Friday, October 12, 2012


I guess someone got wind that there was a white girl up in Harlem knitting and playing the ukulele, and I've been sentenced to imprisonment in Brooklyn with the rest of the hipsters.  I almost feel relieved to have been caught.  I've been on the run so long, living a lie in upper Manhattan.  It feels good to finally be honest about who and what I am.

No?  Okay.

So, my cats answered a Craig's List ad about a sunny top floor brownstone apartment that overlooks a park with lots of squirrel activity and that has a layout which allows for premium run-sprints-around-the-joint-crazy-go-nuts action.  They stole my cellphone and disguised their little kitty voices and forged my name on the lease.  I'm not very happy about it, and I'm considering legal action.

No?  Okay.

Something about ninjas and an evil otter and for some reason Brooklyn is the key to saving mankind from utter destruction.

The truth is boring, but the fact is I'm moving to Brooklyn in two weeks.  My posts may be a little sparse until then, but rest assured, my yarn will be packed up last of all.


Saturday, October 6, 2012

Coping with my failures

I believe I've expounded several times in the blog on my love of felting projects.  So it goes without saying I was excited when I found a (very simple) pattern online for a felted bathmat/kitchen mat.

I used some sunny pinks and yellows and oranges and purples.  It knitted up quickly and I could hardly wait to see how it would look in my kitchen.  Below is a pre-felting shot of the rug after I finished knitting it.

The only problem was that I didn't have immediate access to a washer to felt it.  Not usually a problem, I've felted lots of stuff by hand.  Once, when I was working on a show away from home, I felted a project in the hotpot I had set up in my hotel room.  God, I'm such a dork.

Anyway, the trouble is the bigger the project is, the harder it is to felt it by hand.  And this rug was pretty big.  

The thing is, if I would've just been patient I would've had access to a washing machine and it wouldn't have been a problem.  But I am an impatient jerk.  And I get too excited for the finished product - especially the finished felted product.  

I had heard that some people actually prefer to do their felting in a big pot on a stove, but I'd never really had much experience with that.  I just happen to have a giant pot because I like to do canning, as well (of course), so I popped the rug into the pot with some water and set it to boil.

And before long, I realized that the dye had begun to run and leech out of most of the yarns.  What I had hoped and dreamed would be a brightly colored multi-striped mat, turned into a drab, two-tone peach and mauve POS.

And I hate it.  But I'm stubborn and I like to get into fights with inanimate objects.  I enjoy treating mishaps as if they were actually signs that the universe hates me, and therefore I refuse to do the logical thing and throw the POS out and start over.  Because that would be admitting defeat, you see.  And I will not do that.

Friday, October 5, 2012

Maybe I'm Not An Actor Anymore....But I Could Knit You One.

Sometimes I think being an actor was the worst idea I have had.  For example, when I think about the fact that I've done one play in the past five years.  Or when I think of the soul-suckingingly depressing act of having your sense of self-worth filtered through the lens of a bleary-eyed and bored casting director.

Boo-hoo-hoo to me.

Seriously, the less I think about how fucked up and counterproductive the business of being an artist can be, the better I feel - not just about myself but the world.

That being said, if you have a line on an audition you think I'd be right for, let me know.  It's a little like what I imagine a being a crackhead is like.  I'll keep saying I can give it up, but man, oh man, next thing you know I'm sucking a dealer's dick for a role.  I mean a rock.  Either way.  You get the metaphor.


My sweet friend Michael asked me if I would be interested in making some dolls for a short play that he's producing for another sweet fella, Jonathan.  And I was all, "Hell yeah, I would."  The only specification was that one of them should be a one-eared cat.

So, here are my new actor friends that I just made.  In alphabetical order (as per their contracts):

Above is Bobby Blobby.  He's sort of your overly-serious, slightly schlubby but chameleon-like actor.  Basically, he's Knitted Philip Seymour Hoffman.

Introducing, Freddy Fingers.  He's kind of ugly and weird, but also sexyish? and non-threatening, and definitely a character actor and not a leading spider.  He's knitted Peter Lorre, or Willem Dafoe, or Steve Buscemi.  

And our leading lady, Paco.  She's beautiful, in an unconventional sort of way, and exotic, her accent is thick and her features are slightly asymmetrical, but she as a ne sais quoi.  She's knitted Audrey Tatou or Marion Cotillard.

Here's the cast publicity shot.  Bobby's got a well-documented drinking problem, even though his PR guy says it was a bout with exhaustion, either way, that should account for his rough appearance.

If these fuckers hit it big, I'll be expecting my ten percent.