WoolGatherer

Disaster, recovery

For some idiot reason, I thought I could get away with just binding off my toe up sock in pattern instead of using some looser bind-off. Horror. I couldn't even get the finished sock halfway down my foot. Great, because that's how I like three weeks' work to end up

I actually resorted to CUTTING off the top inch of the sock and unraveling back three more inches until I got to a spot I understood. Here's a pic of things at their nadir. I was very nearly in tears.

An hour later, though I had lost a day's work on the cuff, I was back in control and feeling far less suicidal.

 

Yes, I'm bummed that I was a moron and didn't use a looser bind-off, but i'l also proud of myself for problem solving. For a time, it sure seemed like the sock woud end up in the trash.

More pics once the pair is done...

Going toes-up

For the past few weeks I've been taking a toe-up sock class with my pal Jay. I'm working on two socks at once to avoid the dreaded Second Sock Syndrome. Both socks are knit as far as the heels, which are half finished.

 
 

(No, I'm no the kind of knitter who makes sure he starts his socks at the same point int he colorway to make sure the socks are identical. You'd think I would be, but I'm not. Huh.)

So far, I'm not enjoying toe-up construction in practice, even though I love it in principle. We're doing short row toes and heels, with wraps, and those damn "purl 3 together through the back loop" totally suck. I took ten tries to get the toe on the left to turn out.

I've got a set of new things to try on the next pair. (Ditching the wrapped stitches is high on the list.) I'm not touching these again until class next week, because I don't want to eff up the heels. (I already had one disaster this morning, but I ripped back and things appear to be okay now.) Once both heels are done, the rest will be cake.

I'm also told that self-striping sock yarn is now out of fashion. Why doesn't anyone tell me these things??

To fill my time until next week's class, I've started a pair of my trusty Fargo Felted Mittens. (It's a nice change of pace to be working with worsted weight yarn on size tens! All this work on size zeros is giving me eye strain.)

Here's the mitt, all of which I've done today. (Sorry, the colors of the yarn and the couch don't really agree with each other. The recipient of the mittens requested purple, and purple she'll get.)

 

That's the latest in my rock-star life. More anon...

Eye candy

Rub-a-dub-dub, here's a hunk in a tub...

A Hump-Day treat

Somewhere, Superman is flying around in just a cape and a blue body-stocking. I bet he feels silly without his snug red trunks.

PS. You knew I couldn't deprive you of eye-candy indefinitely, right?

And now for something completely FUNKY

Your little pal WG had quite the night Saturday.

Oh yes indeed he did.

For three hours I stood not more than thirty feet from the stage at Paisley Park as Prince put on a truly stupendous display of guitar genius and breathtaking showmanship. He literally didn't set his guitar down all night--unless it was to change to a different one for another soaring, seemingly effortless solo.

Over the course of three hours, the crowd of several hundred was treated to countless gems from Prince's vast back catalog. Even the venerable 1999, ostensibly retired ten years ago, got the full treatment, right down to the "Mommy, why does everybody have a bomb?" line. I was delirious. (Pun intended.)

There were covers aplenty, too, including the rather touching inclusion of Dancin' Machine and Shake your Body Down to the Ground, by the Jacksons. Prince never explicitly addressed Michael Jackson's death, but in all the times I've seen the purple one in concert since the '80s, this was the first-ever Jackson cover I'd heard. It was a clear tip of the hat to a departed peer.

In the last hour of the show, Prince burned a swath through numerous tunes he'd written for his proteges over the years, including Sheila E's The Glamorous Life, as well as The Time's big hits, Cool, The Bird, and Jungle Love ("I've been waiting to bust this one out all night," he announced with glee. "I wrote 'em all, I might as well play 'em!"

It was hard to keep count, but Prince played close to forty songs. My feet were killing me by the end of the night. (Speaking of feet--Prince wasn't wearing his trademark high heels, opting instead for somewhat more restrained platform flats(!)--with blinking LED lights in the heels.)

Some highlights of the night:

• Controversy, played all the way through from start to finish, including the "People call me rude, I wish were all were nude" chant.
• Anotherloverholeinyohead, played 1.5 times (He stopped half way through the first time and declared "I love this song so much, I need another guitar to solo on. We're startin' over."
• Kiss, somehow--impossibly--reworked to make it even funkier than I've ever heard it before--"Yup, it's remixed. I'm so funky I can't even sleep with myself!"
• Forever in my Life (one of two times when I cried. Yes, I'm a big emotional girly-man, and some of these songs really pushed buttons.)
• Sometimes it Snows in April (the other time I cried)
• Mountains (with Prince singing the horn parts, since there was no horn section)
  
• Let's Work, tight and fierce as never before
  
• Uptown (very old school, and delightfully unexpected)

And one to grow on...

• The hot 20 year old guy in front of me who gyrated his pert bum into my crotch for a good 90 minutes of the show. (It was very close quarters.) But, hey, if he didn't mind a bit of frotage, neither did I. Besides, his girlfriend got to dance on stage with Prince--the poor lad had to have someone to keep him company, right...?

It was, in short, the best concert I have ever attended, and easily one of the most memorable nights of my life.

Now I'm forever spoiled--no stadium performance will ever measure up to those three incredible hours at Paisley Park.

Not bad for $31.21 a ticket...

PS. No, I did not take the picture above. No cell phones were allowed into the building. This shot was taken at a show in Paris last week. But you get the idea.

A bit more from Santa Fe

As promised, here are a few more photos from our time in the mountains.

One of the nostalgic highlights of the trip for my dad and me was our visit to St. John's College, where he got his MA. I still remember it well from the summer I spent there when I was five years old.

Here is the dorm where my mom, dad, sister and I lived that summer of 1972. It really hasn't changed at all.

 

The windows of the second floor unit where we lived. We looked out over the mountains.

 

The koi pond outside the student center. Two-year-old brat Rhys Fitzpatrick pushed me into it while our parents were eating lunch. The pond seemed quite deep to me at the time. It isn't.

 

Darren chills outside the college bookstore. The wall looked just the same in 1972.

On Friday we drove further up into the mountains to spend the day in Taos. I snapped this pic on my iPhone from the moving car, but it still turned out pretty well.

 

The Taos Pueblo, where we strolled for an hour through the ancient community's adobe buildings

 

The cemetery at the edge of the Pueblo

Packs of dogs kept a close eye on the tourists. We gave them a wide berth.

 

Splashes of bright color dotted the community.

 

 

Native crafts and baked goods were available for sale throughout the Pueblo.

 

After leaving the Pueblo, we headed a few miles outside of Taos to visit the Rio Grand Gorge Bridge. It's a mighty big crack in the ground, 600 feet deep.

 

WG does his best to look nonchalant with a chasm yawning behind him...

 

A variety of vendors sell food and trinkets in the wide spot in the road on either side of the bridge.

 

Some offerings were less appealing than others...

 

A bright desert sky on the drive back to Santa Fe

 

Still to come, too much booze, up close and personal with Georgia O'Keeffe, and a few last odds and ends...

Back from the desert

I'm back from Santa Fe, and I'm tan. The four days Darren and I spent with my dad and Marijo really flew by. (Well the time in New Mexico did--the travel itself was rather arduous.)

We had perfect weather for the whole trip--bright sun and temps in the '70s. I'll be showing off pictures for a few posts. Hope you don't mind...

Our casita, perfectly situated a few blocks from the Plaza

 

Darren makes a friend (that's his JACKET he's holding in front of him, BTW...)

Strolling along the Plaza

 

 

The Palace of the Governors, where I spent $60 on a native-made copper bracelet that turned my wrist green and gave me a mild rash. I still like it, though.

 

St. Francis Cathedral

 

Two queens and a saint

 

Rustic.

 

Cowboy WG does some shoppin'

 

More soon,

Off to the desert...

Tomorrow Darren and I are flying off to Santa Fe, NM with my dad and Marijo for four days of relaxation in the crisp mountain air.

As I've mentioned here before, when I was five years old, I spent a summer there when my dad started a three-summer long MA program at St. John's University, shown here.

My dad hasn't been back since the mid-1970's, and I'm eager to see what he thinks of the city after all this time.

Darren and I enjoyed a lovely trip to Santa Fe six years ago, and I was amazed at how well I remembered the city from my time there as a child. I was even able to find the dorm where I lived back in the summer of 1972.

Here's a pic of me from back them. I haven't changed a bit, have I?

 

Expect plenty of pictures when I get back...

Yup.

Most amusing.

Not quite riding off into the sunset...

As I've written recently, I've been struggling for some time with a lack of motivation to keep blogging.

Just over three years ago, I was stuck in a mindless, dead-end job, so I started WoolGatherer as a creative outlet for sharpening my writing chops and regularly dumping the contents of my head.

Now that I've got an engaging but mentally draining job writing web content, at the end of the day, I just don't feel like coming home to do more blogging.

As much I appreciate the kind and witty comments my readers leave, keeping WoolGatherer going has become a chore--"Oh man, what will I write about today?"--and a source of guilt. Any writer knows the feeling that "I should be writing and I'm not."

Huh, that's sort of what it felt like when I was working on my dissertation, and we know how that turned out.

What to do?

I've seriously considered just pulling the plug, but after three years, WoolGatherer is an important part of my life, and it's also a fairly impressive archive of my thoughts and silly musings.

So I'm sticking around.

I'm sticking around because I realize that I still want a place to post pictures from my travels, show off my latest knitting triumphs, jot down my thoughts about books or films I've enjoyed, and connect with other bloggers and the readers who drop in to check me out. WoolGatherer has brought me new friends all over the country, and I hope to continue meeting cool people like Jimbo, Jesse, Mel, to name just a few.

I've decided to strike a compromise. I'll only post if I feel like it.

Simple.

That might mean weeks go by between posts. Or maybe I'll post three days in a row. We'll just have to see.

(Now, brace yourself...)

Because I don't want this space to become nothing but a collection of beefcake shots (that never show the best bits anyway), the sexy Sunday and Monday posts are being put out to pasture.

The boys and I had a good run, but we've reached the end of the road.

If you're feeling nostalgic, you can always always browse the Better than Coffee and Kneeling... archives to relieve thrills of days past.

Finally, even though I'll be spending less time hanging around WoolGatherer, I'm very active on Facebook (Sean Dilley) and Twitter (SeanWG). Feel free to Friend or follow. I'll be quick to reply.

Thanks for reading all this time, but keep an eye on your RSS feed. I can't stay quiet too long.

Your pal,

I've always wanted to explore the Sydney Opera House...

Hunk noir

Contemplating the sweater

I recently ordered this sweater pattern.

My intention, you see, is to knit a sweater much like that shown in the photo.

It remains to be seen if I will do anything of the sort.

First, after waiting over a week, I checked my order's status and found that the pattern is back ordered. Fudge. No ETA at this point.

Next, I'll have to find yarn that I enjoy knitting with and could also comfortably wear. Those two things rarely coincide. No way I'll be able to use the Galway yarn the pattern specifies. Nope. So wooly...

And finally I'll have to get over my fear of knitting things that actually require achieving proper gauge.

I have succeeded once before. I suppose I can do it again.

Right?

How about a little affection on a Monday morning?

Yes, this picture is on every queer blog in existence this week. So why not here, too?

The lamest party EVER

Wow, please count me out this pathetic shindig. It makes a Tupperware party look like a scene from Caligula.

I don't care how bad you want Windows 7 (which is not at all in my case), how fun could such a gathering really be?

Frankly, even though I know they're actors, these chortling goons terrify me.

MY EYES!!!

Do NOT watch this clip on a full stomach...

I thought there was nothing that could make me hate Tom Delay more that I already did. But I was wrong.

Abtastic...

Ah, Mr. Cohen. How we've missed you...

A night out with the Boys

Last night Darren and I (along with 90% of the homos in the Twin Cities) attended a very enjoyable Pet Shop Boys concert at the State Theater in Minneapolis. Darren had seen them perform on Halloween night a few years ago, but this was my first time at one of their shows.

I have to admit that I found the first few minutes of the concert to be underhwelming. Sure there was the initial "Oooh, cool, it's really them!" moment, and because we had amazing third row seats, we could see Neil Tenant extremely well. 

I'm just used to my pop stars (Prince, Madonna, even poor stoned George Michael) exuding a LOT more oomph in the performances.

Honestly, most of the gay boys gyrating in the crowd probably worked up more of a lather than Neil ever did. But then I reminded myself that acting as though they're heavily sedated has always been a major part of the duo's vibe, and after that I had more fun.

Cameras were allowed, and because of our great seats I got some really cool shots during the show.

 

 

 

Over the course of two hours, Darren and I also grew quite fond of a comely young man in front of us, who was there with handsome man easily 20 years his senior.

It definitely seemed like sugar-daddy situation, but based on the lad's unflagging enthusiasm throughout the concert, daddy was going to get his money's worth for the ticket.

Alas, in this picture his arms aren't raised, so you're deprived of the beauty of his sculpted biceps. Swoon.

Finally, although the audio quality of this clip is truly abominable (the iPhone is never going to be the bootlegger's tool of choice), here's a snippet of the show's encore, the obligatory yet still very fun West End Girls.

It was a fun night--much more entertaining that a Wednesday night knitting at home.

PS. Aw hell, you deserve the biceps, too! Just turn the sound down--it's not needed.

Hasta la vista, Charles

Joe.My.God. has a blog post up about Charles Perez fleeing Florida after his messy break-up with his employer.

If you recall, I have the most tenuous of connections to Charles.

 

I wonder if my postcard is worth some money now.

Doubt it.