(I bet you thought I was out of purple shirts to wear, didn't you?
Friday, August 28, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
that last house I posted...it's a little more...special in the cute/
planned sort of way?
Last week I helped my friend paint her new house. (She is a lover of
purple, but not like the attached house's owner.) This was not the
first house i have seen where the prior owner painted rooms all one
color - INCLUDING THE TRIM! i don't care if you are design
challenged, it's just a no-no and you should feel pangs of regret as
soon as you do it and force yourself to fix it. (See the full purple
house a couple of weeks ago for how badly it was executed with the
foundation the same color as all else).
Anyway, the color of the trim could have been forgiven if it weren't
for the living room. It was brilliant 1980s Miami Vice PINK. but it
gets worse. someone decided to get creative. You know how you can
get painting textures with a sponge or a rag? and how you get two
colors in a random, textured pattern? yeah, they did this in the pink
room. and what was the accent color they sponged with? GREY. Dull,
ugly grey. It looked like there had been wallpaper that was peeled
off and the glue was still on the wall. no, it was grey paint.*
so in light of that, this here is my dream home. as light in the
loafers as it may be. i'm a sucker for victorian-styled anything.
Including victorian-period robot gentlemen in tuxes and top hats. but
that's another story for another time that has nothing to do with the
color purple and therefore is trivial and not worth mentioning. so i
*there is a happy ending. we repainted and the colors my friend
picked came out very nicely.
Monday, August 17, 2009
this blog's a little late.
Lots of miles traversed. Lots of foods consumed. Lots of peoples
met. Lots of songs played.
A few years ago a spring tour ended in Los Angeles, and as i had a
couple of days to kill, i walked around town. Stuff to see, etc.
Problem was, public transit out there is awful and i didn't have any
option other than walking (besides, i had run out of money and the one
cab i was able to take i stiffed him part of the bill - yikes!)
The only shoes I had were some converse sneakers. Which really hurts,
even when you get new sole inserts. I messed up my knee for weeks
after that. But still, saw what I could.
This tour we have my car with us (there's just 3 of us - Nat, myself
and different merch/general helpers) so we can get by without the gas
guzzling Ricardo. Today in Philly we'll be doing a lot of walking,
despite the car, most likely, as we're doing the equivalent of three
shows. You'd think I'd be smarter and NOT wear my chucks.
Friday, August 7, 2009
soon be on it's way. Which in and of itself signals that summer is
over. Anytime you are reminded that something is about to end, you
are then living under the burden of that realization, consciously or
not. Making plans to get them in while there is still time. Or
critiquing your lack of efficiency of time use, before your epiphany.
Wow, can I use some more big words in there? I must acquiesce that
that is feasible.
Anyway, here's to the end of summer, the last run-up to autumnal
rituals that in themselves bring us to winter - a rounding up of goods
and foodstuffs, a battening down before the weather and our self-
imposed winter quarantines. I swear it was only a few weeks ago when
I could inhale that first summer shower, the kind that blends in with
the pavement and reminds you of a time when you didn't know or care
enough to come in out of the rain. A viciously vivid scent that makes
you stop mid-stride and take note. An old friend in your cerebral
cortex that never ages, and pops up by your kitchen window to say
"hullo! remember me? can you come out to play?", only to be rebuffed
by the mounting responsibilities of adulthood with an off-hand "maybe
later". The greater the distance, the greater the ease of that casual
dismissal until the words are no longer meant or felt.
For myself, I desire to play the role of grasshopper against the noble
ant. A necessary, vicarious martyr not to be followed but to be
watched and lighten the humors of those surrounding. Whether that
desire feeds into action...doubtful. But hopeful. For there is
always hope. Especially where there are sundresses.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
was time to dye my air again. The sun and pool had beaten the color
of my hair into something unplanned, and it was just feeling time.
"Purple Passion" came out darker than I was expecting, but that's
what I get for refusing to bleach my hair in order to get a better
purple or cranberry. I know, I know...
But here's a shot from the last time i dyed it: