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October 2009

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13th Oct, 2009

sartorialike

Oh, oh, oh. I want to knit this scarf. If I could knit the girl too that would be great also.

6th Oct, 2009

big houses, big coats

I really need to do a post on a recent and very lucky trip to NYC, but for the moment this will have to suffice - a trip to the west of Ireland. Or, rather, a trip back to a version of the west of Ireland that probably never existed and is hopelessly romantic and possibly controversial from a socio-political point of view, but I'm taking an art for art's sake stance on this one. It's just bloody gorgeous to look at.

Mist, big coats, patterned scarves and wild hair. Pornography for winter lovers, essentially.

http://www.toast.co.uk

Mmmmhmmmm. Oh, and play spot the famous figure from Irish history.

26th Aug, 2009

pablo's socks

Knitters and poetry fans may have seen this before, but it is new to me. As a wide-footed, thick-ankled gal sorely lacking in foot appeal, I empathize with poor Pablo's gangly pair. And I love the idea of handknit socks as precious tropical birds.

Why do people who hate their feet love to knit socks? Just something I've noticed in passing - in fact at the last knit night I attended, a number of people confessed to hating their feet. Near all of them were holding socks-in-progress.

It also reminds me of the graffiti on a wall near where I was staying in Lisbon last year - a Pablo Neruda poem, in Portuguese. Rockin'.



Ode to my Socks

Maru Mori brought me
a pair
of socks
that she knit with her
shepherd's hands.

Two socks as soft
as rabbit fur.

I thrust my feet
inside them
as if they were
two
little boxes
knit
from threads
of sunset
and sheepskin.

My feet were
two woolen
fish
in those outrageous socks,
two gangly,
navy-blue sharks
impaled
on a golden thread,
two giant blackbirds,
two cannons:

thus
were my feet
honored
by
those
heavenly
socks.

They were
so beautiful
I found my feet
unlovable
for the very first time,
like two crusty old
firemen, firemen
unworthy
of that embroidered
fire,
those incandescent
socks.

Nevertheless
I fought
the sharp temptation
to put them away
the way schoolboys
put
fireflies in a bottle,
the way scholars
hoard
holy writ.

I fought
the mad urge
to lock them
in a golden
cage
and feed them birdseed
and morsels of pink melon
every day.

Like jungle
explorers
who deliver a young deer
of the rarest species
to the roasting spit
then wolf it down
in shame,
I stretched
my feet forward
and pulled on
those
gorgeous
socks,
and over them
my shoes.

So this is
the moral of my ode:
beauty is beauty
twice over
and good things are doubly
good
when you're talking
about
a pair of wool
socks
in the dead of winter.


13th Aug, 2009

Now that's journalism.

(Almost) feel like I was there.

Check out the video if you want to hear the ever-wonderful Yarn Harlot explain the Knitting World Record challenge.

http://www.oregonlive.com/entertainment/index.ssf/2009/08/have_needles_will_knit_portlan.html
Tags:

7th Aug, 2009

'Why do you need fake ID?'

'To vote of course.'

Had to interrupt the silence to add my voice to the millions.

This is the best thing I've read on the subject. So good to learn your hero was a nice guy (and a canny researcher).


8th Apr, 2009

(no subject)

I LOVE this story:

If in doubt, crochet. And before you greet reporters, don't forget to fix your hair.
Tags:

13th Aug, 2007

“Disapparate” — a term that always makes me think of an attempt at English by George W. Bush

I know I should hate him, but I can't. Not when he voices my own objections (and other suspicions) so beautifully:

"In this final volume there is a good deal of loose-end gathering to be done. Which side was Snape really on? Can Neville Longbottom rise above himself? Are the Malfoys as black as they have been painted? Unfortunately — and with the solid exception of Neville, whose gallantry is well evoked — these resolutions prove to possess all the excitement of an old-style Perry Mason-type summing-up, prompted by a stock character who says, “There’s just one thing I don’t understand. ...” Most of all this is true of Voldemort himself, who becomes more tiresome than an Ian Fleming villain, or the vicious but verbose Nicolae Carpathia in the Left Behind series, as he offers boastful explanations that are at once grandiose and vacuous. This bad and pedantic habit persists until the final duel, which at least sees us back in the old school precincts once again. “We must not let in daylight upon magic,” as Walter Bagehot remarked in another connection, and the wish to have everything clarified is eventually self-defeating in its own terms. In her correct determination to bring down the curtain decisively, Rowling has gone further than she should, and given us not so much a happy ending as an ending which suggests that evil has actually been defeated (you should forgive the expression) for good." (Read the rest here.)

3rd Aug, 2007

ribbons and bows

Dublin dwellers and fans of all things passementerie (that's haberdashery, luv) take note: LM Ruban is dead (you knew that). Long live A. Rubanesque. My brother's friend has just breathed new life into the old ribbon shop and it's utterly, utterly lovely. Find it at 27 South William Street, Dublin 2.

24th Jul, 2007

(no subject)

I am not reading anyone's journals right now as I have about eight books to read before work before I can go anywhere near Harry and yis bastards are all talking about it. I keep shooting envious looks at Harry readers on the dart as I dive into yet another Glossy Mag-approved tome.

19th Jul, 2007

On interpretation ...

"My novel Fossil Hunter, for instance, appears to be about a struggle for power in a world of intelligent dinosaurs, but is actually about the Roman Catholic Church's stance on birth control and abortion."
(From an interview with Fossil Hunter's author.)

I love science fiction.

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