The king is the king.
Not to be confused with "selfie." Drawn with thumbs.
Sterling, steel, glass, quartz, and those grey tassels I brought back from Barcelona. Anthro-inspired, APU.
Lalalalaa. Playing around with brooding lyrics and and hopeful melodies.
It'll be a while before I release a cookbook. 'Til then, a few private cookie copies...
Been playing a lot lately, maybe compensating for the lack of piano. One of many reasons I should visit Aboo more often.
Odd to firmly say, "I'm a young man after all." I like the effect of the switch anyway.
My solo choice for our improbable Holiday EP.
I feel quite Brooklyn playing the ukulele.
Let's make credit cards that are wands.
When you wish upon a star,
I wanna tell you--
Tell you that I just can't speak.
I would sacrifice anything come what might
For the sake of having you near
When picking apples in late September,
Like we've done for years.
1, 2, 3, you're falling in love with me,
I'm falling into your life faster than
1, 2, 3, I love you, yes it's true,
You stole my heart and
I was enchanted to meet you.
Whenever I see your smiling face,
I have to smile myself
You've got me going crazy,
Knocked me off my feet
I was enchanted to meet you, too.
But,
I'll tell you one thing:
It's always better when we're together
And nothing can keep me from loving you
And you know it's true
So just let go
And fall
Into
It
when you forget to shake the ketchup and that gross juice comes out all over your food instead of ketchup
when you push the wrong side of an ambiguously-hinged door
when the faucet is not centered so your hands touch the back of the sink-bowl
when all of the automated sinks dispense only hot water and it's hot out
when it doesn't rip along the perforation
when there are only wall-mounted driers so you're forced to turn the handle without a paper-towel buffer
when a lock is set opposite to the intuitive 'locking' direction
when you have to use the bad hotel soap
when there are paper straws
when someone microwaves that with plastic wrap on it
She wore candy necklaces all the time when she was a kid: sticky, dye-tinted spit all over her neck. Glorious.
And now that she's 22, totally inappropriate.
I wondered what a candy necklace would be like for 'grown-ups'...
Resin-coated jaw breakers: pronged to 13 brass settings, knit with red waxed linen.
This got me started on Playtime is Over.
Combinations from this list sound like sequel proposals to the HP universe.
Winning Title: A Coil of Widgeon and the Implausibility of Gnus
I'm thirteen, but when I was nine, Mom said that we weren't allowed to drink milk anymore. She told us, "it's bad for you." And that was kind of it.
Except, I like milk. And so does Dad. And my little sister. And my friends. Actually, a lot of people I know at school drink it and stuff.
When I asked Mom what's bad for you about it, she said, "it gets you sick.”
Actually, it's kind of weird: even though we're not supposed to have it in the house, there's still a carton in the downstairs fridge for Dad. Mom definitely knows it's there. Sometimes they fight about it. And when Mom's not around, Dad puts some over his cereal and even lets us have some on ours too, like it's some special treat. Plus, if I'm at a friend's house, I usually have to explain everything. I'm never really sure if it's okay to have any or not, or if somebody will tell on me if I have some. But none of us have ever gotten sick from it. It's really confusing.
It's just, I know that if Mom sees us having any at all that we'll get in trouble. Each time we get caught or she thinks something is up, she gets really really upset about it. She doesn't get why we drink it sometimes after she tells us not to. So pretty much I try not to have milk unless I know for sure she won't see. She just gets so sad. And also usually ends up blaming Dad. And I wonder...
This morning, I was with my babysitter and she made me some chocolate milk. But Mom came home early and I pretty much had to throw my glass into the sink so she wouldn't see.
Because, on one hand, Mom said no.
But on the other hand, it's just milk, right?
Belated sharing of my pieces from my metals final.
Hammered brass, copper electroplating, and dark grey liver of sulfur detail.
Bone copper and confetti with spray adhesive.
Brushed and tumbled sterling silver [version 2.0 from last year's].
Rule 22: unique bouquets of maize and blue flowers.
I'm a baker who doesn't know how to make pie. I mean, just look.
Alright, I can do a filling. But a crust? Why is it so impossible to achieve Peak Crust? And what kind of a baker can't serve both the world's Cake People and Pie People? Until practice makes perfect, I'm living a lie.