‘California Tuffy’ by Geraldine Fibbers is my new jam.
selfie à la Weegee
1972-ish. Paul was holding me in his lap, sitting in the passenger seat of the family station wagon. He was maybe 13, I was 1. Mom was driving. It was the hill past Mile-a-Minute in Westchester — about 4 blocks from our house. As we came up the rise, there was a car heading toward us on our side of the road. So: nasty head-on. In that accident, mom hurt her right knee and got a scar on her chin. Paul’s head snapped down, his teeth (clad in braces at the time, which probably saved them) connecting with my skull, leaving a large, crescent-shaped scar. But his managing to hold onto me (in the days before baby seats), the possibility that his chomp on my head maybe saved my life… A grisly and loving and interesting tale, I think.
Escape From Tomorrow was filmed entirely in secret inside Disney parks: the actors kept their scripts quietly on smart phones and shot everything with hand held cameras. Disney’s been mum about the whole thing, likely because they know that acknowledging the production in any way, especially since they’ve gotten all the footage they need already, would have no effect other than to increase its profile. While this could very well be a case of a movie that doesn’t stand well as a whole piece outside of the context in which it was made, it’s still a pretty interesting, and ballsy, feat of filmmaking.
"Watching the Wheels" karaoke (by gnrsgl)
This is so charming. Spinning used to be such fun.
"Radio Radio" - Elvis Costello and the Attractions
Note to self: Every so often, you need to rewatch early Elvis.
I have a small bag of birch bark that I’d peeled from neighborhood trees throughout the fall. It’s been sitting in my home for almost a year. I’d gotten it to make Christmas cards. Collage. The snow bits. Or maybe cut to resemble small birches.
Anyway, I keep seeing birch art, and all I can think about anymore is that the artists are killing what they love and I can’t bring myself to use the fucking stuff. So, if anyone wants some birch bark (much smaller pieces than this) please message me. I won’t judge you. Well, honestly, a little. As much as I judge myself.