Chickenlips Knitting

From a 1942 booklet of sweater patterns. Poofy hair...poofy shoulders...glad I was born during the postwar baby boom. I don't have to make sure things are, um, poofy before I leave the house for the day!

Song Lyrics

No knitting to display--I'm in one of those floundering modes tonight. I don't feel like working on any of my WIP's, and in a half-assed spurt of inspiration I cast on for a hat, but it looked like hammered shit, so I frogged it. (Hope you've got a good mental image there.) The juices are aflow, however, because my coworker Diana (for whom I've knit handwarmers and a scarf) told me about a pair of fingerless gauntlets she saw, which sounded fabulously goth diva. They were elbow length, knit of a thick/thin, "unspun" yarn (brings Manos del Uruguay to mind), and--get this--they were laced from about mid-forearm to elbow with a swath of tulle ribbon! It really got me tweakin' to go grab some Manos, jot down a few notes, and get knitting. Thank Mother Earth and Father Sky that tomorrow's Friday. Pagan and proud here, yo!

And scatterbrained, it seems. Inspired by a friend's proposed novel, sample chapters of which I'm going to get to read, (yay!!!) I began writing a memoir of sorts, of a specific time and place in my life. But since it's nowhere near ready to share, I'd like to put up lyrics by a band whose music has kept me putting one foot in front of the other on my journey since 1991--the year they released the following song, and incidentally, the year I took my first tentative steps toward a college education that did no less than take me to the other side of the world, and changed me forever.

The band is Rush, and the song is called "Bravado."

If we burn our wings flying too close to the sun
If the moment of glory is over before it's begun
If the dream is won, though everything is lost
We will pay the price, but we will not count the cost

When the dust has cleared, and victory denied
A summit too lofty, river a little too wide
If we keep our pride, though paradise is lost
We will pay the price, but we will not count the cost

And if the music stops, there's only the sound of the rain
All the hope and glory, all the sacrifice in vain
And if love remains, though everything is lost
We will pay the price, but we will not count the cost...