is nostapinne-ing a word?

August 22, 2018

that’s what i’m doing.
while listening to “ravi shankar
in san francisco,”

no less.

what will you become, little ball?


June 6, 2018

knitting fam, i need your help.

i got some solid knitting done on my flight

(obligatory knitting on tray table pic)

suddenly, i found myself past
the halfway point
on the lace

buuut. i’m worried
there may be
a problem.

when i stretch out the shawl, it’s…tough.

to stretch that is.

i’m worried this thing is going to be a dud,
and that i won’t know till i’m done.

those of you who’ve made circular shawls, have any of them ended up not blocking flat?? can the center bubble up like some kind of weird alien lace permaboob?

i find myself regretting
talking so much shit
about certain

this karma.

s&m wednesday

May 16, 2018

those estonians must be some freaks in bed
because how else can we explain the existence of the nupp?
it’s the most frustrating stitch.

and yet…here i sit.
knitting away.
working these nupps.
DPP_3320just call me the nupp gimp.

i have to say
it was nice to be a part of the knitternet™ golden age.
coming back only underscores how that time is ovah!
all these blogs i loved are just gone,
one is now a potential malware purveyor,
or at least that’s what my browser told me.

do people still write about knitting?
do people still knit?

ch ch ch changes

May 10, 2018

life has changed a lot since i first got into knitting.
i’m living with a guy i’m kinda into (sh!).
i moved to a new state (ma).
i got a phd (blah blah).

and yet,
i find myself particularly adrift at the moment;
i have zero idea where my life is going.
so of course,
rather than figure that out
why not start knitting again?
and then write about it on a blog no one reads!
cuz that’s productive.

i dug this bad boy out of the depths of the big plastic wip container:
IMG_3490 pattern: permafrost yarn: blue moon bfl sport in “in the navy”

things i’ve found while knitting this bad boy:
i can still read lace (thank god, or i’d be fucked).
i have much less confidence and am therefore slower.

but that moment
you know the one
when you get in the groove
and everything seems to fall away
(a famous yet secretly shitty knitter said something
about how knitting changes brainwaves à la meditation)
well today,
i had the moment
and it felt pretty fucking good.

so maybe i’ll keep knitting this thing.
and maybe the person i started knitting it for
waaaaaaaaaay back in 2013
will actually get it!

on philando castile

June 22, 2017

as a queer person in this world,
there are so many
and places
where i don’t feel

in those times and
in those places, i know that,
if i keep my mouth closed
if pay attention to my walk
if don’t hold my boyfriend’s hand
i’ll likely get from a to b

most of the time.

when i walk police, i’m terrified.

i’m terrified.

because i know the history of the police and queer people.
i know what they do to us if given the chance.


i legitimately wonder with disturbing regularity:
if i need help
can i call them?
should i call them?
will they help me?
or will they be worse than the men chasing me?

flip a coin.

the reality is
when i walk past police (terrified, always)
my experience is

they look right through me; i’m not even there.

because they don’t see me as a threat, they don’t even see me.
because a big white dude
walking down the street
is almost never a problem in their eyes,
though we know the reality of that
is quite different.

with rare exceptions,
an african american can’t hide their blackness.
and all evidence seems to suggest that
all police can see when they see a black person
is a potential threat.

and, apparently, we keep telling them
that fear is justified.
fire away.
you’re right to be afraid.
you’re allowed to defend yourself against fear
using your gun
on anyone
with impunity.

if they’re black.

i don’t know what we can do
as a nation
(as a world, really) to
fight end racism
fight end white supremacy
to stop seeing danger in black and brown skin.
i have no solutions and
if change it possible
(if! such hopelessness that proposition creates in me)
it will take many many more generations.

which breaks my heart.

because what that means is, now,
black people won’t know safety in america.
black bodies
will continue
to pile up
while my white neighbors see nothing
do nothing

over and over
as my heart is destroyed
surrounded by the injustice
of being more
than you.

oh hey

June 18, 2017

it would seem 
that i’m knitting again.
fancy that. 
(thanks for the yarn, stacie!)

i used to be catholic

October 17, 2016

or so i tell myself.
it’s one of those things that sticks
like honey, even after you’ve sucked it
off your fingers. it’s still

i’m catholic in that
i know when someone misquotes the bible
(or uses the wrong bible to quote)
or doesn’t know when something’s
a metaphor.

i’m catholic in that
i won’t go to mass anymore
not because i don’t believe (which i don’t)
but because they changed
the words.

“and also with your spirit”
is such bullshit.

i digress.

as i get older,
catholicism (what a horrid-sounding word)
reemerges, like a memory
you’ve forgotten until
you smell it.

today, it was forgiveness.
to forgive, i was taught, is not
for the other person;
it’s for

that’s a lesson that never made any fucking sense,
one to which i certainly never subscribed instead
simply snipping from view
assholes and liars and

“all people are generally good”
is such bullshit.


some deacon just got his wings, i guess,
(though, only metaphorically, of course)
cuz it’s kind of true what they said.
about forgiveness, anyway. and i feel


January 21, 2016

the great thing about friends
is they give you permission
to breathe.

or in this, particular case
an opportunity,
an excuse.

so many “reasons”
(excuses, really)
kept me from knitting.

but then, a perfect storm:
rhinebeck and

(there’s another ingredient, a catalyst,
but i can’t write about
can i?)

i made a hat.IMG_1668IMG_1667and then another.
and another.

(apparently, there’s a shawl happening, too.)

and somehow, suddenly,
i’m a knitter again.
thanks, anna.

and my kingdom as great.

You have no power over me.

R.I.P., Goblin King