Famous, Infamous, Soul-less and Sew-less..

Silly people who use their anonymous blog account to reply to a pseudonym's blog don't remain anonymous for long. Bah! Who needs to be anonymous anyway. A wise person once pointed out that nobody on the interwebs is really real anyways. Our blogs are a carefully constructed pastiche of our real selves, parading around like we are deep, insightful and have something valuable to share with the world wide web. If you, like me, consider my ramblings insightful, meaningful, and of value, or you are just a bit bored, then please continue reading. I'll try to make it interesting.

I made a guest star appearance in one of my favourite blogs recently. I was once told by one of those 'beautiful and she knows it' types that you are nobody until you're talked about. I am somebody now. For good or for bad I am not convinced but give me a few more cups of coffee, make me listen to a few more lousy customer service reps trying to communicate with labotomised customers and I could yet turn my fame and success into world domination.

If only my new found fame was accompanied by fortune. And by that I don't mean good luck, I mean cold hard cash. I'm not ashamed to admit I heart capitalism, I heart material things, I heart beautiful things and I am not really satisfied by minimalism (which I hear is going out of fashion and is due to return in 10 years time when the economy is booming again and people have money to spend on large portions of nothing much at all). If I had more money then perhaps I could replace the dearly departed with something new and shiny....

My hard working comrade died a slow death today. No it wasn't a person (they can't always be replaced by shiny things). My 30 something year old faithful sewing machine that has aided me in my endeavors to revolutionise the meaning of the word 'craft' sewed its last peice of material today. Actually it didn't sew it at all, wherein lies the problem. Perhaps it had something to do with me feeding paper and cardboard through it, or forcing it to use that thick heavy denim cotton. Or perhaps it was the plastic shower curtain I used it to hem. It may well be fixable but I can no longer justify spending just as much on repairs as I would a brand new sewing machine. Maybe my sewing-challenged mother will offer up hers until I find a replacement. Maybe I should tell her I have a blog so she gets the hint.

To those I promised lovely hand-made (by hand made I mean I made them with my sewing machine) gifts for the holiday season, you could be waiting a while. On the bright side, I am forced to find other ways to express myself and continue to create those cheap but invaluable masterpeices I palm off as presents. Perhaps the easel will make a comeback before the year is out. Time to moisten the brushes and dust off the palette.

R.I.P Mr Empisal Fee Arm Deluxe. Your cream and silver exterior and Harlow Italic font will be sorely missed.

Sincerely Sad,

Jessie MC
Black Is Not A Colour