my heroes have always been cowboys

this post is dedicated to the cowboys who moseyed their way into my life, out of my life, and are still somewhere in between. and then there's that cowboy who gave me life, too.

old man's birthday part II

Met my dad for lunch at The Tides, and he spontaneously decides that he'd like to celebrate his birthday again, though we'd already birthday lunched on his actual birthday earlier this month. No problem, boss. I sing on cue for M&M cake anytime.





























Whipping cream, sugar, and vanilla into frosting with an old fashioned beater. It's not vintage kitsch that he's after, my dad just prefers not to upgrade his belongings if they still work.



















Also "noodled around" on his new keyboard. Like his belongings, my dad is also fond of holding on to his old sayings. But since today was his "birthday again", I indulged him on his "yowzas" "gozzits" and "noodlings" without rolling my eyes too much (when they were open). Played a little strat to wrap up the afternoon and finally tried out the new amp that he's been talking about. You know, my old man can be cool to hang with. Fun day.

inked

I was just thinking the other day, digging around for a color pencil set in my room, that the pens and pencils that I've amassed over the years are actually tokens from various stages in my life. For some people it's record albums and CD covers, or movie posters. But for me, I guess it's the medium of writing utensils, literally, that chronicles my coming of age.

I collected them for a while when I was younger - in the days when pencils, along with pencil sharpeners and erasers, were actually used. I don't know, do kids use pencils these days? Can they even write anymore? Penmanship is a dying art. Each one of these pens and pencils triggers a memory of some point in my life. Some collections are valuable to other people, but I think this one is just for me. If this house ever burns down, at least I'll have recorded a memory of them here.




Starting with back row, upright pencils inside pencil holder (L to R):
-Princeton Review pencil: For taking these classes, I should have had higher SATs.
-Pacific Science Center 4-color pencil: One of my favorite places to go on the weekends between age 6-10. Part of the fun is you never which color you'll be writing with next, but I always tried to control the situation and spent too much time deciding which color/angle I would use for "a" and "e" etc. Frustrating.
-"Save Me" Whale pencil: Def morbid. I can almost hear the little whale squeaking its motto, "Save Me." I got this sometime during the days when whales were closer to extinction. "Save Me" is too direct a message, not ironic enough for our times. I don't think they would re-produce this pencil today.
-"Ham It Up" Pig pencil: It looks like I got this at the same time as the whale pencil. I probably didn't get the joke back then and just bought it because a.) it's pink, which was my favorite color, and b.) I probably thought the pig and pearl necklace was pretty.
-Wellesley College pencil: I think this came with one of my welcome folders. I wouldn't have bought a pencil by then.
-Bunch of pencils from stationary stores in Japan: There was a period when my Japanese relatives would send me pencil and letter paper gift packet. I didn't get the hint that they wanted me to write. I just thought they liked giving me presents.

Middle of picture, on top of pencil holer (back to front):
-Bischofberger Violin pencil: I must have stolen this at some point when I took my cello or bow in for repairs, bought rosin etc. The smell of antique wood, varnish, and rosin dust. Stained glass windows. The violin maker with a mustache wearing an apron.
-Cardinals pencil: It's well used, not because I liked it but because I didn't like it as much as my other special pencils, which I wanted to last a long time. Funny that this is the one that ended up lasting. I think it wrote well, too. And I didn't care about football then, or now. Cardinals is football, right?
-Pentech "Sizzler" irridescent pink pencil: The logo printed on the pencil has a copyright dated 1988. Like I said, I loved pink. Love, loved, loved it when I was 8 because my aunt and I watched Steal Magnolias together as we ate Easter colored M&Ms from a crystal bowl, and there was a line in the movie when Shelby says, "Pink is my signature cu-luh".
-University Bookstore pencil: My favorite bookstore when I was growing up. Purple and yellow still makes me think "Huskies" whenever I see that color combination and, therefore, I will never wear those two colors together.
-One of those pencils with a throw-away plastic/graphite tip at the end and refill tips that are stacked inside the body of the pencil. Better picture above.
-Pink personalized pencil: My aunt bought me about 100 of these from a mail-order company once for my birthday. The lead always broke, so I still have about 95 of them left in my desk drawer.

Right side, on top of inkwell (L to R):
-Burgundy Montblanc fountain pen: Graduation present from my dad. It was my first fountain pen, just like my dad's. A big deal then. Also came along with the ink, which dried up before I used much of it.
-Brown roller-point pen: Our sweet and cute, but frustratingly dumb, Beagle chewed up this pen once when she was bored. That dog...brings back so many mixed feelings.


Foreground (back to front):
-Black marker pen: From kindergarten in Japan. We all had matching pen sets that our mom's labeled with our names. I suppose it's the same principal as uniforms, so you don't feel left out because someone else brought snazzier pens to school.
-Pink splatter painted Bic pen: Bartells, 2 weeks before 5th grade, jelly shoes, pink cotton tank top and shorts, butterflies in my stomach. These made me feel so cool and ready for school.
-Green Totoro mechanical pencil: Not really my favorite pencil at the time, but definitely one of my all-time favorite movies. Totoro!
-poseur mechanical pencil: You know, one of those looks-like-a-pencil but it's actually a mechanical pencil that you can never refill. There was a time when these were so new and cool because you didn't have to sharpen them and you didn't have to do the tedious refill thing - you just threw it away and used a new one when it ran out.
-Magic Ink yellow felt-tipped pen: Japan's equivalent to the Sharpie, the Magic Ink pen. This pen came with my mom and I from Japan when we moved here in the mid 80's.


Oh, and I almost forgot the leather Tweety bird pencil case and 70's navy mechanical pencil that has a faded "Whitey" logo on it. "Whitey" as in "Writey"? I have a suspicion that the Japanese manufacturer meant to say "Writey" but messed up the pronunciation and it all resulted in a pen called "Whitey." Sounds like a possible Engrish error. These items predate me as they belonged to my Mom when she was in her twenties. I wonder what she was thinking during this time in her life.

the moss of me: story of a mossy muse.

I love moss. Fresh, green, dirt and rain-scented moss. I missed my Northwest moss when I lived in a dry, arid climate down south. And with the coming of Spring, and Spring showers, I see electric green carpets of newborn moss sprouting up on rocks, trees, sidewalks, fences, and even traffic poles everywhere I go.







































And sometimes, it comes with a friend:



































When moss gets old and its days are numbered, it turns a muted gray-green and exists in this state only a little while longer before it takes its last breaths, shrivels up, and disintegrates into earth. The end.

2 Lexington Ave

Gramercy Park Hotel. I happened upon the documentary, Hotel Gramercy Park, on the Sundance channel the other day, and it got me interested in seeing the legendary hotel while I'm in NYC? The film takes place during the transition fromtraces the history of the hotel , and all of the glamorous, and infamous, guests who have stayed there, lived there, and gotten high there through the decades. The central character in the film is the grandson of the previous owner of the hotel, who returns to pack up his belongings and, often, intense memories of growing up in the Gramercy before it's turned over to the new owner, developer Ian Schrager.














The hotel is located across the street from Gramercy Park, which is the only private, gated park in Manhattan. As I looked through the iron bars into the garden, I kept thinking back to the part in the documentary when someone comments on how elitist - in a British, birth-right way - the area surrounding the park still is today. I noticed how quiet it was on this block, so surprisingly still and austere compared to the commotion on 5th ave just a couple blocks away.
















Since it was raining today, I decided against tromping into the frou-frou lobby in my drenched state of squeaking rainboots, dripping hair, and mascara streaks down my face. But I got some shots from the outside, and the GPH site gave me a starting place for imagining the uncomfortableness that is the remodeled modern medieval interior.

Hotel Gramercy Park, directed by Douglas Keeve.

NYC

View from the top

This is the view that I've been living with for the last week. The flowers are what remain of the V-day bouquet. Life sucks...big time... sike ;)