My Stash

I'm taking inventory of the vintage fabric stash before I store it away for awhile.  Feast your eyes (sorry about the wrinkles):


Just Shove It

I don't like the way customer service people talk nowadays. 
From a recent Comcast "help" chat transcript:
Clifford: Oh, thank you for correcting me, B. 
Clifford: I'm sorry for the inconvenience this has caused you. I don't want this to happen on my service too. 
Clifford: You have reached the best person to assist you and thank you for bringing this to our attention. 
Clifford: After we look into your issue, I’d love to look at your account to ensure you are getting the best value for the services you have. 
Clifford: Would you mind waiting for 2-3 minutes while I pull up your account first so that I can check the status of your equipment?
Clifford, I think we can agree that there is no value in us BS-ing each other.  


A Practice in Self-Restraint

It's been a couple weeks now so it's probably safe to write about it here.

Recently, my pal E and I took a no-shopping challenge. I don't think we are the first people to do this, but we are probably the raddest. Kidding. I actually got the idea after doing a closet purge (that's what they call it when you go through all of your stuff and get rid of things you no longer wear like last year's peacock prints or whatever) and was confused and frightened by the amount of crap I had. I did an online search and saw a bunch of fashion bloggers that vowed to not purchase any new clothes for one year.   The idea is that we all probably already have enough stuff in our closets to get us through four seasons (or more - I even have some items that would get me through the Pacific Crest Trail, a week-long aerobic competition, and probably a run for Governor in a small state). Most people were able to do it. Although many of those gals had really nice Frye boots....

I might not have started a blog about the no-shopping if weren't for E jumping on board, but here we are with No New Duds. Sure, part of this was motivated by these tough economic times, but some of it we see as a creative challenge and mostly - at the emotional core of this endeavor is the quest for The Apple Shirt.

The concept is inspired by E's dad who has a very select number of shirts, he has worn one of them, an apple-print shirt, for seventeen years. And after seventeen years it still brightens everyone's day. It brings him power and provides power to those around him. We got to thinking, how can we find our powerful apple shirt if we are too busy cycling in a consumer trap?

So it is a vision quest and a test of will. We agreed to NOT thrift shop either. We're just going to see what we can come up with what we already have in our closets. We have made it two weeks, we are alive and clothed so far, but E is already starting to spray paint shoes and I'm developing a twitch in my online shopping finger.

You can read more and follow those adventures here.  Words of encouragement and shoe-painting ideas welcome.

More to come!

*note: I am well aware that some people are like NBD! Shopping is LAME anyway, but you must understand that as an oppressed female manipulated by the barrage of unobtainable standards in modern cultural messaging, it is very hard for me to not buy the latest shape of t-shirt or bootie without being convinced I will be shunned by my friends and family and people that I don't even give a crap about. 


I Am Promising You A Rose Garden

Had lunch at the Memphis Botanic Garden today.  If you stare at roses long enough they seem  extraterrestrial and ancient all at the same time. And I love them for that because I want people to think the same thing when they stare at my face.  (maybe replace "ancient" with timeless - that's kinder)


An Old Forest

In Overton Park there is a forest that is so old it is known as The Old Forest. My friends and I always take walks around the perimeter of the forest sticking to the paved trails mostly because, through the strength of gossip and rumor, the forest is known for unsavory activities.

There is also something about a true forest, a place where the ground is covered in twigs and moss and fallen trunks and branches and sprouting mushrooms and decaying animal bones, and where you can only see the sky through small patches between the tall trees and canopies of grape vines and ivy, that kind of activates the imagination.

The rumors are not unwarranted. I have been on walks and come across a few professionals wearing spike heels on their way in to "hike" the forest. There have been a few times I've had to scoot out of the park because of cop cars and BMX bandits. But like many complex things, I always knew the forest couldn't be all bad, an organic thing is not just one static thing after all.

I've been rather intrigued by it ever since one of the rumors led me to believe it was the biggest or oldest or most magnificent or maybe most original or greenest Old Growth Forest this side of the Mississippi. I just hadn't been brave enough to enter the forest alone. Until I found out that a nice local group gives bi-monthly forest trail talks and I went on one a few weeks ago.

The innards of the forest did not disappoint - I can confirm that there is indeed a mystical fern gully fairy land right in the middle of Midtown Memphis. The whole thing is ruled by this six-foot rat snake:

I may still be a bit weary of skipping in there alone without some kind of saber or chainmail, but I really really have a new appreciation for the Old Forest. It is beautiful.


See ya Tree

I won't be satisfied until I have a dozen time lapse cameras. I'm obsessed with them. You have to appreciate anything that messes with our experience of time. It's the very base reason that we love photography and film is it not? Kino eye forevah.

And in light of that, here are are some hard working dudes I stalked while they taking down a tree:

Tree Tops and Bottoms from Sara Kaye on Vimeo.


Can't read, can't hear

I wanted to make a comment on my friend's blog and tried three times to enter the alpha-numerical captcha code and failed. I can't read those things! Wavy numbers smashed between ghosty m's and n's? What's the point? So I clicked on the "audio" version and discovered a whole new inspiration for noiserock:

Captcha Audio Help is Not Helpful from Sara Kaye on Vimeo.