For those of you who don’t want to read the whole post, here is the link the the article: I AM AWESOME
For those of you who have already seen this on Facebook or Instagram, I apologize. While I find it difficult to toot my own horn, I’d be a moron if I failed to post this in every outlet available to me (although I still don’t understand Twitter).
So, here it is. In today’s Style section of The New York Times, you will find a little article on page 9, right next to a giant Tommy Hilfiger ad. I am quoted as saying “If it’s funny, I’ll do it,” and I think that is my new life mantra. It probably was before, but now that it has been brought to my attention, I will work harder to employ it in every regard.
I also did two local shows here in Madison that I have been meaning to blog about. I’ll get to that after the holidays, because right now I’ll take some time to celebrate how incredibly wonderful, yet lucky, I am.
Until then, enjoy the rest of 2015. Here’s hoping 2016 is great for all of us, because we are all awesome and funny in our own way.
For three days I have had “Listen all y’all it’s Sabotage” in my head. Just that one line. It’s enough to drive me mad if I were not so in love with the Beastie Boys. Thus, I made another decorative fucking pillow.
I have done one Beastie Boys project before, and it tore me up because all the way through it I could only think of poor, dead, MCA, and how it still hurts my heart that he’s gone. This project felt a bit happier, a bit more upbeat, perhaps because one cannot watch the genius Sabotage video without smiling. Wigs, fake mustaches, aviator sunglasses, thrift store neckties, high kicks, walkie talkies, chasing perps – all within the first thirty seconds.
Admittedly, there are times when I’m stitching along and I stop and think, what the hell am I doing? I specifically remember thinking this when I was stitching Coolio’s braids a while back. I mean, it’s all so absurd. But then I watch something like Sabotage, with three grown men paying their personal homage to 70s crime drama, and I think, I’m having fun, that’s what the hell I’m doing. Somehow, I hope the Beastie Boys would approve.
Have you seen Coolio lately? He is still rocking a couple of the braids, despite a seriously receding hairline (some would call it “bald”). Does that make him any less legit? Hell no.
Even though Coolio hit the scene in the 80s, I did not become aware of him until the 90s, probably because I’m a poser. To make it worse, I replaced the word “cool” in my vocabulary with “coolio”. For example, “Those Timberland boots and grunge flannel you’re wearing are pretty coolio, man”. Did you do this, or am I that much of a dork?
Who cares. Everyone is a dork, and I laughed all the way through this project.
When I think of RUN DMC, I think of two things:
1. On 4/25/1997 at Hubbard Park in Iowa City, I saw RUN DMC perform. It was amazing. I’m pretty sure I was wearing my Adidas.
2. In March 2003, I drove from Point Pleasant Beach, NJ to Columbus, OH to visit a friend. On the way back, there was a hefty blizzard that I slogged through in my shitty little Hyundai Accent. It took me roughly 16 hours to make the trip home, and the entire way I listened to “Tricky” on repeat.
RUN DMC also reinforces Queens as my favorite borough. Ron Jeremy aside, only good things come out of Queens.
Although I’d like for this post to be clever and lighthearted, in true Beastie Boys fashion, this project made me cry like a baby. I thought two years would be enough time for me to get over MCA. I was wrong. I cried through the sketches with my Sharpie in hand. I cried through the transfer onto the dainty yellow napkins. I cried through every goddamn stitch. I even cried ironing them for the final photo.
All of this left me wondering what exactly the Beastie Boys mean to me. I can’t link them to a specific time and place the way I usually can with something sentimental. Instead, they’ve always just kind of been there in the background. Their lyrics have always popped up in my daily conversations. Their records have always been within easy reach of my stereo. Maybe that’s it – there hasn’t been one defining moment because they have always been there, growing up with me.
I thought this coastal feud tea towel set would be funny, although I realize 2pac is no laughing matter.
I remember when he died. The following conversation took place:
Friend: “Tupac was assassinated!”
Me: “What do you mean?”
Friend: “He was assassinated! In a drive-by!”
Me: “Oh. You mean he was murdered.”
Friend: “No. I mean he was assassinated. There is already talk of a conspiracy!”
Me: “Um. You might be over-thinking this…”
As for Biggie, I do not remember when he died. There must not have been an argument over semantics for him.