Your sky is full of castles. My sky is full of shitting birds.

I want to slow down time. Like, not do fistfulls of ketamine and live in slow motion, but I mean actually just have every day be two days long, just til the end of summer.

Things were going pretty well. I got pretty seriously fryingpanned in the face last weekend by a few things and I still can't get my head on straight about it. Come on, lady. No time to mope. There are commitments and obligations and the ever-onward march toward forever after to contend with and each day refuses to contain more than 24 hours as much as I shake my fists and demand it. There's no time to lay on the floor listening to the Smiths and sighing. But I want to.

(That's just a metaphor, guys. I don't listen to the Smiths when I am sad. Or sit in the bathtub for days at a time. Those are other people's techniques. I stare into the middle distance, whine on the internet, drink like an asshole, get FURIOUS that I am so stupid and throw several mental tantrums about it and don't get my work done. Dummy.)


Instead let's listen to Cosmonauts and tear off giant chunks of our to-do lists with our teeth:

(From the "If You Wanna Die, Then I Wanna Die" LP on Burger Records. Good stuff. Whole thing's streaming here: http://cosmonautstheband.bandcamp.com/album/if-you-wanna-die-then-i-wanna-die. Thanks Joe.)

Speaking of cosmonauts, this fucking old nugget wormholed into my brain for no reason a few days ago and made a home. No sign of leaving. Hmph. Weird, considering I don't think I have heard it since I was in like the 8th grade or something:

Embarrassing. I think it's a very bad sign when you start getting hung up on songs from your youth. Definitely means you're 1) old and 2) bored (/boring?). Ugh. Reason number 9 zillion to buck up, get some shit done, get this party planned so there is time to get awesome and start some new projects before we dive back under another dirty Edmonton winter. So we don't have to listen to the sad hits of our childhood anymore. Well, just a couple more times, maybe.

Hey! I am having like a total pioneer woman week. Tonight some babes are getting together on the rooftop balcony of my hot photographer friend and she is teaching us how to hook rugs. Seriously. That is a thing I will know how to do after today. Take THAT winter. If that doesn't get me on a good team post zombie-apocalypse then I just don't know what. I plan to do hooked rug portraits. Huge ones. I think a living room sized Nobunny rug portrait would be a great place to start. Then maybe my dog.

Nobunny:

Actually, let's be fair:

My dog:

The other thing is that in preparation for my upcoming cabin wedding, I am forcing a bunch of my cute nice friends to come over and help me pickle various things in cute jars as guest favours. What no one knows is that I have never pickled anything in my life, with the exception of my liver. It could be a total disaster, OR it could be another pioneer lady skill that will come in handy when I have decided to give up on humans and go to live in the forest alone. I have recipes. They had to work for someone, right? What could go wrong?

Speaking of alone (and I am not going to dwell on this, don't worry) SWEET MERCIFUL FUCK, CAN WEDDING PLANNING EVER SUCK IT!!! Man, this is brutal. I want to make a list of all the people whose weddings I attended and give them several extra presents. How do people do this? Anyone want to take over? I'd be happy to skip town and go eat pickles and hook rugs in the forest. All the face-fryingpanning is not helping that scenario either. So dumb. I can't wait until it is the day and there is nothing else I can crap my pants about so I can just have awesome friend times and romance times and it will all be... settled.

Anyway. Whine whine. Sorry.

Oh, this is really awesome! Dara Humniski is selling some art! I know I talk about her non stop on this blog, but she's totally amazing.

(Lino-cut & ink, framed - $150)

(Lino-cut & ink, uframed - $125)

(Scratch card & ink, unframed - $200)

So good. Sigh.

I would just like to say that if I hear another sweaty word from ANYONE about Fifty Shades of Grey I am going to start punching in teeth. Gross.

That being said, I am out of books that I want to read. Does anyone have a list they can share with me? It's summer so, you know, keep it interesting. Not sweaty nerd masturbation interesting, as mentioned above. Thx.

Fish just recommended "Empire of the Summer Moon" by S.C. Gwynne.

Review is here: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/11/books/review/excerpt-empire-of-the-summer-moon.html?pagewanted=all

He said it kind of reads a bit like Blood Meridian, which of course blew my fucking hair back because Cormac McCarthy is a genius and a dark motherfucker. He actually said it was like Blood Meridian except that the story is all true. So... you know, I am debating whether or not I can actually handle that. I think it may put my melodrama into perspective so maybe I can get over myself and get some shit done. Seems a good reason.

Anyway, sorry for the lame post. I'm too busy.

I'm a lover but I'm calling you out

I just stared at the 'edit title' field for twenty minutes with no new title ideas. The search continues for a new name for this dumb thing.  Any ideas?

It's been too long since I awkwardly overshared on this thing. Seems like my silly heart does bizarro shit when I don't talk to myself on the internet frequently enough. I guess it's kind of comforting that getting wicked old doesn't mean I can't still get preposterously emotional about totally stupid things. I am not going to grow out of that at some point. This is it, folks. This is what I turned out like.

Wanna hear about my wedding? Just kidding.

The work hard/play hard crew was out in full force last night. That was really fun. I love them all so hard. I totally can't keep up with them, it's really embarrassing. This morning I feel like a sun-baked turd soaked in gasoline. Don't try to keep up with the youngbloods. How often must this lesson be taught? Ungh. Such a dummy. I felt and acted like a fucking weirdo a little bit. As usual. Embarrassing. Hearts are complicated. (And resilient. It'll be ok.) Ramona Quimby complex, man. Always doing it just a little bit wrong. I try, I swear.

Regret.

Pizza Regret! Coconut Coolouts! I heard about this band from Joe and they are great:

Not one single fuck is given by these little scamps. I will watch and learn.

The Lad Mags recording is done. (Somehow people were getting drunkenly forced to listen to it last night. Sorry. I am pretty sure it wasn't my fault, but that's pretty embarrassing. Really, I'm totally sorry about that.) I am really excited about it. I know people probably wouldn't tell me if it sucked, but I am hearing good things, which is nice. We worked hard. Also a whole crew of people (Fish, Doug, Jessica) also worked hard. We're so lucky. That band is saving my life right now. Also consuming a pretty giant portion of it, about which I couldn't possibly be happier. I don't want to get too smushy about it, but I love those guys. Anyway, we have to get it replicated now. I think a 7" first. Maybe a cassette single. Cassingle. Anyone have a place they use that is awesome? I don't know how to do any of these things. I don't think you're supposed to admit that. Oopsies.

You should listen to this show: https://wfmu.org/playlists/BS

It is The Best Show with Tom Scharpling. It totally rules. He is such a smartass. I am totally jealous. Funny shit. I think there is some sort of licensing issue where they have to take out all the music that he plays when the show is live, which is too bad because he seems to know everything good about music, but seriously, this show is awesome. I demand that you watch it. Watch it? Listen to it. It is a radio show. Ugh. My rotting brain.

Angie Pontani is coming to town, which gives me maximum glitter boners. For those who don't know, she is one of the greatest burlesque artists currently out there, truly an incredible performer, a stone cold fox, an athlete and an artist. Reigning Queen of Burlesque in 2008. Seriously, I can't waaaaait.

Ok. The end. Recipe time. My hangover and this heatwave are begging for Gazpacho-style chilled soup. So refreshing and just a little spicy vinegar kick... Total recovery guaranteed. I might be too lazy to make it happen, but I am increasing the chances by having the recipe out and ready to go, so you might as well make it along with me. This is like gazpacho without a whole loaf of mushy bread blended into it. Ick.  1) Soggy bread is gross and 2) Gazpacho calls for,  like an ENTIRE loaf of French bread and that shit is TERRIBLE for you. It's bare skin season, man. Watch those white flour calories. You're welcome.

Some notes: There used to be onion in this recipe. I always skip or drastically reduce the onion because I actually kind of hate onions and I lots of times add celery because I totally love celery and actually sometimes love adding a little wilted spinach to the mix as well, although that kind of alters the vibe of the soup a bit, just so you're warned. Vibe. Seriously? Jesus, Aspen. Anyway, follow your hearts on this one, buddies. It's a forgiving recipe. You should freestyle. More fun that way.

Ingredients

• 2 pounds Roma (plum) tomatoes, quartered
• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 4 cloves garlic
• 1 quart chicken stock
• 1/4 cup chopped fresh basil
• 1/2 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
• salt to taste
• ground black pepper to taste

Directions

1. Place the tomato halves, cut side up, on a baking tray with the garlic cloves. Drizzle with the oil, and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast at 375 degrees F (195 degrees C) for 1 hour.
2. Snip the ends off the garlic cloves, and squeeze the insides into the bowl of a food processor along with the entire contents of the baking tray. Add stock, basil, and vinegar; blend until smooth. Season to taste. Serve either hot or cold.