Oh, I forgot to tell you. Guess who got her AKC Canine Good Citizen certification on the 17th of this very month?
July 2009 Archives
Another gift for yet another person who doesn't read this blog. Shhhh!
I know the title is unbearably stupid. It sounds like the name of an old MGM cartoon or something.
Weird little watercolor sketch. It's a gift for someone who doesn't read this blog.
Now that you've seen the Polaroids chronicling the satyric revelry in Justin's apartment, I can give you the summary. I had a fantastic time. A disproportionate amount of it was spent indoors, but that was all right; we spent a lot of time outdoors, too, just wandering around the city, going to bars, and marveling at it all. Jennifer, Justin and Cathy (pictured below) were very kind to tolerate my new-to-the-city ways.
The lot of us went to visit MoCCA on Monday (7/13), only to discover, to our disappointment, that it's closed on Mondays. To make up for it, we did end up seeing this fantastic little gallery showing of bizarre Dali prints, most of which I had never seen before. One depicted a giraffe on fire falling out a window. I am not joking.
Monday we also went down to Chinatown, where we ate delicious pork dumplings and I bought cheap crap on Canal Street. This was actually my favorite part of the city, by far. Where else can you get a $5 pair of sunglasses, argue down the price of a belt buckle, and buy a DVD of a crappy movie out of a suitcase? That's right, nowhere.
Hyatt wanted to meet up with us that evening and go to Forbidden Planet, but (admittedly on my insistence) we wound up going into a Halloween store first. This place was great, by the way. It had all kinds of stuff hidden in nooks and crannies, which is the worst way to lay out a grocery store but the best way to lay out a Halloween store. There were a few things I wanted to buy there, but willpower won out. I left with an excellent Betty Boop Talkartoon poster and that was that.
I had heard a lot of good things about Forbidden Planet, but frankly, though it was a nice store, Ann Arbor's Vault of Midnight is better, and the staff is nicer, too. I bought some things there anyway.
On Tuesday I wanted to do dumb tourist stuff, like go down to Battery Park and stare out at the Statue of Liberty over the water and see Central Park and Times Square and all that jazz. We ate breakfast at Ess-a-bagel, which came quite highly recommended by my boyfriend, and it lived up to all my expectations. Then Max (above) and I headed down to Battery Park.
It was getting late in the afternoon when Justin and Jennifer came to fetch us so we could go to Central Park (after puttering around with Max and me a little in Battery Park, of course). The parks in NYC are all gorgeous, by the way. After some playground antics, we were going to wait for Hyatt at the statue of Balto, but then I guess we were going to meet him at Times Square instead. Oops.
The main thing I took away from seeing Times Square at night was that I am not sure I ever want to go to Times Square again. Everything is covered in flashing lights. It's overwhelming. New Yorkers don't like it there, and I don't blame them.
We ate some tasty Italian food. Then, the next morning, we left.
Since I know you're positively dying to live vicariously through my friends and me by looking at our vacation photographs, you should check out the rest of them on Flickr.
These ones were all from our last night there. I think everyone was kind of exhausted from the change of routine back to one very similar to our shared college experience. Staying up all night, drinking and watching YouTube at all hours, annoying the upstairs neighbors. We're old now. It's harder to do that sort of thing.
The next morning, we were gone. I went to the airport, Max to the train, Justin to do some kind of work involving a gay beach party. I think the thing I hate most is the dissipation of the magic and adrenaline that surrounds travel and vacations and picking up a comfortable friendship right where it left off.
This one didn't turn out all that well, but Justin has this weird glowing Jesus nightlight. It's actually a little creepy, and in that respect it's also quite wonderful.
I told Max to use the last Polaroid in the cartridge, and he took a picture of Justin's ear. That was lame.
Polaroid photography was exclusively limited to indoors in the morning or at night, mostly because I generally didn't have it on me after I ran out of Holga film during the day. I had to shoot the Holga during the day; the thing only has two settings, "sunny" and "slightly less sunny," and anything taken indoors on that camera was a dark, muddy mess. I had to play to my machines' strengths.
I mention this because though these are delightful snapshots of my friends, they aren't nearly as interesting as the outdoor shots I took on the Holga and the digital camera. You've been warned.
We spent most every evening (and in fact most of our time, since we woke up so late and I am such a slow-moving beast when I travel) in Justin's apartment, watching videos on his giant computer monitor.
Max had brought along his banjo, so I finally got a chance to hear the dude play. He's not bad. That's right, Max, I think you're pretty good at this. For the record, Cathy is also good at the banjo, but I didn't actually manage to get a Polaroid of her playing.
The above sequence is fairly representative of that evening. One minute, we're just sitting around, watching something on the computer. The next, we're still watching videos, but the boys have their shirts off. We were drunk, sorry. I think we had been watching Troll 2, and the only appropriate way to watch Troll 2 is at least mildly soused.
A little about my trip last week. I woke up bright and early on Saturday morning after very little sleep (pre-travel anxiety, you know). To make things easier for me, my boyfriend, who also watched my pets for me while I was gone, offered to drive me to the airport. Otherwise, I would have had to drive into Boulder, park in the Park-n-Ride and take the airport bus. So yeah, I accept this offer.
Turns out, that wasn't such a hot idea. Steve's car is my old car, the maroon Chevy Lumina. I guess a coolant hose had rusted out and was leaking. But yeah, we're driving on the highway and the temp sensor comes on. And so we pull off and are headed to a gas station or something, and the car starts smoking. We can smell it burning. Stop, hazards on, in the middle of traffic. Call 9-1-1. The fire engine shows up to make sure it's not on fire, the cops show up to move it out of traffic. For the time being, it's looking like I'm stranded, but through pure providence, we've pulled off a mile or two from where Hiram, one of Steve's co-workers, lives. The dude is kind enough to not only get out of bed and drive out to help us, but he actually drives me all the way to the airport. I am in eternal debt to Hiram.
ANYWAY, a dull and rather uneventful plane ride and layover and other plane ride later, wherein I notice a profound change in the type of passenger present (Denver to Chicago, then Chicago to New York--at the layover I saw that the latter flight included a fellow wearing a collared shirt and tie, sporting an Achewood "Dude and Catastrophe" tattoo on his lower arm, and I carelessly forgot to photograph him), and then I am in New York. A short shuttle ride, and I am in Grand Central Station. Immediately in, I am pretty sure I see a pair of pickpockets doing a pretty transparent shtick of colliding with people and running away.
This is New York. I try not to look terrified. I loiter by some empty ticket windows and wait for my friends to come fetch me.
Enter Max and Cathy, Masters of the Underground. Justin and Jennifer, the fine friends with whom Max and I were staying, were at a party with some of their friends. It is in perhaps the richest section of town. That night, I got a chance to see how the other half lives (ans: they have cookouts on their patio and drink pretty awful beer--basically they live like most people, except in very nice houses).
Our host for that evening was a fellow named Matt, pictured below in a photograph carefully arranged to look like it was taken in 1981. We were talking about Polaroid, and that's when the cameras came out.
I admit I am so shy unless I'm inebriated--and sometimes even then--so I spent most of the evening just talking to Cathy and Max. Which was all right because I had not seen those two in a dog's age, and Justin in even longer, I think. But since Justin knew all these guys, he was out mingling most of the time.
Below you can see our attempt to create a Sears-style studio portrait with Justin, Jennifer and Cathy. Max left to have a long telephone conversation for most of the time that the camera was out, so he does not appear in the photos. Sorry, dude, this is what happens.
I have no idea what's going on in the next one. No idea. All I know is that is Jennifer's hand reaching into frame, and it makes me so very happy.
Anyway, we ate some hamburgers and then we ate the best ice cream cake. And we hung around to help clean up after most of the other guests had left, because we're good kids. Max spent some time talking to Matt about guns. There was some Xbox playing going on in the dungeon (basement) for a while. Eventually we left and went to Justin's keen Manhattan apartment and I slept on a futon. Max slept on a terrifying air-bed that partially deflated during the night.
None of this is all that interesting. I'm sorry. The next NYC post will be better, I promise. I have some Holga photos that will be coming back on Monday. My first color roll. I'm excited.
TO BE CONTINUED
Sharpie sketch from life. Sadie stretches her legs out behind her while she sleeps. I don't know why, don't ask me.
Sharpie sketch from life of my pet cat, who was lying at the other end of the futon while I was watching television. The text is actually a spot advertising the ten o'clock news on the local CBS station. Only in Colorado, folks.
You may or may not have been aware of this, but last weekend I went to New York City. Confidentially, I had never been to New York City before, but was aware of several interesting facts about it. Namely, it is huge and has an excellent public transit system and everyone who lives there is either rich or lives in a horrible tenement. Also, the food there is excellent.
In my journey I discovered that these facts are all true. And also that at night the flashing lights of Times Square are almost terrifying.
Over the next few days I'll be posting some photos (digital, Polaroid, and Holga [depending on how well the Holga photos turn out]). I will tell you little stories about the photos I took. You'll love them, I promise.
I didn't draw much while I was there (too busy being drunk and running around a huge city), but if Max scans the stuff I drew in his books, I'll post it.
While trying to think of a title for this one, I was a little surprised when I realized this is maybe the fourth time I've ever drawn this character smiling. He is always worried.
Little pencil doodle.
An ink sketch done for a family friend, for the "making free stuff" meme that was going around Facebook a few months back. This was a good excuse to play around with my dip ink pens.
There's going to be a few more of these over the coming months. I'm hoping to blow through a big batch of them in the following week. I plan to do some weird craft items, too, not just drawings, so this should be fun.