie Spoiler:  Nothing really happens in "The Happening."

Green Ranger: A Hooded Scarf

No paladin or blade-carrying warrior should be without proper outerwear, especially when stalking the enemy in winter. This is Green Ranger, a long hooded scarf. It's one in a series of LOTR inspired knits. This is a late birthday/ on-time Christmas gift for a friend who is an aspiring Elven Thief. Ori, one of the partners at Prospect Perk Cafe, was kind enough to show it off for me.



Green Ranger is made from 6 balls of Louet "Riverstone" (bulky, 165 yds per skein) and one ball of Filtes Filati "Extra" (bulky, 99 yds per ball). The hood took the longest to figure out. The hood's facing has a sewn hem construction for stability, otherwise it flops around the face too much — which makes it difficult to handle bladed and bow weapons.





I made the top of the hood with "Extra" — it softer on the skin than "Riverstone." Green Ranger is knit from the hood down. Expanding symmetrically into a back panel, which is wide enough to cover the back like a small capelet. Mirrored cables flank the center of the back panel over a mossy ground.



Both moss scarf panels are each about 4 feet long, finished with simple 4-plait braids. It's long enough to wrap over the shoulders and back to the front.



This garment is part hoody, scarf, and Balaclava, but I don't think anyone will remember a name like hood-scar-clava. It's very warm. By the way, I also made that green dragon head on the wall.



Are there any lady Rangers out there? I've met only a few. Although Green Ranger is intended to be a man's garment, Anastasia, one of our Knit PH members proved us wrong. She suggested that it needs a clasp or a button at the neck, for security when evading rogue LARPers while skulking through a bog. Women really know how to wear scarves.

Knit At Perk: December 09, 2008

I tried to air out the smell of wet alpaca and cigarettes from my apartment before I set out to Perk. I also forgot where I put my camera battery after I charged it, probably under some pile of yarn or semi-organized stack of paper. So no pictures at Perk this month as we enter "The Gifting Season", doesn't that sound like a horror movie starring Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen?

"Because we live in an age of... what do you call it?" Lisa asked me in mid-sweater "Douche-bagness?" Anastasia, a print designer, is a new Knit PH member. She mentioned a cultural rift with her pier group and their burdened sense of entitlement. It might be for the fact that she's Russian and most of our white collar Americans are douche bags. "We live in an age of douche-baggery." I replied, and she nodded. I didn't even want to mention ass-hattery, which involves a life-time supply of anti-depressants and supporting your child's poetry hobby well into his late-30s. Anyhow, we're all working on Christmas gifts. Hooray.

Eliza, started her plum sweater over after realizing she was working on smaller needles at the Flatbush Stich n' Bitch in Midwood. A beautiful Cascade Tweed in deep plum — that's worth frogging and starting over. I worked on my moss green LOTR hooded scarf. It seems as if I've been working on this thing forever, ripping it out and re-writing the pattern, ripping it out again... etc. At one point this thing was just too heavy to wear. I re-did the top of the hood in a lighter-weight wool (Filtes King "Extra"), but kept the rest in Louet "Riverstone." It keeps getting bigger, but how long can I keep pushing this Sysiphus-size ball of yarn up a hill?

Naomi is also a new member, she lives in Greenpoint. She braved the G train to knit with us. She wrote me earlier about a Berroco sweater with confusing instructions. After reading the instructions for the left front panel we figured that the first two instructions didn't apply to her size. But the increase v. decrease instructions for the neck and arm went to hell! Eliza took a stab, she's made a few Berroco items. Then she rolled her eyes and shook her head, just as we both did. To add insult to injury, the instructions for the right panel read "mirror the left panel."

Epilogue: We all confirmed that the Berroco instructions are confusing but the sweater on the model looks simple.

Naomi performs in a traveling stage production called "Piaf, Love Conquers All." Piaf was a tricoteuse and a chanteuse. I asked if she knits as Piaf on stage. She said no, but there is a scene where she descends into madness and rips out a sweater. A frogging frog? So before each performance Naomi has to re-knit the same sweater — more like Penelope than Piaf.

Robin arrived at around 8:40 pm. On Tuesday nights she knits with her mother in Queens. I'm amazed she still had the energy after that. She took off her hat and revealed a new short afro. "What happened to your dreads?" I asked. She took out a hat in progress "Brother, I don't even wanna get into that." I reminded her that I still have all the cotton/silk yarn she gave me before she left for Micronesia two years ago.



Soon it was time to go. Eliza asked about my Eskimo Pie hat, I have the hat pattern written down somewhere, I just have to find out where I filed it. I made this Waffle Stitch swatch (below) with bulky Icelandic Lopi, "Cranberry". Can you imagine putting something this rough and itchy against your head? This probably explains why Bjork punched that reporter in the mouth at Don Maung Airport: She was too itchy.



I sent Eliza the pattern. I found instructions on a Japanese site that were so confusing that I thought it was "Knitting as a Second Language", KSL? I re-wrote the stitch pattern using the "row" system.

Waffle Stitch
(Multiple of 2+1) For swatch, cast on 25.

R1: (WS) Purl all.
R2: ∗K1, sl1 knitwise; repeat ∗ until last stitch, k1.
R3: ∗K1, move yarn to front, sl1 by inserting right needle through left side of st†, move yarn to back; repeat ∗ until last stitch, k1.
R4: Knit1, k1tbl, until last stitch, k1.
R5: Purl all.
Repeat R2 to R5.

Note: The slipped stitch is right-twisted twice, first on R3† and then again on R4.

A Still Life with Cat

I have a lot of left-over yarn so I make cat toys for the feline residents at Stephanie's place: Fu Man Chu, Aung San Suu Kyi, and Anne Richards. They lead fairly sedentary lives — I figure if I can't get them to do some sit-ups I can get them to chase something.



The toys get their fare share of wear and tear. One of the orange mice was accidentally tossed through the living room window. Do cat's perceive color? I was told that cat's see with low-chroma vision — which helps them see at night when they seek to pee or barf in your shoes.



I searched the bushes the next morning, but had no luck. I imagine that a dog walked away very excited that it found a cat-scented mouse that fell from the heaven. Considering this is Brooklyn Heights I suspect the mouse was purloined by a puggle, lifted by a labradoodle or confiscated by a cockapoo.



So far the smaller cashmere mice do very well with the cats, as does the fingering-weight alpaca blue sausage. Fu likes chewing on the squid's eyes, but the tentacles confuse him — he prefers the string that's attached to it's head.



The bulky-weight merino blend mice are too heavy to bat around, so Anne Richards (above) enjoys cat-napping with them. She uses them as pillows. Suu Kyi is the most active of the three, but prefers fetching plastic bottle caps to playing with plush toys.

A Very Long Scarf

It's been a while since my last post. A lot has happened since: Barack Obama is our first African American president (yay)... but we're now in a recession riddled with lay-offs (boo)... the scandalous Atlantic Yards Project fiasco is has reached an end due to a bad economy (yay)... but as Forest City Ratner (the developer) lays off workmen FCR has left Prospect Heights in ruin (boo)... bush is forced to finally admits that we've been in a recession since last December (duh).

I had a flush of work after an odd drought, but at least I had time to re-plaster the water damage in my kitchen (yay). I haven't been writing much, though. I blame this on Epstein Bar (boo). Four blood tests and a $700 bill later, I found out that I have the late-80s chronic fatigue syndrome — I wonder if this classifies as a "retro virus". So now I'm catching up with knitting and Christmas presents (oi vey). This should prove to be an interesting new year 2009.



I finished this 9-foot long scarf for my friend Robert Malek Cole. He's a tall guy (6'3") so this should look like a normal scarf on him. Rob is a director/producer here in New York — and every director/producer needs a Truman Capote-length scarf. I asked my friend Bleu to sit for a prosperity photo before I pass this to Rob.

It looks Hobbit-ish on a smaller person, but Bleu makes it work. She wrapped it a few times around her neck and over her head to make a hood. Women know how to wear scarves. I like his portrait I took of Bleu sitting in Freddy's front window, the winter lighting reminds me of a Vermeer painting ("Black Girl with a Pearl Earring?").







I call this simple scarf "Malek". It's made from five skeins of bulky Berroco Cuzco using the Mistake Rib pattern. The result, a very deep, spongy rib. This alpaca/wool scarf weighs a bit but not as much as if it were 100% wool. 550 yards yeilds 9 feet on #8spn. This long scarf uses about half the yarn it would take to make a large man's sweater. I finished it off with four braids. I hate tassels.



Malek

Size: #8 spn

Yarn: 550 yds. bulky or worsted weight

Cast on 49 sts.
R1: k3, pm, k1, p1; k2, p2 until last 4; pm, k4.
R2: K4, sm k1, p2; k2 , p2 until last 6; k3, sm, K3.
R3: k3, sm, k1, p1; k2, p2 until lst 4; sm, k4.
Repeat R2 and R3 until you have completed a full row and have about 3 feet of yarn left. Bind off.

A Halfling Headcase

My bout with vertigo is finally over, I think, but you can't tell from these pictures I took. In my effort to create Tolkein inspired knits, I've designed three types of hooded scarves for the races of Elves, Men, and Halflings. They're a bit complicated, so I figured I needed to develop some beginner-level projects. This is my Halfling Hooded Scarf, it's simple and requireds some sewing. James was kind enough to lend a helping head.



The main piece of this Hobbit hoodie is a regular rectangular scarf knit in mistake rib , which is a 2 X 2 rib off-set by one stitch. I'm trying other reversable patterns, but I think mistake-rib has a humble appeal that's more fitting of a Hobbit. I originally intended this to be a child's scarf — no buttons nor ties. This would be good for children ages 6 and up.



The hood is formed by sewing a panel at the center back. I used a simple four-strand cable with a slightly different shade of yellow ochre (not "Yellow Oger") just for resolving pattern issues. But this would make a nice two-color scarf. I'm not a big fan of cablework on garments. Most cabled garments are over-designed in my opinion.





The hood can be worn up but it folds neatly on the back when it's worn down. Doesn't this look brooding and mysterious?

Arepas — Good Stuff from Caracas

This has nothing to do with knitting but... arepas are soft Venezuelan corn cakes which are lightly grilled and stuffed with different savory fillings. They’re different from the Mexican huarche, which is topped instead of filled, and similar to the Equadorian pupusa which is stuffed first and then grilled.

Last Wednesday I art directed and styled a food shoot for photographer Doug Todd. We shot arepas for a restaurant, Caracas, on East 7th street in Manhattan. Mark, Doug, and I got there around 8:00 a.m. just as the prep chefs started their day. Ilsa, the chef, arrived soon after, then the owners Gato and Maribel.

La Sureña: Grilled chicken, chorizo, and avocado slices served with chimichurri, a classic Veneuelan sauce.

De Pollo: Grilled chicken breast, caramelized onion, and cheddar cheese.

La Del Gato: Guayanés cheese, fried sweet plantains, and avocado slices. Gato hightly recommends this one.

La Pelua: Seasoned shredded beef with cheddar cheese.

De Pabellon: Shredded beef, black beans, sweet plantains, and aged cheese.

Reina Pepiada: Chilled chunky chicken and avocado salad, perfect for summer.

It was a long day — creating small sets, hovering over food, overseeing all details. Making food look good for the camera is a small magic act, but it helps when everything tastes so good. Some shots were difficult because the corn cakes and the assembly are very delicate. Everything was absolutely delicious, especially the ceviche. My favorite arepa was La Pelua — seasoned shredded beef with cheddar cheese. Ilsa patiently made everything for the shoot as we needed it, including the tostones.

Spinning

The nurse checked my blood pressure and weight and told me the doctor would be in soon. Some time had passed, I grew tired of staring at the framed etchings of cotton tail and grey squirrel. I got up from the table and read some of the "commonly mistaken medication" chart on the door. "Celebrex (arthitis relief)" "Celexa (anti-depressant)", the mix-up could prove comically tragic for geriatrics and manics alike.

The doctor asked me to sit down on the table. The crunch of perma-wrinkled protective paper sounded like fire. "Your blood pressure is fine — 126/170, no throat infection. How long have to you had vertigo?" I told her since Saturday, it had been 5 days since. I told her I was better but I still have sporadic episodes of "spinning." She did more tests. "Have you ever had this before?" I said twice. I laid back on the table. With both hands she gently turned my head to the right. Whoa! the whole room spun again as if I were on a roller coaster. It took me a while to get my bearings straight. "OK, now the other way." I think I yelled holy crap. Then she sat me up and tapped on my forehead amd temples. It felt my senior years flashed before of me as my brain hit the back of my skull. I could hear the fluid in my head make a dull reverberating thud.

She examined my ears and throat again, said they were clean, and told me that I had a problem with my labyrinth from my cold. "At this point, you just have to ride it out for a few more days. Walk slowly, don't drink any alcohol, drink lots of fluids and immune boosters, rest... and no coffee, it dries out your ears." No coffee? That's where I draw the line. Hmf. She gave me two presciptions and told me to come back if the vertigo persists. "Any questions?" "Who came up with this BMI chart. I haven't weighed 158 pounds since I was 12." She laughed "Not us."

Stephanie waited for me in the lobby. I'm glad she was there for me. You never really appreciate someone's support as much as when you're sick. I really don't like going to the doctor's office — for God's sake there's sick people in there. We've been back together for a few months now, but announcing it is slow. One Sunday morning last month when I was over at Steph's, I got up early and said I'd get some bagels for breakfast. Surprised, I ran into Eleanor and Marc on Montague. They're never around on Sunday. They asked what I was doing in the Heights so early. Instead of explaining that Stpeh and I were back together I just said "I'm a little hung-over, where is your bagel shop?" It seemd a bit complicated for morning conversation. Of course that led a string of phone messages that went "Are you OK, call me back?"

Pharmaphoebia? I have a fear of meds, or rather, a healthy respect for the side effects. Other than the sporadic spinning, momentary confusion and fatigue, I'm actually fine. Steph treated me to breakfast and went with me to pick up my meds.

After The Fall

Fall 2008 officially started this past Monday. Oddly it coincided with the fall of Lehman Brothers and Washington Mutual. "Wamu" declared $billion debt in delinquent and defaulted mortgages. This comes after the summer when mortgage giants Fanny May and Freddy Mac went belly-up. One has to ask, "What's next?" The talk of a "depression" hit Wall Street as CEO's jumped with multi-million dollar parachutes and newly-fired employees lined the streets in a daze, boxes in hand, as they were escorted from their buildings. But no one wants to officially admit we have been in a recession for quite some time now. The feds met all through the weekend to find a Federal bail-out solution, all courtesy of the American tax payer. I imagined the Four Riders of the Apocalypse riding down Flatbush asking "Which way to the bridge?"

I turned off the morning news and went out to get my day started over coffee. As a I stood in the line listening to the buzz of worry and discontent, a familiar voice called out "Hey stranger, aren't you gonna say hello!" It was Robin, she had just come back to Brooklyn after teaching for two years in Micronesia, my home turf. She's been trying to adjust back to New York, people, pace, food... etc. Although island life sounds ideal it has it's short comings. As Robin reflected, life on Majuro isn't what she originally thought. Of the five native fruiting trees native to Majuro, two are Breadfruit and Pandanas, staples that are high in starch. Most of the local food is fried since potable water isn't always reliable.

Spam™ and ramen are usual fare for lunch and dinner. Most fresh American goods are very expensive. For that matter, the cost of anything that's air-freighted is dear — a crate of strawberries $9. Other American imports are obecity and diabetes, modern problems on an ancient island. Of the three islands that comprise the Majuro Atoll the total land area is 3.75 miles square (9.7 km²). It's hard to believe most people don't walk everywhere. On the other hand the catch of the day is always fresh and life is simple on the Marshall Islands. Coconuts and papaya are free for picking. The lagoon is always clean and warm. Robin enjoyed her time away, she loved the people, was fond of the rainy season, learned to play the uku-lele and saw glorious sunsets. Is that so bad? It must be odd to leave a quiet pastoral life to come back the sound of Wall Street crashing.

"Living in the middle of a large ocean makes you feel very small." she said. I agreed — it puts a perspective onto the scale of your humanity, especially when you are the only black woman on Majuro. Robin always calls me "brother." I like that. She stills laughs about the time the Jamaican woman from Little Miss Muffin asked if I was a "Black Chinaman." I told Robin to re-join us this winter for knitting. I still have all the yarn that she gave me before she left (and more) and whole sets of needles.

Knit PH at the BMA: August 23, 2008

Marci told us that on her way back from the restroom the guard commented that our knitting circle was knitting in a circle — around a tree. It did look as though we were coaching a tree on the finer points of yarn craft. Lisa, Hibba, and Tracey arrived shortly. The sculpture garden at the Brooklyn Museum is one of my favorite places to knit. It's so quiet and there's always a cool breeze. One would never guess that Eastern Parkway was on the other side of the building.



Marci's winter jacket is in progress, she's almost done.  She completed this beautiful Swiss Cheese scarf crocheted with Noro Silk Garden. The texture reminds me of seaweed or drift wood. She's almost finished with her crochet shawl collar wrap jacket. Eliza and her husband spent some time up in Maine while their floors were being re-sanded. This gave her time to catch up on her dyeing. I love the color of her super-wash roving, she used the local goldenrod. I'm amazed this north eastern weed associated with allergies can yeild a soft sweet-butter color. This will eventually be spun into yarn.



Lisa was almost done with her tank top. I think this is a Nora Gaughan pattern. She used Berroco "Seduce". Lisa ripped out the collar a few times to get the right turn on the edge — body #7, collar and edges #5. She took a break from hosting the August "Knit in the Park". I suppose we can meet outdoors until the season grows too cold and dark. Lisa and I are the smokers in the group. Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's all bad. Smoke. Knit. Purl. Smoke. Blah blah blah.



But Tomo has quit smoking for over two weeks now. I think it's great that she has. On a more colorful note, Tomo is now teaching a seminar at ETSY Labs this Sepetmber here in Brooklyn: Dyeing with Kool-aid. Her dye work is simply gorgeous, with a masterful skill that caustic childhood beverage yeilds a range of beautiful bold colors. So far turn out has been good. People are dyeing to know.



Tomo, Hibba, Lisa and Eliza are test knitting Mannik Monkey and Pax L. Possum for me. Lisa already caught some errors among the typos. I'm working on a "Last Supper" diorama with monkeys for when I launch the Yarn Monkey store. I thought about doing the "14 Stations of the Cross" (the 15th station is for Easter only), but chances are I'd probably get firebombed by some Christian fundamentalist weaver. Maybe "Washington Crossing the Delaware" is more agnostic... and fire-proof.



Across the courtyard, a crew was busy constructing a large platform for the Panarama, the first evening of the West Indian Parade. The parade marks our summer coming to an end. August has been the cooler month of summer, which is highly unusual. The drone of cicadas has almost ceased, completing their 3-week life cycle and the sun is setting a bit earlier. I'm glad Eliza and Lisa took Knit PH outdoors this summer. During the winter, we'll all look back on warm days, a cool breeze and good conversation.

The Right Stuff?

The Mannik Monkey & Pax L. Possum pattern is available through PayPal and Ravelry. To Purchase click below.


Over the weekend I made two more stuffed knit toys as a variation on the Douche Bag doll pattern. This plush, pink creature is named Pax L. Possum, the anti-anxiety marsupial. Anti-anxiety medication is now a common thread in our American fiber, for adults and children alike. We certainly do live in anxious times — personally, politically, economically, globally. But I have no idea what it's like being on meds, I assume it's like having a great weight lifted from one's body for some people.



I actually have an illogical fear of becoming dependant on or addicted to... something.... which I guess makes this a non-specific phobia. Yet I've never been addicted to anything of note — hard drugs, pharmaceuticals, pot, booze, internet porn, gambling, TV... if only I'd ever get addicted to regular exercise. But I might need those extra 20 pounds if another war breaks out and the economy collapses. I owe this all to being a jaded art college student from the 80s.

Doesn't heroin sound so 80s? But as reported on the news it's a growing suburban epidemic. The closest thing I have to an addiction is a cigarette habit and penchant for buying more yarn just because it's on sale. Other phobias I have are a stark fear of electricity, being late, drowning, the sight of my own blood... these are all fairly "garden variety." I blame all these on Catholic school and nuns.



This green fuzzy guy is named Mannik Monkey, a perilous primate with a prehensile tail that you just can't shake. Meds and mania are steady companions. One friend describes his treatment as going "flat" but being able to think properly. So, Manic Monkey doesn't really go away, he just becomes reasonably annoying.



In the opinion of our pharmaceutical industry, addiction and phobia stem from imperfections in one's mind. They recommend a regime of chemical adjustments to the brain that may yield temporary relief from chronic symptoms. Who is looking for perfection? What is so wrong with being the spazzy-geeky kid? They make fine musicians and brilliant scientists. My father, may he rest peacefully, always said if he could wish anything for us kids, it would be that we would be just normal, healthy, and happy. In our modern age that might be asking too much.

Over the course of years, these chemical adjustments always need more adjustment. This might explain why a reasonable person might one day yell out something odd at a random barista, like "I just want half hot water and half coffee! Is that so hard? What is f******g wrong with you people!" We've all been in that coffee line. Brain chemistry is a weird, young science. I don't know if we should be playing with our gray matter so much, especially when it concerns children. Treatments start as young as the age of 9.

Douche-baggery

“Define douche bag?” a friend asked me over a beer. I pointed to the table of loud amateur drunks sitting behind us. They seemed to have confused a bar with their parents’ living room. Maybe that's why they think 50¢ is a decent tip...

So what is a douche bag? In medical terms, a douche bag is a sack used to administer a stream of water into one’s body for hygienic purposes. As a derogatory term it reached popularity in the early 1970’s, but in the HBO miniseries “Deadwood,” bad guy Al Swearengen places its origin at around the 1890’s. Peter Griffin from the cartoon “Family Guy” describes a douche as a person with an unkempt appearance, body odor and an unwarranted sense of accomplishment... (Kevin Federline/Magic Mirror espisode).

Douche bags have grown to include a wider cast of characters and meaning. On the outside one might observe a subclass of hipster with a flat-affect grin, over-priced American Apparel ensembles, ironic secondhand T-shirts, antique glasses that lend an appearance of “smarts,” a socially dysphoric demeanor... but douche-baggery goes beyond appearance, it has become a lifestyle. To better describe those that I've encountered here in New York, I made these demonstrative dolls that are similar to the ones used in family court.

Ph D(ouche)
If Prospect Heights, Park Slope and Fort Greene were a Venn Diagram, a small intersecting area would be labeled "Over-burdened Sense of Accomplishment." Meet the Ph D(ouche) — highly educated yet overly medicated, they no idea how big a douche they are. Often frustrated with those who only hold a BA, they are prone to inaproppriate outbursts. I don't blame these smarties for what they've become. I blame their parents for sticking them on SSRI meds since before the age of puberty. One solution for some parents is to keep their medicated darlings schooled well into adulthood hoping that they learn to play better with others by graduation day... and possibly get a job in publishing. Privilege comes at a price — an average of 36 to 40K a year. But pound for pound, a Doctorate in Poetry is much cheaper than simply locking these darlings up in a Gifted & Talented care facility.

Gurl Interrupted
The word douche bag describes the male component of this urban subculture, the female component is a douche baggette. A common subset of douche baggette is the Gold Digger, a man-hunting coke-head companion who never quite completed a Phd., dropped out of law college after the first year, dabbled in real estate, spent a lot of time in therapy, went back for the Phd then missed the extension deadline again... it all makes great party conversation. It’s so hard to leave the nest when it provides a meal program and the strong possibility of marrying upwards.

A true social chameleon, the gold digger can blend among Southamptonites and common barflies alike — sporting flip-flops, swigging Caiparinas, grabbing at prospective mates like a tree frog reaching for a passing branch. Outside of a shower room or a tropical island, the flip-flop is a beach accessory that makes no sense in an urban setting. In actuality it's a store-bought symbol of humility for the gold digger. Look out guys! It's a trap! The truth is no one really wants to see those dirty dogs at the office or in a restaurant, especially when arriving 45 minutes to an hour late due to foot pain from walking over concrete pavement.

Boy-rexic
Then there’s that skinny smelly kid with the BVDs hanging out of the top of his 70 dollar jeans. 6'4", 85 lbs, his iPod weights more than he does, he lives on candy and Redbull. We’ve all seen the Boy-rexic intern as he arrives an hour and half late for work. Seriously, we all assume he’s wearing underwear, so he need not prove it to strangers. And what’s up with the super-toxic body odor? One has to work very hard to smell that bad, but none of these guys seem to be steadily employed or eager to work. Has good hygiene gone out of style?

The Fixies
As an avid cyclist, my friend Bill has often said that anyone in New York with a $2,000 fixed-gear bike who refuses to wear a helmet is an absolute douche bag. “Fixies,” a cycling subculture, have become the loath of people who actually use their bikes as transportation. The notion of wearing a cycling helmet and using breaks is too conformist for their taste, and it messes up their faux-hawks. But if one can afford that bike, they can certainly afford a legal team and the hospital bill.

Fixies have become two-wheeled harbingers of death for New York pedestrians and other cyclists. As they ride over sidewalks, they yell obscenities at people with baby carriages, slow-walkers, and tourists. So why do Fixies proclaim so much hate for the peds and New York tourists? Fact: no Fixie is actually from New York — yet they think a crap attitude makes them more of a New Yorker. Like migrating Lycra clads birds en route to some place else, they descend upon the city only to text the others and feed, then go back from whence they came.