Hilton Kramer is Stupid.

The latest in my series of cranky posts ...
And I worry about sounding like a jerk in public. For gosh's sake, central park is a bit of land with some nice paths, by no means a sacred work of art (Anybody ever heard of Seneca Village?). And it is up for sixteen freaking days. Take a deep breath.

Rocky at the Gates

Since I have been so cranky, I figured I ought to share a reminder that there is good in the world. JK and I visited America's favorite public art project again this weekend, this time with a friend. A Gates volunteer gave Rocky a ride on her tennis-ball-ended fabric fixing pole so he could have a close-up view of the project.

Rocky had a nice time visiting the Gates and was very excited that the color matched his outfit so well. He is very pleased with his complimentary saffron swatch as well, though I have had to thwart a couple of his attempts to sell it on eBay.

Why Academia is f***ed up

Because of the following gross generalizations with no research behind them, and a few others:

Because middle class white americans with high self-esteem talk about how evil middle class white americans are.
Because any asshole agrees that Gandhi should be quoted more than Freud.
Because the concept of the "Other" never helped anybody get along.
Because power dynamics are a bit more complicated than that.
Because if you need to simplify things into ridiculous stereotypes to make your argument then your argument sucks.
Because not all eligible graduate students vote.
Because "problematize" is not in the dictionary.
Because I might actually believe in the American dream, and it makes me hate our goddamn president all the more.
Because East Coast liberal intellectuals ARE Americans, and I know this because I was BORN one.
Because nobody actually wants to talk about how we might actually change anything.
Because I DO talk to my dead grandma.
Because my hormones are messed up presently.

I hate mohair

So I started this cute mohair sweater from knitty about a year ago, got approximately 1/2 way done, and realized that because of my, um, figure it would look terrible on me (the bodice was not ending up in anywhere near a bodice location and it was way too short despite my attempts at pattern alteration.) I threw it in the closet and sulked for a couple of months. Finally, in a moment of intense empowerment, I frogged it. Joy! Until about the third row, Let me tell you, nothing, NOTHING, is worse than unravelling mohair. Except knitting with it again. In a moment of graduate-school-induced insanity, I made the mistake of trying to knit a hat from the frogged wool. After about six rows and six hours of untangling yarn on the subway, I gave up.
But Top likes it.

Handbag Envy.

I really didn't think I was this kind of girl. I thought that bags held stuff, a great vintage find was the epitome of cool, and that if you had a thousand dollars burning a hole in your pocket you should buy groceries and happily send the remainer to the nonprofit of your choice. But all these stylish girls (ok, two) in my program have Coach bags. And there is something about being a poor graduate student with a shoulder injury from lugging all my books around in my (stylish-for-new england, ever-functional, clashes-with-heels) Timbuktu messenger bag that has me on e-bay under the pretense of a school-related look at the sale of Gates memorobilia, hopelessly scrolling to the 29th page of sort-by-price to see something I can afford. Yes, mom, I want a pretty handbag.

I'm a sucker, too ...

For "The Gates." I am not really sure that I 100% like Christo (opps, Christo and Jeanne-Claude now, although what's up with him not giving his wife credit for like 20 years?), and I was quoted in the NY Times saying how much I dislike bright orange, but I can't lie. I (heart) public art, I almost cried when I had to remove my name from the volunteer list because of silly grad school, and whether he likes it or not I am dragging JK out of bed tomorrow morning to see bright orange fabric and art tourists and Japanese TV crews be unleashed on Central Park. It's like the marathon, only better, and longer, and without running. Only problem I see is that C&JP's self-righteous self-financing isn't really going to help less-superstar artists secure dough to do projects. But that's another post - right now I am caught up in the spirit of civic pride inspired by public art. Or something. Gosh, just look at the cute minimum-wage "volunteers."
Read about it all here, where, bless them, the Times has an inordinate number of relentlessly cheery articles about the cooperative volunteer spirit, and public art uniting the city, and nice police men communing with performance artists, and etc, etc, etc. Oh, New York City, heaven, heaven, heaven.

On a mostly unrelated note, a nice man in one of ubiquitous east village pizza joints gave me a free slice last night when I was freezing and famished without even hitting on me. Public art must inspire culinary generosity too!

Museums and Knitting, or confirmation that I really am a nerd.

After a conversation about my dream job with a friend and fellow student, a quick google (and, oh, google, how I heart thee) informed us that the closest thing to a knitting museum is the Ruddington Framework Knitters' Museum, in the East Midlands, UK ... more of a historic site museum exploring the textile industry, but nevertheless features exciting opportunities such as using a 19th century sock knitting machine.
On a relatedly obscure note, The Museum of Modern Art has a pretty huge design collection which includes a number of beautiful, functional, and covet-able household appliances and other consumer goods. It dawned on me on the subway that the ADDI TURBO should obviously be considered for accession.

girl posts cute picture of cat on interweb

Anyone interested? I'm not sure either. But, a test of a first post of my 'blog.

ps - I did make the duvet cover, so maybe this can count as my first crafty post, too.