Wednesday, June 8, 2011

All around town with Heloise

Completely different flowers this time. I haven't done any embroidery in a year or something, but was pleased to remember lazy daisies and french knots. When I was a kid, I was incapable of learning the french knot. Oh how far we have come.

At first I thought this installation at Windsor was yet more contrived hipster bullshit (and it is), but it is pretty amusing to read them as you wait for the bathroom. They're all from the 80s and prior.

I've been meaning to find a ridiculous old stereo at Goodwill or something so that I can listen to my tapes again. I could get rid of almost anything, but I have held steadfastly to my tape collection. Can't get rid of any of them. After I moved, I tried to take an assessment. Lots of weird shit in there, and seventeen Cure tapes.

Anita and Kaveh's melted bricks in Albuquerque.


This is where my dad lived when he was a small child. This is a poor shot taken at noon, not very good. Except for the fence and the landscaping, it's just as it was in the 50s, and so I've always had a half-assed idea to sneak in and get some decent shots, since we have early photos of the house after it went up.

This is probably the fanciest house they had in Phoenix. It's on Central & Bethany, about the third house south of Bethany. It's goddamned gigantic and my grandma hated it. She came from a farm and had simple tastes. It wasn't the unnecessary sprawl of the house, or the need for hired help to keep it clean due to four children under the age of six, but the swimming pool. She was convinced that there would be a drowning unless they moved. My grandfather wouldn't put a fence around it because he felt that pool fences looked like shit.



Bear lives nextdoor to my grandma. Anyone looking for a sweet tween-aged Rottweiler? Bear's owner is a piece of shit. The dog is always outside. When I first saw him, he was friendly and desperate for attention. The last time I was there, when these photos were taken, he cowered as I approached. At ME, who has met him, and was approaching slowly while talking to him in my dog-voice. Motherfucker.

The owners are rarely home and the yard, which they share with my grandmother, is protected by a short fence that doesn't lock, so, yanno. Just saying, Bear is available for easy re-homing. I would probably take him myself, but I currently live in a small apartment with no yard. Oh, and three pre-existing animals, none of whom will be at all hospitable to this oafy playful dog.

3 comments:

Fashion Serial Killer said...

let's ask them to their face who is abusing their dog. I would love to see what they say. Call me and we'll go over there. It's ON!

Nick said...

My cassette tapes have been relegated to a milk crate in the garage. Fortunately they do get listened to semi regularly. Iron Maiden and the Dead Milkmen just don't sound the same in a digital format. Sigh.

B said...

Yeah, they really don't sound the same. I wonder what happened to my walkman...