benedict arnold, i'm moving

Hi guys. I don't know how to say this, but...From now on, GO HERE.

I'm moving to tumblr. Blogger has been so good to me. But it's time for a change. You can find me at snowdropsandphlox.tumblr.com

I will be keeping this little bloggie up, since all my links and stuff are here. And I may still post stuff here. Not sure.

Adieu for now, Blogger.

look at these fucking archaeologists

Bwahahaha! From LATFH via Max Silvestri:

Look At These Fucking Archaeologists

Apparently Williamsburg fashion circa 2009 comes straight out of the Badlands circa Jurassic Park. Note the sunglasses, plaids, high-waisted denim jeans, messenger bag, and the mullet haircut on the dude in the back. Even the guy working the dino ultrasound is sporting one of those Gestapo-style buzzed-on-the-side-parted-on-the-top haircuts that tall hipsters in my neighborhood like wearing.

you do not always know what I am feeling

There was a long period of my life when I idolized Frank O'Hara, but I haven't really thought about him in a long time. This morning I woke up super early and couldn't fall back asleep, and as I was in bed watching the early sunlight through my window, his poem "For Grace, After a Party" (which is probably my favorite poem and which I've posted here before) popped into my head. The opening line just kept running through my head, over and over: "You do not always know what I am feeling. You do not always know what I am feeling. You do not always know what I am feeling."

mrrrrr

more gimme gimmes

This necklace from vadjutka is soooo pretty. There are other autumn-y ones I love too but this one is super twee.

eek!

Someone employ me quickly so I can buy the hell out of these dresses from Built By Wendy's fall collection:

I could never actually afford them, but the Internet is like my special fantasy land where I'm allowed to look at dresses like these and dream. And I'm always impeccably dressed and coiffed and sitting on some velvet sofa in France playing the violin, instead of reality, where I'm contemplating Taco Bell and haven't done laundry since I got back from California. Whoops. Domesticity Fail.

heart california heart dogs

I have hundreds maybe thousands maybe zillions of photos from this summer and I'm soooo lazy that I can't even post them on my entirely defunct flickr account.

This weekend is the festival in Pagosa, which is always my end-of-summer marker. Strange. Flying into LAX earlier this week I saw the giant smoke cloud from the wildfires out there. It looked like a big piece of cauliflower hanging over the city. Amber moved to Portland, which is horribly sadface.

Missing many people at the moment. The kind of missing that hurts. Telepathic hugs and kisses to all.

where do you move when where you're moving from is yourself?

So I'm currently in San Diego and it's lovely here and all I do is take naps on the beach and play with Lola, who is the cutest dog EVAR and looks like a Fraggle, and read and swim. And I have no money and no idea what to do next.

Some Santa Fe pics:

wanted: new snuggle buddy

Lonely. Socked-in by clouds of malaise and morose. In need of some serious spooning. Here are my top two candidates:

{socktopus}

{spock monkey}

If anyone would like to buy these for me, I would not object. That is all.

santa fe, as sung by christian bale

Hey there folks. Sorry for the hiatus. In the months-ish since I last posted, a lot has happened. I moved to Santa Fe for grad school. Cue the song from Newsies:

It's absolutely beautiful here. I took this photo from campus with my PHONE. Phones have cameras now, fyi. I'm slowly falling into a rhythm here — a rhythm that, unsurprisingly, consists of more tequila drinking and less school work then I'd like to admit. But I'm learning, I swear. Jack Kelly dreams (and sings) so longingly about Santa Fe for good reason. I love it here. I got stung by a wasp. I saved a mousie trapped in the library. Oh yeah! And David Sedaris came here! He talked about breast milk and distributing condoms to teenagers and buying olive oil and strawberries at Costco with his brother-in-law. He seemed tired, like all the traveling and speaking was wearing him down. But he was still funny as hell. When it was our turn to get our books signed, one of my friends asked him, "so this is the next book in the Twilight series, right?" I think Sedaris thought that was pretty funny.

But I miss my cool Colorado cats. Everyone is scattering. K8's in California. Dennis, Gretchen and Piedra are in Oklahoma. Drew is in Tajikistan (which he assures me is, in fact, a real country). Amber is leaving for Portland. My heart is tugged in so many directions.

Come visit me. Send me your address and I'll write you a letter. Or I'll send you a tape of me singing "Santa Fe." Or better yet, "Sieze the Day!"

Love,

SOS

squeeee

This came in the mail today:

My darling Emmalynn bought it for me for my birthday. It's sitting on my windowsill. The lilacs are in full bloom in my yard. It's May! Happy happy.

birdday wish list

I totally have my birdday outfit all planned out for tomorrow, replete with springy colors:

{dress from Joules}

{cardigan from marc jacobs}

{shoes from MaraisUSA}

Perfect, right? I'm all set for my birthday! Of course, I don't actually *own* any of these things. Nor can I afford them. Le sigh. I wish I were one of those people with "money." Miss you, money. Hope you're enjoying your new home, wherever that may be. My grandpa gave me some money this weekend, but I immediately spent it on Polaroid film on Ebay. And my mum said she'd put some money towards the purchase of a cheapo Diana or Holga, because I want one for the summer. So I guess I know where your new home is, money. Your new home is on Ebay. I hope Ebay is treating you well, money.

may is my very favorite month

{July 1958. My father is in the middle}

PHOENIX FREEZE TAG

When the red mountains rise

over the sun and dry air fills 

with stars, the white specters

spread out on the sidewalk

while we cactus kids chase.

Our feet crunch grass and laughter soaks

in the hot cotton air. We spin and dodge

together in the dark, but always

slow down, always let someone tag us,

freeze us. Everything but our hearts 

and breath stop, and we think of how

desert and ocean are then same,

cactus kids floating in both.

Boo, Forever

{photo}

BOO, FOREVER

Richard Brautigan

Spinning like a ghost

on the bottom of a 

top,

I'm haunted by all

the space that I

will live without 

you.

OURHYPE/Eye Spit

Bonjour, mes amis. Just so you know, I'm going to be contributing to this wonderful new bloggie, OURHYPE. Le blog 'twas beautifully brewed up by the ever-talented Gabe and Will. Go check it out. 

Now, what does this mean for the fate of this lil' bloggie, you ask? Not much. I'm still going to post about books and dogs and embroidery and needlefelting bunnies over here, but will also be posting about other things at OH. So if my silence seems longer than usual, this is most likely because I'm in more of a digital-as-in-music-and-design state of mind, rather than

 digital-as-in-using-your-fingers-to-embroider-constellations. So you can find me there.

Also, if you'd like to contribute, or have any ideas for posts, lemme know (sarah@ourhype.com). I believe Nichole and I are the only girls at the moment, and we can always use more ladies. Ladies!

In other news, Eye Spit has been on hiatus for a while, due to the fact that Drew has a real job, and we're both going to be out of town for the next couple of Fridays. Also, we don't have a web site yet. But we will! And we'll be cooking up ideas for the future of Denver's Worst Photographic Society. Again, lemme know your ideas. More in the future. Love love.

boo winter

{photo}

Go away, snow.

However, the Bonnie "Prince" Billy show is tonight in Denver, and this weather feels kind of appropriate. You know, wearing long underwear and such. It's right up Will Oldham's alley. Also, all this wintry nonsense  really puts me in the mood to watch Let the Right One In again.

UPDATE: Erm, BPB took off his pants and played in his long johns. I tots called that one!

heh heh

snow day

Woke up Thursday morning to find that our beautiful spring weather had been completely whisked away overnight. I spent the day shoveling and playing with the pup outside. I love this polaroid of her; the snow looks purple next to the white background. I went to a wine tasting at Burnt Toast with Sara and Dave and Yambear, then came home and crafted! Snowy days are the best for crafting.

{note the beautiful pup on the bed. also, my room is a mess, please 'scuse}

I sewed all of my vintage handkerchiefs along a ribbon to make a garland. It felt like a springtimey thing to do, like a May Day craft or something. Like, if I made an homage to spring, it would come back. I know Colorado needs all the moisture we can get (and according to the weather, it's supposed to snow again tomorrow). But I want springtime! I'm ready to start my flower garden. I'm ready to wear dresses w/0 tights. I'm ready to get some new freckles. Come back, spring!

foulmouthed flower of bohemia

{photo} 

"As they made their way up through the increasing gloom, Joe seemed to steer only according to the light shed by the action of her palm against his wrist, by the low steady flow of voltage through the conducting medium of their sweat. He stumbled like a drunken man and laughed as she hurried him along. He was vaguely aware of the ache in his hand, but he ignored it. As they turned the landing to the top floor, a strand of her hair caught in the corner of his mouth, and for an instant he crunched it between his teeth.

She took him into a small room in the middle of the house, which curved queerly where it backed up against the central tower. In addition to her tiny, girlish white iron bed, a small dresser, and a nightstand, she had crowded in an easel, a photo enlarger, two bookcases, a drawing table, and a thousand and one other items piled atop one another, strewn about, and jammed together with remarkable industry and abandon. 

'This is your studio?' Joe said.

A smaller blush this time, at the tips of her ears.

'Also my bedroom,' she said. 'But I wasn't going to ask you to come up to that.'"

—Michael Chabon, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay

i wanna rub tires with you

{from cracked designs etsy}

Why has no one ever asked me to rub tires? I obviously don't have enough romance in my life.

Speaking of romance, or the lack thereof, the last episode of BSG made me cry and cry and cry. I was getting really worried because this year's episodes were sometimes overwritten and lame, but I really enjoyed the finale. No one got the happy ending I was hoping for. Frak. Poor Chief. Poor Adama. Lee and Kara didn't make out (because Kara is...an angel? That was a bit of a stretch, but I'm willing to look past it). Frak frak frak it was sad. BUT! To paraphrase a message I sent to Drew way back in June, "I hope the Chief finds out that Tory killed Callie, rips Tory's head off, then grabs Boomer from creepy Cavil's clutches and makes out with her. In fact, that's exactly what I want the final scene of the series to be." I didn't *quite* get my wish, but it was still satisfying. 

Also, I'm glad only like two people read this blog, because this post is nerds to the max.

FINALLY

When I lived in Ontario, I showered every day with citronella shampoo and body wash. I literally bathed in it. Sometimes I even wore those embarrassing mosquito net shirts/pants under my clothes. But nothing, NOTHING kept those bastards off of me. 

SUCK IT, MOSQUITOES! 

bon dimanche!

Hi folks. Today was a beautiful halcyon Sunday day. Yambear and I took the bus down to Den-bear to visit the zine library and whatnot. We got coffee at Paris on the Platte and I ordered a drink that had not one, not two, but FOUR layers of deliciousness. Scott and I ordered the exact same sandwich, which also had multiple layers of yum. Then Yambear, Scott, Dennis and I sat in the park and watched happy people and puppies, and I rolled down an hill and got covered in dead grass. I looked like a hay bale. Then Yambear and I went to City O' City, and got the most amazing pizza I've ever had. Apricot sauce, green olives, tarragon and cashew ricotta, PLUS a vegan sweet potato cinnamon roll for dessert. Holy cow.

Also, in case you were wondering, this is what Drew would look like if he were an alien ghost with glowing headphones:

It was a nice day.

I feel like this

Hey, I'm alive. Just in case you were wondering, since I haven't posted in so long. No time for updates at the moment, as I am a sleepykitteh (whouldathunk I'd ever get back on to a normal sleep schedule, right? Am not a vampire anymore), but I am going to start posting regularly again. 

Besos,

S

Sarah: Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water...

Yambear is making a zine, and over the past couple of weeks we've been trying to come up with a tagline for her. Also, because I bugged Amber till she said yes, I might be contributing to the zine, perhaps with an advice column à la Nicole Georges (because I am a font of wisdom, maturity, and responsibility). So I selfishly want a tagline too. I feel very strongly that if I have a kickass tagline I will be able to paint the tabula rasa of this year all kinds of crazy cool. Yambear and I discussed it, but nothing has really stuck. "Sarah: maybe a vampire?" and "Sarah: hates your eyebrows" were mentioned, but they're both a bit too hostile for my tastes.

Sarah: In space no one can hear you scream.

Sarah: Love means never having to say you're sorry.

Sarah: The truth is out there.

But for reals, people. Any suggestions? I need outside advice. I enjoy Luke's at TBTL: "Luke Burbank never met a Band of Horses song, soft taco, or poker game he didn't want to be a part of." I think if I were to appropriate this for myself, it would be "Sarah never met a Wolf Parade off-shoot band, green chile tamale, or outdated board game she didn't want to be a part of." Except maybe replace "outdated board game" with "MMORPG." Just kidding! But I would feel bad just brazenly stealing someone else's tagline. I'm over my plagiarism phase. That's so 2006 (sorry Trinie Dalton and Shelley Jackson! I mimicked the hell out of you).

Also, I've been thinking: If I had to live inside an album cover from 2008, which one would I pick? I mean actually live there, like if I was somehow zapped and transported into the artwork. Like when cartoon characters turn a corner and find themselves in Dalí's The Persistence of Memory and freak out. I think I would live in M83's Saturdays = Youth, just because the light is so nice and the teenagers so willowy, and then I could borrow those skeleton pajamas and the wolf hat and talk about records with that Molly Ringwald clone. Or maybe David Byrne and Brian Eno's Everything That Happens Will Happen Today because holy cow it's The Sims! Living in this album cover may be a blinding pixelated hell, or it may be awesome. I'm predisposed to think it'd be awesome. Or maybe I'd just hang out in the Fleet Foxes cover because, you know, I wouldn't get bored. And I'd be medieval.

2K9

My first day of 2009:

Woke up really sweaty. Why was I so sweaty? Eew.

Got breakfast with Drew. We drove around Boulder with no real destination and listened to Portuguese music and I'm pretty sure I saw a parrot sitting on a telephone wire. We agreed this was an auspicious sighting. 

Watched The Office (the British one) and fell asleep on the couch for two hours. I awoke to Ricky Gervais playing the guitar and singing "free love on the free love freeway." I love that man to the ends of the earth.

Talked to Amber on the phone for a really long time. She got kicked out of a dive bar in Marquette last night because her friend brought in his own beer. Apparently this is unacceptable? 

Took a shower and discovered I have a big bruise on my arm from one of Drew's Vulcan nerve pinches, which were being bandied about last night as freely as the sexual harassment and the champagne.

Went to the bookstore. Whoops! How do I always end up here?

Talked to Gabe on the phone. Plans plans plans! Also, his dad is trying to set him up with a 19-year-old. To this I replied, "Well 19 ain't 17," and realized that maybe my morals are slipping.

Got burritos with Emmy and Heather and then snuck them into the movie theatre. I got so much rice in my hair and my scarf trying to stealthily eat that burrito in the dark. We saw Milk. I cried and cried and cried. I love seeing movies with Emmy, because whenever there's a really amazing shot (of which there are many in Milk), we just look at each other and do this kind of excited thumbs-up thing. We also did that whenever James Franco was onscreen. Also, I covet the glasses Emile Hirsch wears in the movie. Go see it.

Invented some new emoticons via text with Sara. For example, :| (passive aggressive) and :{ (mustache).

Spent way too much time here looking for fabrics for my next project. 

Ate some chocolate mousse and watched Wristcutters. Fawned over Patrick Fugit.

Finished Gob's Grief.

Aaaaand...that brings us to now. Et voila, the first day of 2009. I did not make any resolutions (except for these). I've never really bought into the blank slate thing. Carte blanche my ass. However, I am excited for this year. Crafting and writing and Tim and Eric and road trip and Eye Spit: Denver's Worst Photographic Society and moving and MOVING and May and music and books and friends. Yes, please.