Yes, Jacob. No, Edward.

But more importantly, thanks to Alice, I've discovered Failblog. It makes my days brighter. It's sort of like absurdist theater. I'm reminded of Samuel Beckett and Rosencrantz-era Tom Stoppard.

And thanks to Matt, I discovered Voxtrot a few (a couple?) of years ago. And not only does Voxtrot have an awesome podcast with videos and mixtapes and covers and live recordings, but they introduced me to the Takeaway Concerts (known to others as Concerts a Emporter). Honestly, there's nothing cooler than awesome bands performing songs live on the streets of Paris. Even if the bands weren't cool, the whole recording live videos on the streets of Paris is cool enough.

When did Heroes become a horror show and less of a superhero show? Not that I dislike horror, but I don't expect Hannibal Lecter horror on primetime television.

And I am back to preferring Jacob Black.

Time for a revision...maybe Jacob Black isn't the right one, says the girl on page 269. And slowly, the inappropriate crush on the fictional character is waning. But I still don't like Edward all that much.

Bella Swan is an idiot

Now, this is all I can say while on page 238 of New Moon. Bella Swan is truly an idiot. Okay, I get the whole obsession with the insanely beautiful, impossibly perfect Edward, but when there's a nice, sweet kid that you like spending time with and who doesn't want to suck your blood, why would anyone mope over Edward? Seriously. Maybe I'm the minority, but I actually think Edward's a bit annoying. All this "I love you, but I'm too dangerous, you should stay away from me, but here I'm going to kiss you because you're still there" crap irritates me. Not to mention that Bella's an idiot on all points that involve Edward and Jacob. And to anyone who cares for the opinion of a girl on page 238 of New Moon, Jacob is the right one. Although, considering that Bella is this much of an idiot (hiking alone when she shouldn't and her father just asked her not to?), Jacob's perfect for someone else, someone not an idiot in love with a vampire who ditched her. I'm renaming my Clapotis "Bella Swan is an idiot", as I'm knitting that while reading (the things I'm crocheting require more focus).

My sister tells me that Then She Found Me, the movie, is virtually nothing like the book. So, while I liked the movie (although, there's another character who doesn't deserve the perfection she screws over), she fumes over it because she doesn't understand why an ex-husband had to be invented and why pregnancy needed to be an issue.

What else? I'm severely behind on projects because someone keeps allowing me to start new ones. I haven't bought yarn in over three weeks, and I only thought about buying yarn six times in the last week. I made a tomato basil soup that was lovely, but the sister says isn't as good as Boudin's, but we both acknowledge that I had no idea what I was doing. And I have an inappropriate crush on a fictional character: Jacob Black. I hope I'm not the only one.

Oh, Alaska in Winter is so fucking awesome. And I am saying this as a total Zach Condon junkie, but really if there was a soundtrack to my life and way of thinking, "Dance Party in the Balkans" would be it. And if you were wondering, Zach Condon is another inappropriate crush I have, but he's too talented not to adore, so you can't judge me. If I didn't love him, it would be wrong on many levels.

I AM GOING TO TAKE A CLASS FROM CAT BORDHI!

Okay, so, I'm sure others have taken classes from her before, I mean she is the queen of thinking of innovative knitting, so I can't assume that I'm the first. But the thing is, I am a crocheter who knits. When I think of yarn, I think of crochet. I knit for reasons I'm not sure I understand because I realized a couple of weeks ago that the soothing effect crocheting has on me does not translate to knitting. In the end, I think it's that if I make a mistake in crochet, it's not the end of the world, but in knitting, I could lose everything (I'm just not as confident). But a knitting class from a knitting master! There's a part of me that acknowledges that if I didn't knit on occasion that I might have learned how to knit just to take one of her classes.

And if you are actually reading and are actually interested, I am taking the Moebius Basket class at the Yarn Boutique in Lafayette, California.

Plainsong with fringe

Plainsong was lovely. I highly recommend it. Highly. It's that sort of quiet and easy story that just seeps into you. It's the kind of story that makes you forget the obsessive love story of a teenager and a vampire. I almost don't want to go back to the Twilight series.

On the issue of new TV shows...Fringe. I'm not sure that I'll stay with the show, but I do know that Joshua Jackson is still adorable, and that soft spot I had for Pacey remains. I think I actually missed him.

I miss Twilight. I am sticking to my decision to take a break, but it hurts, which of course makes it sound like I don't like Plainsong, which isn't true. Plainsong is a quiet story and I like quiet stories.* But I miss the intensity of Twilight, the rush of the words.

Otherwise, it's a bitch working on big projects that feel like they'll never be done. I have two afghans wanting to be finished, a sweater I need to fix the collar on, hats that failed miserably, two afghans I need to start, a scarf to finish, the Clapotis, the things I'm forgetting, and the charity stuff for work. I need to learn not to start stuff before I finish other things.

And in honor of the Yarn Harlot's time in London, here's another photo of a bit of London. No crazy apocalyptic skies, but a building with bright red brick, brighter than any brick I've grown accustomed to here. (And if you are one of those people who want to know where this building is, it was on the walk from Kensington Palace to the Queensway station [which is one of my mom's dreaded stations because of the elevator] along Bayswater Road.)



*Quiet stories remind me of when a creative writing professor** mentioned that I didn't have much going on in my stories, and I still wonder what I was supposed to do. I argued that not all stories should have something crazy to them, but I don't think she liked my argument. Then again, I didn't like her stories, so it's sort of fitting. And what sort of person assigns her own stories as a reading assignment for a creative writing course? Honestly?

**Speaking of college, I think my freshman counselor (a senior at the time) is one of the writers of Four Christmases. Everything indicates it's him, but no distinct proof (unless there's something in the alumni magazine I rarely read if they aren't writing about the new completely sustainable building on campus).