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An old friend sent me a link to this photo. I can’t figure out whether it’s me or not. What do you think? I don’t remember ever painting my face like this…

McCain called his wife a “cunt.” In public.

Goodness, what a lot of hoopla.

I loved Michelle’s dress, and the triple brooches. Retrobama!

What if I said the purpose of art is to keep people busy?

right here

“Surrealist” Jennifer Diederich, recently aufed from Project Runway, in a demure outfit. At first Gary and I thought, “Juliana Spahr?”

OK, so I made this pattern:

but added godets and petite-ified it (it’s shorter than the one in the pattern pic). The fabric’s from Japan and has a beautiful linen-y slub texture, tho it’s cotton:

I know I should just set up the damn tripod, but I’m worn out from hemming.

I’m wondering if Aase Berg is my Swedish sister. Our writing isn’t similar, but our poetics are:

From “It’s Not Acceptable to be Fatso”:

“… I hope for poetic expressions that are aggressive, baroque and esoteric; I prefer ridiculous and embarrassing to perfection. On the literary market, which is dominated by the aesthetic and social ideals of the upper middleclass, it is unacceptable to be excessive in any way – one adjective too many and you’re out. There’s a stubborn cliché that the sober, quiet and elegant, the so-called “simple” is categorically more informative than the noisy. The fleshy, screamy and overdone, the vulgar, desperate and pathetic are so taboo in our culture that there must be dog buried in the phenomenon.”*