I spent the morning working on a scholarly essay for The Fatty Arbuckle Incident (it's a joke that doesn't bear explaining, I'm afraid). I wrote about thirteen pages of legal pad on the topic of saints and desperation. It still needs editing, but I hope to get some feedback from my co-editor. Thus far, there are only two postings, both from me, but I am sure she will pick up the slack soon. Besides, my wrist hurts.
I've finished the sleeve redux. I've given up on being a one-woman knitting machine. So now, I am slumped in front of my laptop listening to some Nina Simone. I love her interpretation of "Black is the Color of My True Love's Hair". Maybe I'm getting sentimental in my old age. I've loved a couple of brunets in my time. I'm also a big sucker for Astrid Gilberto, but that's probably something else.
I helped Lewis strip a door at the studio. It was good vocational therapy. It's funny considering that our production company encompasses so many things, from sound to furniture refinishing. We'd make an excellent foil to Martha Stewart, that's certain. I'd really look like I enjoyed beating things with whips and chains, instead of pretending not to! It was nice, though, to just sit on the floor and scrape away with my little razor blade. It was the first time in ages that I was content.
Now that I've got my cushy gig, I've got to start looking for the next one. I think something light-hearted like Hello, Dolly! would be a good sorbet to this experience. Well, obviously not Hello, Dolly!, since one should avoid shows with exclamation points in the title. They're almost all crap, with the exception of Ah, Wilderness! and Oklahoma! Any show that feels the need to shout on the marquee obviously has problems.


It has been a bad week for knitting. I lost one of the needles out of the striped sock planned as a gift for Lewis. Woefully far from completion, so I gave him theatre tickets for his birthday instead.
Since I was short a needle, I had to sit idly during one of the runs. I dashed up to Arcadia during the break, where I bought the makings of a Karabella cabled hat. Except I forgot to buy a cable needle. A dpn made a good substitute, but I quickly realized that an increasing cable pattern is too complex to knit in the dark.
I started the second sleeve on my cardigan. Shortly thereafter, I realized that the second sleeve was smaller than the first. A careful measurement of the sleeves revealed that the completed sleeve was knit at 3 3/4 stitches to the inch, and the second at 4. Hot damn. The finished sleeve was quickly frogged. I decided that my current projects, with the exception of the super simple sock, will not travel.
Work is good. I like my co-workers, which is a plus. We get a lot of ambient noise in the theatre, like sirens during an intimate scene, or the low rumble of a large car stereo. There aren't many sound cues during the show, so I have a lot of time for quiet pursuits. I found a book of celebrity scandals in the green room at the mainstage and had to appropriate it for the studio space. It's sort of a condensed tabloid, and as addictive as crack.
There's a fascinating issue of the New Yorker this week, on the topic of filmmaking. One of the articles is a profile of B-movie actress Jaime Pressly. I wonder if it will help or hurt her career, given some of the comments that she makes about several of her contemporaries. The photograph isn't exactly flattering, either.
I really enjoyed the short article (part of a series) about sound design for the cinema. It focussed solely on foley recording for an upcoming seafarer epic, pretty amazing stuff. I'm a big sucker for that sort of behind the scenes information, probably because I spend so much time in similar pursuits. I hope that the New Yorker will publish a similar issue on theatre in the future, though they already devote great amounts of ink to live entertainment.
In other news, I've started another blog, for more erudite work. So, now I'll have two to neglect instead of one. The new project is a collaboration with a college classmate. She also has a crazy schedule, but I hope that, between the two of us, we can keep our e-zine rolling.
I didn't go to my last three screenings after I was hit with another round of head cold. I think that I got it from a toothbrush that I keep at the studio, which I'd last used while sick. The sneezing was relentless, so I couldn't go to the screening of Tamala 2010 , which really interested me. But after I sneezed so hard that I felt an odd rip in the back of my throat, it seemed that going home to sleep was a better option. Luckily, it was not a vocal chord injury.
Inspired by the arrival of my paycheck, I bought the new knitting book by Debbie Stoller. You may know her as the founder/editor of BUST magazine and a NY Stitch n Bitch regular. It's well written, with several projects I'd like to tackle. The peppermint striped sweater is on the top of that list, though I should finish some of my UFOs first.
I finally got my hands on a copy of Time In, the most elusive album in Dave Brubeck's Time series. I've pursued it for ages, since I decided not to order it online. Somehow, that feels like cheating when in pursuit of a rarity. I happened across it at Borders, of all places.


Today is my last day at the film festival. I'm a bit sad about it, since I've seen three excellent films in as many days through the organization. It's really worthwhile, but I've got another job that starts on Tuesday. So, I'm hanging out at the old Borders outpost, working on my manager's laptop. The job has its perks: I can read and reshelve all the magazines I want from the bookstore and the cafe often gives us free drinks. We poor public service peeps have to stick together! Still, the management of the store seems peeved with us on a semi-regular basis, solely for being in their store. And there are all the weird customers. This store seems to be a crazy-magnet. We get a lot of questions as to where to find books in the store (I'm working here, but I don't work here), but my favorites are the guy who asked if we were selling CTA passes (nope) and the heavily accented Greek man who wanted to purchase a ticket for Cher. He had to say Cher five times before we realized he was saying Cher, not chair. There's a lot of mockery of customers. When we're in a good mood, we wait until they leave the store. It's funny that they hired a bunch of people who are too-cool-for-school as their customer service kids, but it represents the fest oddly well.
Yesterday, a man stole a big bag full of DVDs from Borders. We sit between the exit and a set of windows, so we see all the sad attempts at shoplifting. This guy was clearly a pro. He ran out, with security in hot pursuit, to waiting cab on Clark. He had a cab waiting for him. The cab peeled out, leaving Mr. Security Man standing on the pavement.
I've been taking public transportation with greater frequency these last few weeks. The CTA is a quirky thing. I ran into two people from my past on the # 22 last night. I can only wonder at the odds of that. Unfortunately, one of them slipped off into the rainy Chicago night before I got a number. Maybe I'll be one of those pathetic borderline stalkers who places "missed connection" ads in the Reader match section. I did a dramatic reading from this week's paper while bored at work the other night. They all sound so desperate, like "You, attractive, lithe blonde on Diversey bus. Me, short middle aged man wearing Cubs shirt. Can't stop thinking about you. Coffee, drinks, more?" Ugh.
I haven't had any time for personal activities lately. I devote most of my waking time to a job that I don't particularly enjoy, eight hours a day, plus transportation, seven days a week. Enough to drive a person crazy. My email account is seriously backed up with my listserv digests. This is the first time in ages I've been able to update my blog. I want to publish with Janet, but haven't even had a chance to email her about strategy. Argh. At least I'm getting knitting time. I knit at work in the downtime. I knit on the train. I finished one giant merino sock, a men's 12 1/2. Just the one, though, with said person's birthday fast approaching. Today, I am working on the raveled sleeve of care: another attempt at the Peace Fleece Everyday Cardigan. I got a call from one of their knitters with some clarification on the pattern (or really, my perception of it) and decided to take it back out of the bureau drawer. This has put my x-mas present socks on the back burner, as well as a seriously belated birthday present scarf, and a ribbed scarf in which I've completely lost interest. It's destined for the secret emergency present stash. I make things throughout the year and tuck them away in case someone's birthday sneaks up on me. I emptied it out when I made my recent trip to Iowa. Since Indian Summer will soon be a thing of the past, the sweater has higher priority.

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