I wake up consistently marveled and anxious about the number of projects I have going on right now. Unlike working at the agency, however, I have time to pat myself on the back for a project well-done. As I was able to today. Though I wouldn't exactly call brunch, a bottle of champagne, and a Ciao Vito $4 plate of marinara with my friend, Dawn, a pat on the back exactly. More of a series of pats all over my belly - a belly RUB if you will...
Today, after weeks of hard manly-handy work, I finished the acoustic project in CW's studio. I drilled, wood-glued, and anchored my way to a better sonic landscape in the studio (nothing but the best for my boyfriend's comically-small-yet-well-honed ears). I realized I am excellent at covering square things in fabric (much like wrapping Christmas presents) and am exceedingly satisfied using the staple gun to hold said fabric in place. It's a very empowering tool. What's more empowering is suspending said panels from the ceiling (albeit rather imperfectly) and realizing that they will, in fact, stay on the ceiling despite gravity and my inexperience at defying gravity (my childhood was laden with injuries pertaining to my battle with gravity). I did discover that whilst drilling into the ceiling, one must wear protective eye-wear, a turtleneck, and rule of all rules, please keep your mouth closed while crap is falling from the sky. I lamented to Dawn that it's taken me 25 years to discover that I might be a mouth-breather (at least while using tools). There was so much sediment falling into my bra that I dubbed myself, "Gravel Tits." I laughed because if you were to encounter someone who had such a nickname, you might wonder "how in the hell did they get a name like that..." and I realized that today was such an occasion. From now on, it's Gravel Tits, or GT for short.
At any rate, it was satisfying to finish this project and have the privilege of invoicing my boyfriend. Dawn and I took pictures of ourselves using the self-timer on my camera (another thing I learned how to do today). I will post them when I get them developed so we can all marvel at Dawn's tiny hands in the big work gloves. I've gotten so used to seeing my own hands in those gloves that I sort of assumed it was normal. Until I saw Dawn wear them. Then I realized that I either have behemoth hands or Dawn is a shrimp. Both, likely, are true.
Today begins my week of new projects. Musicfest NW is upon me and I am trying not to stress at that workload. I feel like if I can make it through to Sunday without a heart attack, it will be a week well done. I also will be covering shifts at my friends' store, OFFICE, while they're out of town (link to the right) while watching their cat, Black, watching their house, and being the Project Manager for an event happening in October. When I got my to-do list, I almost had a heart attack (narrowly making this week a little more difficult than it needs to be).
So, friends, I hope you all are keeping busy and productive and if anyone hears of a college kid interested in being a life intern a là Kramer, please let me know. I could use an extra body...
Richard Swift tour photos coming soon. One of my photos of The Hugs got posted on the 1965 Records website (www.1965records.com), though the resolution is for crap because they tried to make my small photo bigger. When will people understand that you can't ADD information in Photoshop, you can only take it away? Ugh. LIFE INTERN, get me 1965 Records on the phone. And bring me a latte! Goddamn, good for nothing...
- Gravel Tits
Sunday, September 2, 2007
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Dear Gravel Tits (GT),
Did (read: do) you also find that air is just as cumbersome as a handful of rocks? I,too, blame imaginary boulders and marbles for my klutzery (read: falling down all the time). I should walk around with orange cones.
Glad you're keeping busy!!
:o)
Don't even get me started on air or imaginary boulders. This could take all day. Also, body parts. Did I tell you that in 6th grade I put myself on crutches for 3 days because I was slow-motion running and I tripped over my own ankle? Slow-motion. Not even regular running...
Man, beware of nicknames as they WILL stick. I had a kid come in on the first day of class last monday wearing both hat and t-shirt covered in 2-tone checkers and carrying a knapsack done up in the same. What else are you going to call this guy? He had the misfortune of being the first person to come in late on the first day, so of course I singled him out and said, "You're late, Checkers. Grab a course outline and take a seat." Now neither I nor anyone else in that class will ever call him by his given name again. I can't even remember it.
So consider yourself warned! However, I simply think of you as "Portland," even though i know other people from Portland. I tend to see them around, but you're still there, so I see you as an emissary of the Pacific Northwest. Thus when I turn down Portland street on my way to work, I think daily to myself, "It's the street named after GT!" (I don't wear headphones while I'm riding my bike, so I inevitably run out of sensible things to think about)
Also, I'm fully intent on getting the 2nd draft in the mail for you to read, but I need to copy it first which is a big job and I've been beside myself with stuff to do lately related to being a goddamned teacher (fuck, fuck, fuck). It's basically on the way, but it might take a few more days or weeks. When do you leave on tour?
Ahhh, J.B. - always good to hear from you! I will gladly be your emissary to the Pacific Northwest. I'm sure it's a big job, but I think I can handle it. I leave for Berlin on 9/27 so if you can mail it before that, I'll be stoked to have something to do on the plane. I can't wait to read it!
My regards to Checkers...
-GT
Hey Man Hands --
Who are you calling "Shrimp"?? I prefer to think of myself as petite.
I do have a theory on your status as a mouth breather, however. I think that we, as women, may possibly approach using power tools in the same way as applying mascara. Mouth breathing = No blinking. No blinking = Straight drilling. Sadly, this also results in getting gravel in your eyes as well as your mouth & bra.
Happy to hold your hammer anytime,
Mini me
Mini-Me,
You are a genius. I bet that's exactly why I had my mouth open! Or it was in awe at seeing the drill hanging from the ceiling when my arms needed a rest. Either one works for me!
You're the best assistant ever!
XO.
R
Can I just say that I don't normally open my mouth when I put on mascara. Does this make me a weirdo?
Dianna, you aren't weird. You're a painter who has very stable hands. Actually, I think by definition that makes you a weirdo. Nevermind.
R
Wow, slow-motion running. I bow to your apparent lack of coordination.
Remind me to tell you, in great detail, how many times I sprained my ankles and knees, simply by doing a cartwheel (stupidly, on a hill) or skipping to the Four-Square area of the playground.
I blame the thick, dusty air in Southern Idaho and the abundance of rednecks. They clog the pores, the imagination, and the airspace. It makes it harder to navigate.
I will surely have some form of arthritis in my ankles as an old lady. We'll have to soak our ankles in Epsom salt and Ben-gay when we get older.
Sad.
What is even more sad is that I contemplated doing that to my wrists/thumbs last week after my acoustic project... Oi vey.
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