Clothes Patterns, Fabric, Neanderthals and Soul Mates

Had the most delicious swordfish for lunch – well, a portion of one anyway – I made it just like I would have made fresh tuna and let it marinate overnight, and it came out like melt-in-your mouth heaven:  marinated and then braised in wine, fruit juice, ginger, leeks, garlic and soy sauce, and the fish was so succulent it fell apart on your fork.  I have discovered I really love leeks, by the way, surprising exactly no one because I am a passionate fan of onions and garlic when I can get away with eating them and not asphyxiating anybody.  It has always seemed a shame to me that roots so heavenly and fragrant and delicious and healthy are the same roots which leak out your pores and have people backing away from you.

Back to the pattern creation:  to my surprise, I found two tops that had the back yoke like I wanted, so now I can make an attempt at reverse engineering them for my first try at a “made from scratch” clothes pattern.  Hadn’t thought of them because they (yes, both of them) had been in the “missing a button” box for so long.  Clothes are really poorly made these days:  you wear them once and buttons just fall off of them.  Found the buttons too, so may actually be able to wear them again, assuming they’re not too big for me now ... once I sew the buttons on, that is.

There was this pattern I bought many years ago – a Retro Pattern from 1952 (Butterick) – which I just loved, although I doubted I could ever wear it ... big, full skirt, that wraps around from the back and buttons in the front, lined by double-edged bias tape that makes this wonderful, slimming line down the front ... and all of a sudden, my proportions are small enough that I can make it quite easily.  The plan was to shorten it dramatically ... no way was I going to wear the full length skirt you see here; I just loved that “Y” bias tape line down the center and the contrast “overskirt” illusion.

To give you an example of how I envisioned the shortened version – here’s another dress maker who had the same idea, although I planned to use  more contrast in the bias tape, but I did love how the dress looked – whoever she is, she did a gorgeous job on it.

So, I found some fabric in my collection that I thought might work, and started to cut out the pieces, WHILE hemming the sundress WHILE sewing on lost buttons WHILE layering We Can Fly in preparation for quilting it WHILE preparing Beautiful Beige for the applique work WHILE staring in dismay at my dishwasher.  (More on that later.)

It at least helped me begin to use up my fabric collection, which I really need to use up.  And while I was sorting through the bin of clothes fabric I found this amazingly lovely rose pattern, in either chiffon or silk or SOMETHING, a very light and sexy fabric ... with what looks like a muted grey/turquoise background ... (you’ll recall I had made the decision to reverse engineer a top in turquoise designed to match the moonstone ring?) and went, “Holy (bleep).”  I’d completely forgotten I had that before I went and bought the new fabric.  Need to measure it to see how much of it I have.

Unfortunately – it seems to be a veritable static electricity magnet, and it’s not even winter when static is typically an issue.  I had said I didn’t want it to cling – I hate the sensation of things that “cling”, drives me nuts – so I’m already trying to think of alternatives – i.e., like lining it, or using it as an overlay – that will minimize any static issues.

Also discovered I’d bought about 3 yards of a gorgeous fabric – heavy hand, brown with embroidery designs on it (also in brown, or perhaps black) – thinking:  I really need to find a beautiful dress pattern for this.  Don’t want to make it boring as a suit.  So I’m still cutting the pieces for the retro wrap around dress ... discovered I don’t have quite the full floor space for it, so it’s a challenge.

I’ve never eaten fiddlehead ferns before ... found some at the grocery store, and decided to try them – will sauté some up today and let you know how they taste.

C’era una volta
I suddenly realized that I had a counterpoint to the image of a soul mate as a Neanderthal ... the image I had of the two of us, roaming the grasslands together.  I loved that image when I first saw it; we’re such arrogant, self-righteous snots these days, we cannot conceive of our former selves in prehistoric times experiencing a full range of emotions, but that image showed me that we could and did.

The counterpoint was written recently; the experience of meeting someone for the first time that you’ve known and loved before.  You may not be bound together in this life, but you realize that it doesn’t matter – they’re still who they have always been, and you’re always connected with them at the soul level.  The reason I knew I’d hit the mark was that after writing it, I sat and read it aloud ... and discovered tears were running down my face.  Not of unhappiness; joyful tears of remembrance.

So, obviously, I’m working on that again, too ... I finally got the appointment with the neuro-muscular specialist, so I’m keeping myself busy until then.

Dishwasher:  I've had it installed for about a year and already both of the screws bolting it to the underside of the kitchen counter have fallen out - within a day of each other.  Just stared at the dislodged screws in amazement.  Now for the fun of trying to screw them both back in, thoroughly irritated that I need to do it.

Last:  Il Volo is now in competition for Eurovision 2015, representing Italy.  Their song?  Grande Amore, of course.  Today’s the big day.  And here they are, rehearsing – someone could probably fix their microphones before the finale – although the small imperfections in the rehearsal are why they have full dress rehearsals.  Can’t wait to see the final performance!

The Cowsills 50th Anniversary Concert, Il Volo Hits the 2 Million Mark; I Collapse

In one of those amazing synchronicities that always knock me flat when they happen:   I had a few cd’s on hand, ready to be imported into i-Tunes and listened to.  One of them was more of a curiosity than anything else, which is why I hadn’t rushed to get it loaded.  So I finally get around to throwing it in the drive, and start listening to the first cut.  Eyeballs popped open.  The entire concept of the first song was another version of my C’era una volta counterpoint to “Paradise Lost”, although perhaps darker than Volta, but the concept behind it was still unmistakable.  The first time I have ever heard anyone even come close to the concept.  First comment:  “Holy (bleep)!”

And the singer/songwriter?  Jason Cowsill (son of Bob), The Shape of the Journey cd.  I never expected it to be as good as it was, but it really was astonishing.  I should apologize to the guy for letting him sit on the “To be listened to when I get around to it” pile for so long.  Reminded me of Bill Miller, too -  and everyone knows Miller is a long-time favorite of mine.  Only wish:  that he’d printed the lyrics on the liner.  As it was, I had to sit there with one ear literally glued to the speaker to catch every word.  A bit annoying, actually.  But even so, it had me sitting there, seriously impressed with how close he came to the same vision I had of the birth of everything.  And all this time I had been thinking I was the only one who had that image of the REAL “big bang”, so to speak, in my mind.

And while I’m learning new things ... I learned an important piece of information about dandelion tea:  it can taste differently depending on who’s selling it to you.  Drank one batch of them from one supplier; just drank another cup from another one;  they tasted differently.  One tasted more “earthy” than the other, if that made sense.  Both tasted good; just ... different.  So, is that because the earth the dandelions were grown is has a different “flavor” to it?

Despite the fact that I woke up a few mornings ago to discover sleet, ice and snow all over the ground (you don’t know the details of my reaction to THAT discovery – none of it is appropriate for this blog), it seems to me that now is about the time to start growing the seeds in my little seed grower contraption.  You’re supposed to start them – depending on the plant – some 4 to 6 weeks before transplanting out of doors, so this is about right.

The Cutting Room - Epic Fail

The venue itself could have definitely handled it infinitely better than they did ... we stood outdoors on a long line on 32^nd Street for well over an hour before even coming anywhere near the front door.  By show time (7:00 p.m.) a huge swath of people were still outside, on a line, getting totally freaked out because they thought they were going to miss the start of the concert.  No one from the venue came outside to reassure us that the concert hadn’t started, and was delayed so that they could get everyone indoors.  One person asked about it at the front of the line, and the venue tried to blame the Cowsills for the late start – luckily, no one who knew the family and their discipline and professionalism bought THAT explanation even for a second.  You heard, “That’s bullsh*t!” all the way down the line when that was passed back.  Sorry, Cutting Room – absolutely no one bought your trying to blame The Cowsills for your screw-ups.  Just saying.

Our unilateral suspicion was that they had literally no idea how incredibly popular and beloved The Cowsills were, and were taken by complete surprise at the volume of people who showed up for the concert.  In fact, we all watched as one of the Cutting Room employees walked the sidewalk close to starting time, counting people and then walked back inside with a look of serious concern on his face.  An epic fail on the part of The Cutting Room.

But the Cowsills Themselves?

I would not have missed that concert for all the (pick one):  tea in China, olives in Tuscany, oranges in Valencia, pastries in Denmark, WHATEVER!  That much energy swirling around does all sorts of things to your emotional state ... and I’d been sitting at home, alone, in such isolation for so long, it was almost a shock to my system, not only being back home in New York City – which everyone knows is simply coursing with a powerful buzzing energy anyway - but being at that concert, on that month, on that day.  The emotional impact was exacerbated by the fact that the concert was held three years (minus two days) since my brother Jim died, also in New York ... so if you don’t think that didn’t impact me emotionally, think again.  A lot of emotional things coincided, all at once.  In short, while I basically held it together outwardly; inwardly, I was an emotional high wire, twanging at everything.

As for The Cowsills, THEY were perfect.  Absolutely perfect.  Pitch perfect, note perfect, set list perfect, banter perfect, the whole package.  The audience spent the entire concert in the palm of their (collective) hand, laughing, crying, singing along and loving every minute of it.  They faced a packed room of people who absolutely adored all of them, and would have sat there all night long, if the band wanted to keep going.  The concert felt like it was over way too soon – although they must have put in a good 90 minutes, if not longer, I was not wearing a watch – but I didn’t want it to end, that’s how good it was.  Here’s a small snippet – the one and only Cowsills singing “The Rain, The Park and Other Things” at the Cutting Room, sounding every bit as wonderful as they did when the song was first released.  I'll probably be babbling happily about this wonderful concert for months to come, it was that good.

Physically – well, that’s another story.

I should never have pushed myself to go, as I did.  Woke up this morning to dual leg spasms so bad I actually fell out of bed, crying out in pain, and pulled the contents of the nightstand down on top of me.  Throughout today, spasms all throughout my legs and feet, muscles around my shins are spasming and I know that was from constantly trying to keep my balance without the walker, which I couldn’t bring with me because I had a suitcase; numbness moved up to the backs of my knees and it wasn’t there before, back spasms, the works.

I have spent today going “WTF did I do to myself?”  I don’t even want to know what I did to myself.  Thank goodness I don’t see the physical therapist until Wednesday because he will want to know when this all changed, and I don’t want to tell him what I did to provoke it.  “Stood on lines for 2 hours trying to see and meet the Cowsills, leaning on a cane until I saw black spots before my eyes and knew I was about to faint?”, “I told you not to use the cane until I told you that you could use the cane; didn’t I tell you that?!”  “Yes, I know you did, but ... you don’t understand, I REALLY wanted to see the Cowsills."

I have no defense other than, “I really wanted to go, I’ve been waiting to see them perform live for 45 years!”  I know he won’t care; I’m either going to have to lie, or get railed up one side and down the other.  And I don’t want “She deliberately disobeyed my instructions!” on my permanent medical record.  Because that is exactly what I did.  I’ve been taking muscle relaxers all day to the point where I’m dizzy, and they’re not helping.  Taking Tylenol for the pain, and it’s not even making a dent.  And I can’t even complain about it because it’s my own fault; I did it to myself.  I have two days to make up a whopper of a lie, and I really don’t want to do that, either.  (“*Duh*, I dunno, I just woke up Monday morning, and it was like this; I don’t know what happened, it’s a mystery ...”)  Hopefully, he doesn’t read blogs.

I’m the first to admit I’m an idiot who should have known better.  But you have to understand ... I REALLY wanted to see The Cowsills!

Meanwhile, the boys from Il Volo just hit the 2 million mark with Grande Amore, surprising exactly no one because the song is so beautiful.

So there you have it:  a wonderful musical weekend followed by intense physical suffering.  Here’s hoping I get my physical act together before I get yelled at.  And I still don’t regret for one second finally seeing The Cowsills live for the first time in my life, but don’t tell my physical therapist I said that.

Grande Amore - Lyrics and Bob's Amazing Erotic Lilies in Golden Cups

Update:  I finally found the name of the songwriters who came up with the amazing song Grande Amore – Francesco Boccia and Ciro Esposito. 

Ahhh, and then life interferes with life sometimes …

After the EMG, my legs were twitching and jerking uncontrollably.  Went on for about five days.  All of a sudden, without warning:  [*JERK*!]  … the legs would go flying out in a weird direction.  I just stared at them, trying to make sense of it.  I thought perhaps my lower legs and feet were coming back to life.

Then the leg jerking stopped and they’re back to being dead again.  The regular muscle and tendon spasms have returned.  The physical therapist thinks less than one month before being back at work at full capacity is being too optimistic.  Next, my right foot inexplicably started turning in towards the left foot whenever I lifted it ... and the shuffling I had been able to do turned into a stumbling gait that scared the crap out of me.

Time to perhaps plan the rest of my life as a not too mobile disabled person?  Not quite sure how to do that.  I have always walked – have never been able NOT to walk.  Which is not to say I can’t stand on my feet and perambulate – I can – but I need a rolling walker in front of me and I shuffle at the pace of a snail – and now, I should say, stumble at the pace of a snail.  Not quite what I would call “walking.”

I worked on We Can Fly to keep myself distracted ... had fun with it actually.  First real bout of creativity I’ve had in a while.  Created as inspiration to get us  to New York City and the Cutting Room, despite mutual mobility issues – which now seems horrifyingly dubious given my recent stumbling issues.

Symbolism:  the four center “Wings of an Eagle” block.   Peacock:  Transforming the physical body into its potentiality.  Eagle: "Fly Higher."  Number 4:   endurance, mastery, building solid foundations, determination, hard work.  Grey fabric, black print fabric: nerve electrical impulses.  Red fabric:  intensity, passion, will power.  Green fabric:  spring, new growth, April.  Black/grey/white versus color:  “They clipped my wings, and I can't fly”, Gotta Get Away From It All , (Bob Cowsill, Bill Cowsill, Mary Dean); change in attitude from defeated to hopeful, awakening.  Asymmetrical borders:  partial disabilities.  Bluebirds:  cheerfulness, happiness, prosperity, good health, and the renewal of springtime.  “Bluebirds come up to guide us”, The Cowsills, We Can Fly, “Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly”, The Wizard of Oz. 

This is the center of it, minus the borders, batting, backing and quilting.  Right now it’s pinned to the wall, providing inspiration ... and waiting for some ... haven’t really decided what to do for borders yet.  Quotes are: 

Feet, what do I need you for when I have wings to fly? (Frida Kahlo)
Birds have wings; they're free; they can fly where they want, when they want. (Roger Tory Peterson)
Love and desire are the spirit's wings to great deeds. (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe)
I believe that if one always looked at the skies, one would end up with wings. (Gustave Flaubert)
There is nothing holier in this life of ours, than the first consciousness of love, the first fluttering of its silken wings.  (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)
They clipped my wings, and I can't fly.  (“Gotta Get Away From It All” , Bob Cowsill, Bill Cowsill, Mary Dean)
Nothing to tie us, bluebirds come up to guide us, When you're beside me, we can fly. (The Cowsills, We Can Fly)
Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly… (The Wizard of Oz)
Poor baby, try to feel better, Nothing's bad as it may seem, Poor baby under the weather, Try to close your eyes and dream (The Cowsills, Poor Baby)
I have been one acquainted with the night.  I have walked out in rain — and back in rain.  I have outwalked the furthest city light.... (Robert Frost)

Next project:  Let Beautiful Beige Come Into Your Mind.  Now THIS one ... the original idle thought was to just use the title and create a soothing monochrome art quilt ... even had a sketch of what I wanted drawn up.  And then I read the lyrics.  I mean, really read the lyrics.  Said, “Holy (bleep)!”  And all these years I had thought the song was about something else entirely.

A violet in the field is growing,
You're afraid to touch not knowing
That its petals cannot burn you,
Don't you think it's time you learn to love?
Your window sill is lined with lilies
And other white assorted sillies,
Planted within golden cups,
But is there any diff'rence up above?

Nice, sunshiny Cowsill-esque song, no?  Not hardly.  You have a young woman, afraid of the realities of love.  She’s out in a field, out in the wilds of nature, afraid of touching a violet (the color violet relates to the fantasy world, and a need to escape from the practicalities of life, the daydreamer escaping from reality) out of fear she’ll be “burned” by it.  At home, she has lilies lined up in “golden cups” on her windowsill.  Has anyone looked at a lily lately?

Generally speaking, a lily is “sex on a stem”, and always has symbolized just that:  artists have always used the lily to capture the erotic shape of male and female genitalia found within the one shape.  And these lilies are planted in “golden cups” – something of real value, coveted.  Not a vase, or a planter.  A cup.  Not just any cup – which is another word for the item men use to protect those same certain valuables they carry around with them – but a “golden cup” ... in other worse of the same color as the flower’s representation of the same item, and also valuable and coveted.  The singer is asking, “What is the real difference between the love you seek in the daydreams of your imagination or in the symbols of love on your windowsill (i.e. your view of the world), and the real thing?”  You may see things as either good or bad:

Black is black and white is white,
You're so hung up on day and night,
Is it that important to you?
Can't you let the dark come shinin' through?
A searchin' hand says come and greet me,
Be a friend and don't defeat me,
You say that the day is lighter,
I say that the stars can be bright too.

Actually I did those verses in reverse, but “I say that the stars can be bright too.” – what you see as something dark and fearful, can actually bring you as much pleasure as sunlight.  Or something along those lines.

Anyway, I looked at the primary lyricist and thought, “Wow, no wonder I thought he was so (bleeping) hot!”  Have no idea when Bob Cowsill came up with those lyrics, but I just sat here with my mouth open.  The song first appeared on their We Can Fly album (MGM Records – 1968), so he had to be – what?  Had to be 18? 19? And somehow that kid came up with an astoundingly erotic and adult love song.  How did he do that?  He was just out of high school!  Inspirational, too – I’m re-thinking the entire Beautiful Beige art concept into something far more Georgia O’Keefe-ish than monochromatic.

My PC also came down with a huge virus.  Not quite sure how it happened – I’m always extremely careful about clicking on unknown links without checking and vetting sources first.  But the weirdest thing happened:  all of a sudden, without having clicked on anything,  I get an IM message from the Kinks Official Fan Club:  “We have accepted your request to join us.”  I said, “Huh?  I never requested to join any Kinks Official Fan Club …”

… and then my mouse cursor went wonky on me, as though someone else had ahold of it and was trying to click elsewhere … I disconnected the cable, shut down immediately and took the PC to Staples – it was still under a service contract … being without my PC for 3 days was a major pain in the … well, I’m sure everyone has been there at one time or another. Then it turns out whatever scrubbing they did had disabled my online access, so I had to drag it back in ... such fun.  It also disabled my video converter, but when I re-downloaded THAT, I ended up with a Bing search page, which I can’t get rid of to save my life, no matter how many times I change the Home Page in the control panel.

There are days when I just hate computers in general.

Hair.  After the last nightmare with a haircut, when I ended up looking like the butch-est looking creature since Gertrude Stein and completely devastated, I haven’t had it cut since – and it strikes me as amazing that I haven’t had it cut in almost three years and it isn’t down to my waist yet.  It’s about halfway down my back.  I do need it cut, but ... what to do.  Shag, layered?  I have no idea what my hair will tolerate at this point – I know it definitely doesn’t hold a curl.  I was even thinking of a French braid or twist if I could figure out how to pull that off.

Crippled and Creative, Il Volo's Grande Amore and Bob Cowsill-Inspired Art

FINALLY – Il Volo released a new cd – I might even call this a mini-cd, as it only has 7 songs on it – recorded to be released in conjunction with their triumph in San Remo.  I hear that the version released in Italy has even more songs on it – and, to my dismay – the version of this on Amazon is sold out already!!  How is that possible?

The centerpiece of the cd is, of course, Grande Amore, winner of the 2015 San Remo Festival – I would also tell you who wrote the song, except this Amazon Prime cd download doesn’t have liner notes with it!  I’ll update once I have the cd in hand, and my apologies to the songwriter for not crediting him or her where due.

I think the guys just found their signature song .... to replace their original signature song, which was "O Sole Mio" ... a classic, to be sure, but I think it just got supplanted by this one.  A soaring, passionate, soul-stirring, absolutely magnificent song – as sung by three of the world’s most magnificent voices.  I’ve been sitting here, listening to it over and over again, totally in love with the song, the lyrics, the incredible passion of the delivery, the performance, the recording ... all of it.  Those guys just nailed this song.  Completely.

This is going to be a global blockbuster ... everywhere except the U.S. of course, because we are the world’s most ridiculous, arrogant, self-absorbed bunch of musically illiterate yahoos on the entire planet, unable to hear a word not sung in English without having a nervous breakdown ... all I can say is, thank goodness for the internet.  No, really.  I’s a lot of things, but mostly, it enabled those of us who long ago realized that mainstream American music was heading straight for the proverbial toilet, to escape the horror of it, and surround ourselves with actual MUSIC that lifted us into the stratosphere, where music was at its finest.

And there they are, from the Billboard International chart (digital):  #1 already, a week after the performance in San Remo.  And I would imagine that it will go viral in all of Europe, South America, Mexico ... all over the place.

Except here.  Because we just love wallowing in our own self-righteous idiocy and narcissism, and love drowning in the hideous crap this country produces and, in their feeblemindedness, tries to call label “music”.  It isn’t.  Never was.  Never will be.

So, way to go, Il Volo ...!  Grande Amore is absolutely awesome, and the entire rest of the world knows it.

The entertaining part of it is watching them on You Tube confront in their own country the same hysteria we saw in South America in 2013 – the screaming girls, the huge crowds of people – and Italy was pretty much the last country to recognize them, really – Italy tends to celebrate everyone else EXCEPT for their own native sons.  But they finally broke the Italian trend, and are now superstars in their own country – which I think is entertaining to watch.  Suffice it to say they are having a lot of fun over there, right now.  And hopefully, for my own listening pleasure, let’s hope they release a full-sized recording one of these days.  Seven songs just isn’t enough.

Moving on ... I went for the “legal tasering” – my term for the EMG, possibly one of the most sadistic, painful medical tests they can inflict on anybody – and I was so not looking forward to it. 

By way of keeping myself entertained and distracted, I’d been designing and making a new textile art wall hanging  based on “We Can Fly” - #2 in my stolen “Women With Wings” series ... my way of processing this supposed “Causa Equina Syndrome” the neurologist thinks I have – and the walking issues I definitely have. 

I am assuming the rest of my patterns and partially made textile art pieces were in the North Andover storage room, and now reside in the Salisbury storage room ... so until I can dig those back out, I’ve been creating new ones.  I can think of no better way to distract myself than creative endeavors, at the moment.  I finally bound my older “The Guitarist In-Between ” ... based on the famous quote from Federico Fellini: 

“What is an artist? A provincial who finds himself somewhere between a physical reality and a metaphysical one…. It’s this in-between that I’m calling a province, this frontier country between the tangible world and the intangible one—the realm of the artist.”

Yes, guess who THAT is named for – or, actually, dedicated to, I should say.  I dedicated it after watching him play “Rescue”, because that moment was so awesome it was truly a depiction of the interpretive creative process, at its core – the ability to tap into the unfathomable and create beauty from the ethereal.  I started that thing back in the 1980’s; have been carrying it around, unfinished, since then.  I’m astonished I finally got it done.  Not sure what will happen to that after I’m gone, but he will be immortalized on it, at least:  on his own, musically and lyrically and now also ... quilt-istically?

Today – a full moon in Virgo.  I reached the point with this medical issue that I needed direction.  Decided to tap into my subconscious with the Thoth deck.  Imagine my surprise when the final two cards I drew were both “Magus” cards.  Said, “Huh?”  Looked it up.  Apparently, there are a few decks which have three Magus cards instead of one – mine was apparently one of them.  The additional two cards were rejects by Crowley; considered novelty items in the deck, not part of the deck itself.  Usually, the Magus card had stood for Mr. Signpost – not sure what the two of them in succession meant, in this context.  I now associate him with both sigils and direction, so wondered if that’s where the reading was going.  I wasn’t sure what sigils would be useful, however.

And on to the sonnet cycle.  Experienced a huge burst of inspiration on that as well and went from stanza 3 to stanza 7 in a matter of days.  Not sure what all is happening with me – crippled and yet creatively fulfilled, at the same time?  What is that all about?

 I leave you with “The Time Has Come”, with Paul Cowsill singing lead for a change of pace.  Also:  Waddy Wachtel, John Cowsill of the Beach Boys on drums, Barry Cowsill in the hat and blue shirt on guitar, in one of his last appearances, and Susan Cowsill singing harmony vocals.