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March 30, 2006
Loose Transcript of a Speech Given by Rebecca Axby, Head of the Amherst, MA Yarn Circle, on the Subject of “Recent, Unfortunate Knitting Choices”
Hi everyone, thanks for coming. It’s great to see you all. Now, I know that we want to get started but some members have come to me over the past few weeks and asked me to address an issue that has been causing a stir in our community. And no, who I’m not going to name names, but it has been more- considerably more- than one person.
It’s a delicate subject because we all do great work here and we are all in a big (and growing) family and the support has been great, but a quite a few of the members have been bothered by what they see as unfortunate or divisive knitting choices. In response, I’ve spoken with a few of you privately and, after our conversations, I’ve decided to bring these matters to the attention of the group as a whole. I hope that we can talk through this and then, if it comes to it, vote on knitting guidelines
But I want to say at the start- and I know that we are supposed to discuss this- that I don’t like this idea of guidelines. We have always been very free and supportive here and I would like to see us form a community based on mutual understanding and respect rather than hard rules over patterns and stitching. We all know about the two rival knitting groups in Northampton, how they developed a great deal of animosity toward each other and how someone threw a flaming ball of yarn into the passenger seat of Ms. Sterne’s car. That was all started over some rules. Rules exclude people, and I don’t want that to happen to us.
I also want to give a bit of history and background before we have a discussion. We started, as most of you know, back in 1988— a long time ago in knitting terms. All of the founders are still involved in this organization even though some of them are not here tonight. At the time, the Yarn Circle was half community activity and half knitting promotion. Knitting was coming back. The founders were learning as they knitted together and turned out scarves and hats and then began turning out shirts and larger projects such as the ten person quilt in 1995. We grew too. I joined in 1992 and can tell you that we are at least five times the size of any knitting group in the early 90’s. Some people became bored with knitting and dropped off and I’m sad to say that some of our members have passed away over the years as well.
Some of our members also advanced past pattern work in the late 1990’s and we became known, for a while, as a little bit of an avant garde knitting organization. Cheryl’s table cozy was the first example, I think, and Ms. Reid’s cozy for her dead husband attracted lots of attention and got a mention in the Union News down in Springfield and the Hampshire Gazette over in Northampton. I should also mention Ms. Mark’s knitted interpretation of the Claes Oldenburg Soft Pay Telephone sculpture. That was in 2000, I guess. We needed a van and pallet to move it but it looked great hanging off of the side of the UMass library until the police took it down.
I bring this up because Ms. Marks, you know, left our yarn circle two years ago. Apparently, she did not have time for our group any more; not in her quest to become the Robert Mapplethorpe of American knitting. Some of her friends are still here and I thank you for staying with us. At the same time, Ms. Mark’s move to her own knitting studio shows that there may be some unspoken limits to our knitting club.
In fact, many members have always been perfectly happy knitting scarves and hats and they have made some really great pieces. At the same time, some feel a bit of tension when Kyle, to give an example, brings out the hand-knit death threat that he is working on. Not that the knitting is at all bad— it’s really good— but it’s becoming clear that his piece is intended as a gift to one of our members and I’m sure that nobody really wants to sit for two hours twice a week while someone knits a bloody, three dimensional knife carving up her name. The knitted kidnap lettering is a nice touch, though.
And so, that brings me to my point. We encourage creative knitting but we need projects that are respectful both to our group and to the larger Amherst community. The knitted handcuff cozies were great. On the other hand, our neighbors have protested about the kitted remake of Damien Hirst’s Bisected Cow that is sitting out, right now, in a vat of formaldehyde on the lawn. The same goes for Mr. Lefferts and his performance art knitting. I happen to like your performances but other circle members have mentioned that they find it distracting to see a grown man in writhing and moaning in a mass of tangled yarn on the floor, stabbing at the air with knitting needles and cursing in Dutch.
But this really isn’t meant to highlight or shame any of our members here. We all have different tastes. Cheryl, who has left our group, used to knit socks out of partially tanned cat skin. That was her thing and we understood that. It was nice to have the windows open in the spring, anyway. I just want to open the floor for discussion here, in order to see whether we can develop some guidelines, or at least find a way to make everyone as comfortable and creative as possible.
Okay, any questions? Good. Let’s begin.
Posted by jb at 10:14 AM | Comments (1)
March 28, 2006
Suggested answers to the question “What was that?” just asked by an 8 year old camping out in his own tent for the first time on a family trip in the Maine Woods
1. It is a bear
You may not know it, but the Maine woods are famous for bear training sites. These sites serve as finishing schools for Ursi that may have cut their teeth in the Yosemite Valley or up in the Wilds of Alaska. In the evenings, the bears set up test areas where practice dummies of frightened kids are placed near trees and under rocks. The bears need to retrieve these dummies and eat them within an allotted time span. Nobody knows the time span. The bears do get points, however, for nabbing a hand or a foot.
You may wonder, at this point, why your parents agreed to let you camp out in your own tent while they stayed in the camper van. True, you asked for it, but you remember a look of relief on their faces. They even set the tent up for you. It is smaller, and they called it an eight-year old tent. At the time, you thought that it meant it was your tent. You felt special. You should have read the outside of the tent. It says EIGHT YEAR OLD INSIDE. That’s so the bears will know.
2. It is that crazy person who was killing everyone in that movie you saw two nights ago
There is a crazy person in the woods near your tent and he is waiting to kill people; probably you, your parents, or both. He is in the woods because he knows that you saw his movie two nights ago. He also knows that you hid under the desk in the living room and watched it even though you were supposed to be in bed so you can’t just walk up to the camper van, knock on the door, and announce that there is a crazy person in the woods. That makes you the best first target. He probably followed your family up from your house in Connecticut, strapped to the underside of the van just like he did in the movie. Probably, he will throw your arm through the camper window in order to lure your parents out. It works every time. You already know the important question: is he the type of serial killer that will wait until you are asleep or is he making that noise outside so that you will panic and bolt from the tent? There is probably a police workup somewhere that says “Warning: serial Killer. Looks for tent plus camper van combinations. Tends to throw arms through windows. Eight year olds a specialty.” You stay awake, wondering which photo your parents will choose for the milk carton.
3. It is your older cousin Louis, who stabbed you in the leg with a hunting arrow last week
Yeah, so you yelled a lot and then cried and so Louis, who was over because your Mom’s sister was over, got in a lot of trouble and he was spanked and he was forced to say that he was sorry but you know that he wasn’t sorry and he gave you that look that said “Just wait until I get you alone and you’ll be sorry for getting me in trouble like this and even if I am forced to, let’s say, wait fifteen years and change my identity twice and train in the CIA, I will track you down and kill you for telling my mom that I put that arrow in your leg when you know and I know that we were both just fooling around that that’s what you get and, for that matter, that’s what you will get so help me...” And you know how your Mom and Dad were talking and saying that Louis was kinda crazy and that his mom had been forced to take him to therapy which is unusual because what type of fourteen year old needs therapy and you know that his craziness is just an act because he’s actually evil. Your Aunt told Louis that he couldn’t go on this trip, but that wouldn’t stop him. Right now, he is probably sitting on the edge of the campsite. That sound? He is probably sharpening his baseball bat.
4. Aliens
It is a fact that mental control tracer chips work better in kids under 12. Unfortunately for you, this particular set of Aliens is more interested in organ harvesting than tracking. You are using an A-frame tent, right? It’s not called an A-frame because of the shape, even though it is pointed at the top. “A” stands for Aliens. These tents are famously used as beacons. That’s why so many hikers disappeared in the 1970s. Right now, a team of aliens are pushing a shopping cart through the woods, singing the kidney song. If you listen, you can hear them in the distance, getting closer. They have already used their telepathic powers to put your parents to sleep. You could run, but there is also a serial killer in the woods, waiting for you to bolt from the tent (see number 2).
5. You parents are actually werewolves, and they have taken you out into the woods in order to kill you.
When you turned seven, you realized that you were not related to your parents. You’ve kept this secret for a long time because you don’t want to hurt their feelings. Now, you realize that this was a mistake. What are they doing in that camper van and why did they put you out here? Did they have sympathy for you? Did they want to give you a chance to get away before bursting through the door, slavering and eating everything in sight? Maybe they go out into the woods in order to avoid killing their neighbors. They suggested leaving you with a sitter just yesterday but you yelled and promised to stop putting turkey, mustard, and bread on the dog and calling it “Sandwich” and they gave in. Now, you are out here alone. You wonder how many miles to the nearest highway. Werewolves are fast, though. You’ll never make it through the woods by running. Why didn’t you put sticks and leaves around the tent to conceal it? That’s what you get for not planning ahead. Your Cub Scout leader keeps waxing on about “being prepared” but he never had to deal with werewolves. The more that you think about it, the more it makes sense. You were never their child. You are a snack.
6. It is nothing.
This is incorrect. If it is quiet outside, if you hear nothing but the hum of cicadas, then something really dangerous is sneaking up on you. How do I know that it is dangerous? Ask yourself this question: What else could be that silent?
Posted by jb at 08:53 AM | Comments (2)
March 27, 2006
Puppykat: A Day In The Life
6:30 AM: Wake up, go to Ellen’s bed, wag tail, try to make “huff huff” sound again. Leap on to bed and breathe in face.
7:30 AM: Quit breathing in face, leap off bed. Try barking. Moment of conflict. Whine.
8:30 AM: Eat breakfast. Watch Ellen struggle to eat bowl of cereal while putting on hose. Remind her about being let out.
8:38 AM: Ellen is looking for phone, then keys, still need to be let out. Go fetch toy and put in front of her feet. Maybe she wants to play. Walk in circles. This worked last time. Listen to Ellen yell about litter box. Look at her. Still need to be let out.
8:40 AM to 2:00 PM: Go to bathroom on carpet, sleep, watch sidewalk outside of window. Wait for birds to land on the parked cars. Wag tail when other cats pass nearby.
2:00 PM to 5:00 PM: Soul crushing existential crisis.
6:00 PM: Ellen comes home. Yells about litter box. Get let out. Take favorite chew toy on walk.
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Posted by jb at 06:46 AM | Comments (0)
March 25, 2006
Darth Vader's Demise As Understood in the Context of a Box of General Mills Cereal, Interpreted by the Head Investigator of the Parnassus, NJ Police Force
Jones, get the light. Thanks Jones. Allright men, this is all that we have to go on, two pictures, and one…cape. The bodies are missing but we have reason to believe that Vader was kidnapped from the Lucky Pigeon last night and may have been killed. Cut to picture number one. This bowl of cereal is our lead suspect. We suspect that Vader may have known his assailant. Cut to picture number two.
We have been fortunate to obtain this. It surfaced in the mail after the Dooku massacre in Chicago. Vader—younger here—is apparently trying to fend off the bowl of cereal while this other woman… hold on… Padme watches from the background. Given her expression in the photograph and her known relationship with Vader, we suspect that she may be colluding with the cereal. Her whereabouts are unknown but she is to be treated as a potential suspect in this case.
Cut to picture number one. We have reason to believe that this is the same bowl of cereal. If anyone comes across any evidence that there may be more than one perpetrator, that these bowls are twins or maybe a gang, get on the phone and call me. I need to let other people know. Apparently the police in Modesto have put George Lucas’ house on 24 hour watch.
Also, note Vader’s expression. We believe that he may have been suffering from depression.
Okay, you all know the routine. I’m reminding you all that this is a high profile case for Parnassus. Please don’t talk to reporters. Also, no heroics. This bowl of cereal has already killed two Jedi… wait, sorry, Sith knights. We suspect that your bulletproof vest will not provide sufficient protection. Maintain perimeter and call for backup. That goes for you too Parker. Just do your job this time.
Jones, get the light. Thanks Jones.
Posted by jb at 08:00 AM | Comments (3)
March 24, 2006
Alllight?
You have $100 right? You don’t? I’m sure you can get it. Why? Because I’ve just been given a lead on the guns & ammo equivalent of a Pantera reunion tour. No really, check this out: Boomershot 2006 . 200 people are driving to Idaho in late April for the express purpose of taking rifle shots at over 800 targets containing nearly 1000 lbs of high explosives. After all, the only thing better than shooting at something is shooting at something and watching it blow up. Apparently, it takes place out in a field. Shots are taken from 350+ yards for most of the day but there is some late in the day cleanup at closer ranges if some of the explosives have failed to detonate. The organizers maintain a strict ceasefire when cars are passing by. The only thing that could be more fun would be a combination explosive detonation and pumpkin chucking event. Or a Pantera reunion. It’s no too late. I hear Anthrax is getting back together.
Posted by jb at 01:07 PM | Comments (2)
March 23, 2006
The twenty five thousand dollar hedgehog
So what is this?
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Posted by jb at 10:15 AM | Comments (4)
March 22, 2006
Special Alert! Alien Ships Landed in Boston
Everyone in Boston knew this I guess, but the Boston Herald broke the story yesterday: the Gillette company is run by aliens who power their intergalactic cruisers with stubble. These aliens first approached the earth in 1901 after discovering that razor civilization on the planet was advancing and that the safety razor, invented roughly 100 years earlier, was slowly overtaking the straight razor, an artifact from an earlier alien culture that powered it’s ships entirely with nicked skin and styptic.
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Posted by jb at 06:14 AM | Comments (2)
March 21, 2006
Boxcar Mafia
To the editors: in reference to your recent article on train gangs, I’d like to note that you are “off” in several details which I’ll attempt to correct. To wit, train gangs were started by prohibition-era Irish mobsters, not “a pack of deranged film buffs from Poughkeepsie” and while I agree that the Salvadoran gangs have attempted to break into the St Louis railcar scene, they have been systematically repulsed and absolutely nobody ever leaves a Reading Railroad card in a mailbox as a threat anymore, particularly after the Chechen Mafia began setting up full 1:10 scale train sets compete with mountains, underpasses, small buildings, and railroad crossings in the front yard of anyone intended as a target. The victims, many of whom owed debts to the mafia, would pay up or get out of town. Experts feel that the layout of shrubbery may have been used to deliver a far more detailed message but to the best of my knowledge, nobody has been able to crack this code.
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Posted by jb at 06:23 AM | Comments (1)
March 20, 2006
Reflections on the Polar Bear Rhumba
It’s Sunday morning. I’m sitting at my desk, listening to Danger Doom and thinking about Polar Bears. The Boston Public Radio folks ran a segment on the impact of global warming which is apparently killing Polar Bear tourism in Churchill, Canada. Churchill is on the shore of the Hudson Bay, at a spot where the ice freezes early in the fall. The polar bears gather in Churchill and wait for the ice to form in October/ November before heading out on the floes to search for seal, the powerbar of the polar bear kingdom.
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Posted by jb at 08:39 AM | Comments (0)
March 11, 2006
Jyllands-Posten
Today is March 11th. It has been six days since the last reported protest over the Muhammad cartoons published in Jyllands-Posten. The cartoons were first published on 30 September, 2005. The first calls (casting calls, natch) for the death of the cartoonists were launched in early December (Dec 3,4) and demonstrations swelled then subsided around the world through Dec, Jan, and Feb. The AP reported “tens of thousands” marching in Karachi on the 5th of March. That estimate is meaningless but there was probably a medium sized protest.
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Posted by jb at 08:54 AM | Comments (1)
March 07, 2006
Rt 235, Southern MD
It is spring at Saint Mary's but early spring; January. Andy has started a jug band and he's looking for a washboard which means that he needs to drive up Rt. 235 from Saint Mary's city to Waldorf, MD 1.5 hours away. I'm in the car with him and the radio is playing Sonny Rollin's Saxophone Colossus. The last time we played this song was on a fateful drive to Fredericksburg, VA to eat waffles at the Fredericksburg Waffle House while watching a sudden torrential rain and hail mix beat Andy’s no-start car security system to death. Anyway, we are driving and because it is January on the Chesapeake it is snowing and cars are plowing ahead at a conservative 25 miles per hour which is not at all acceptable when you are planning a jug band and need to get a washboard.
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Posted by jb at 10:19 PM | Comments (1)
March 06, 2006
Placeholder #3
This is a poem from Lucille Clifton, a writer in residence at St. Mary's College. The campus sits at the tip of the St. Mary's River, which slides into the tail end of the Potomac River in southern Maryland. I was not part of the poets and writers cult at the college and so I didn’t follow her obsessively but her poems remain nostalgic for reasons of context as well as content.
may the tide
that is entering even now
the lip of our understanding
carry you out
beyond the face of fear
may you kiss
the wind then turn from it
certain that it will
love your back may you
open your eyes to water
water waving forever
and may you in your innocence
sail through this to that
Posted by jb at 05:24 AM | Comments (1)
March 02, 2006
The Endless Molasses Tar Pit
Time for year-round tonic tonight. Apple cider vinegar and hot water with a touch of molasses. Normally, I’m supposed to use blackstrap molasses, which requires a few extra rounds of boiling and crushing sugar cane in order to extract the denser, bitter sugars, but I’m using normal, sugary first round molasses because it’s all that I have on hand. Not that I’d boil sugar cane in the kitchen anyway. I’ve never boiled sugar cane—all of my molasses has come from a glass jar.
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Posted by jb at 09:32 PM | Comments (1)
March 01, 2006
Chainsaw Perfume
I recalled the scent of dogwood and magnolia while reading through an LL Bean catalog over breakfast this morning. That’s a detail, I know. I’ll also provide another detail: I like reading over breakfast, or listening to the radio, but I can’t do both. Breakfast is not a time for multitasking. It is the largest meal of the day and takes an hour to an hour and a half and ideally, that will be a space of peace and quiet (and yes, a radio can sometimes make things even quieter, if it is playing low and in the background).
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Posted by jb at 11:49 AM | Comments (6)