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  • welcome to the hole

    welcome to the hole

    Once upon a time, I kept a LiveJournal account, gryphons_hole, a deep, dark, comfy little hole in my brain where I kept notes on my life and queerness.

    This is the archive to that account, mostly password protected, adult, queer content, stripped of photo content after the site restructured its photo hosting feature. I hope to restore that content as well.

    If I know you, ask for the password. If I don’t, hope for a generous mood.

    08.18.24 I have realized a need to continue in this space. A kink reawaking if you will, with content that may range into inappropriate for my other blog spaces.

  • sunday style – the near miss edition


    This is fast because the Monday Style post, no…? I almost made it.
    Eh.

    I could also call this the gosh-late-new-year-formal-speakeasy-burly-Q-over-the-top-yay!-fun-stuff edition. *whew*

    I realized going into the night at Dr. Sketchy’s that with the exception of the fuzzy hat, the silk vest and sock garters the balance of the evening’s outfit was a result of the DAV stores. And this included many little pieces. Also the wide-collar overcoat I wore there.

    This week also demonstrates the growing pile of projects and details that I have been negligent in attacking…

    The jacket is the same as the one I wore during the pseudo-Valentine’s Day shoot with dakoopst. The buttons for the faux fur collar still are not installed. (gods but I hate sewing on buttons…) but I did use a whip stitch to hold it in place instead of pins… I would like to put in the buttons, so that I could swap the collar to any other coat it may fit.

    About the jacket… well, it is over-sized; too long in the sleeve, flimsy in the body and at least a bit ridiculous in the long body ( I mean, really, four buttons…?) But I do love the absurdity of it – in the proper context of course. Please, remember that I went to a combination speakeasy/sketching class/burlesque show. I think the coat fit perfectly.

    The scarf was a find! I landed a bag stuffed with three such linear scarves, a big square paisley-esque square of the sort mothers were so fond of draping about them in the early nineties, two red hankies, slick looking brown pocket square and an odd crocheted yellow potholder. Marked down to a buck forty eight, half off. I love Sundays.

    Another project in waiting: I haev been saving up those big scarves with the intent to cut and hem pocket squares. Some are large enough to yeild numerous squares with different pieces and colors. I may also cut a length from the diagonal of some to make pleated hatbands.

    As for what I will call the linaer scarves, this is the first time braving the application. they are girlie; they are frilling; they are sheer and fancy. they are perfect for the fey touch! This one, in particular, is quite handsome. I will brave this idea more in the future.

    Also, I should note about the color palette. I originally started all of this wishing to hold a tight palatte; one keen for a pasty Irishman. This outfit here shows none of that, but with the stipulation of budget thrifting at the DAV, I am picking instead the quality and fit I can find. Even still, the bulk of my closet is in the autumnal range…

    I think this is the first close-up I have gotten of this great fuzzy hat. It was a gift from kumazuki some while back… even still, I have a hard time capturing the details of black clothing. Eh. I will keep working on it…
    cut for image and text heavy post…

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  • Protected: one hundred twenty-four

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  • Protected: today

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  • Protected: continuation on a theme

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  • Protected: marking the new year

    Protected: marking the new year

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  • Protected: 2008 in review – the naughty edition

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  • Protected: the slow catch up

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  • sunday style – the I-was-travelling-sunday-and-LJ-was-stupid-tuesday wednesday edition

    LJ won’t let me add and-I-have-no-photos-’cause-they-are-all-too-dark… I should have listened to <bearshunting> (who spends way too little time on LJ these days…) and left on the big blinding light. So I will offer a tip I learned over my trip home.

    I packed up six pair of trousers that needed the hems let out. I may never land a pair with the cuffs still in tact, but that extra fabric also a proper length on my thirty-five inch inseam. I brought them along because my little iron rots in its steam capacity and wouldn’t take out the crease at the original hemline.

    My mom is a (mostly retired) drapery-maker. She has a sweet set-up in the basement: a line of various machines run the length of a massive counter top alongside the entire basement of their house; industrial straight-stitcher, bonuser, tacker, pleater, surger and – important for this post – blind-stitcher.

    But first, the tip of the post: removing pressed-creases. I remember growing up, when my mom would make all her own clothes to stay on budget. She was a *gasp* stretch-pant mother. I seem to have survived well enough for the trauma of it all. I remember her using something to press in the seam on the double-knit slacks… so I asked her.

    White vinegar and water. Yes, Ladies, not only will it keep you fresh down there but it sets in your creases! Fabulous! As it turns out, it also removes them. I used a 3:1 water/vinegar mix and dabbed it on with an old washcloth.

    Afterward, my mom was kind enough to hem them at a proper length. Back to the blind-stitcher. I cannot use the blind-stitcher. I have yet to use it correctly. Evar!

    *sigh*

    Good thing I line jackets with fur and lace and such. I am keeping the card, Betches!

    The blind-stitcher: it has two speeds – go and not-go. Go best translates as hyper-speed. I have yet to manage to keep the fabric feeding in at the proper spot. Plus, if the machine is stopped at the wrong point, the thread unravels as it is removed from the presser-foot.

    This is why I have a mother…

    Yay! Mom.

  • the holiday at home

    It is a good break, a good holiday and a good vacation. I have dined with my immediate family and snacked and caught up with my three oldest friendships. Well, oldest continuous friendships…

    It is mixed though…

    I need to backtrack for some things, since I haven’t been so open in these entries of late.

    Mostly: my dad. He has been between hospitals and nursing facilities since the family campout over labor Weekend. The nursing care is rehabilitation, both physical and occupational, so he can care for himself when he comes back home. I will have to offer more details about this later. I keep getting lost in his condition…

    I am sleeping in his room. His room was an addition to their three bedroom ranch (circa early 1960s – our house was just like all those model train houses…) It has a handicap shower stall (thanks to my mom’s impressive foresight) and his bed, sitting furniture and big flat screen television.

    His bed is a hospital bed. Yes, exactly a hospital bed. His cellulitis requires he sleeps with his feet elevated.

    I suppose my odd mood flashes started on the drive home. It hit me that my life is coming full circle in how it interacts with the generations of my family. My dad needs to be maneuvered in and out of a car. I did it tonight bring him home with my mom, just like I did it all those times with my sisters for his mother when I was a teenager. It is a curious sensation to note this loop.

    When I went back to his room for bed, it started sweeping over me, I was a bit creeped out from various directions. It is exactly a hospital bed. When I pulled back the covers and climbed in, the vinyl mattress cover creaked. As I pulled the covers over me, I was back in the hospital; central line running into my heart and chemo agents pumping into the line. My parents home faded away from me and the hospital room in the BMT ward replaced it. I wasn’t so unnerved as curious, like I was fully aware of both realities as they overlayed each other. I knew where I was, but my memories were play out over time of the reality of it. Once I fell to sleep, I was fine and got plenty of rest. Honestly, as awful as chemo was, I always slept well in the hospital… All those constant hums and vibrations…? They soothe me… my perfect kind of white noise.

    From there, I was fine until the nursing home. My paternal grandmother’s last years were in one that left a clearing lasting mark on my brain. I have to keep all my walls up inside those places. So much comes at me at once. Very. Overwhelming. My parents want me to go back tomorrow for a visit. I want to spend time with my dad, but they want me to go upstairs and meet my dad’s former roommate that was just moved. It didn’t take me long to decipher the way everyone paused before saying “He was moved upstairs today…” “…upstairs…?” “Yes…. upstairs….”

    Upstairs is the permanent assited living. there is no return home from upstairs. And he just got moved there. He had no idea he was being moved there. And I have no idea who this man is. And my parents want my to meet him. *sigh* It will take most of tomorrow evening to recover. This is an area that most definitely brings up my introvert. It exhausts me…

    I had my typical panic just before the gift exchange. I know… we don’t do gift exchanges. Well, mom and dad get each of us something. And everyone still shops for the nieces. They are only teenagers. And every year when I breathe a sigh of relief that we no longer exchange gifts, I always forget the nieces… and then the holiday spiral begins. I am happy to say I recovered it nicely. I brought a lot of books with me this trips that I have bound at work – that I grabbed extra copies of as samples of my work there. We recently bound a children’s book, obvious for a younger audience than my nieces, but it is incredibly cute and involves green thoughts about living. As it turns out my sister and her partner just turned their house over green in a big way. So score one for the lucky-ass favorite uncle. (As a note, I have the on-going favorite uncle spot since I am the only member of the family big enough to still pick both of them up at the same time. They are 16 and 14. I always win points for the feat.)

    In all, I had a series of moments I was not expecting at all. A few hit me but I recovered quickly and pretty wholly. Nothing at all was close to as typically devastating as I have allowed the holidays to be in the past.

    Yay! for that.
     

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  • and… arrived

    My family is not always the best at clear communication. We were the worst example of that telephone game. Or maybe the best.

    I am home in good old Solon, Ohio. I missed my dad; he has returned to the nursing home for the night. He was upset that he didn’t get to see me, but – the thing is – I didn’t have the impression I was trying to get home that early today. He will be here tomorrow, when the entire family is here, which is what I was aiming for all along. My mom got it a bit wrong and passed it along and then he got it a bit more wrong. So on and so on it goes…

    I am told he is recovering well. If he gets to a certain point, the surgeon will go through with the knee replacement, which will get him more mobility again, eventually. Even with his diabetes, the doctors think he has a good chance of recovery. I am a bit hesitant in it, but it will be exactly whatever it will be. I am concerned. I still don’t think he has changed habits; in this case, meaning that he will work to get better, just better enough to get by and then let it all slide again…

    I want him to change, but that is his pattern. He has followed it most of my lifetime.

    I love him, but I can’t ride his roller coaster any more. I will wait for him on the park bench over by the coaster’s exit. It’s even in the shade.

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