An Awesome Sandwich

That's what today wound-up being after a shaky start-- two tasty slices of awesome filled with satisfying awesomeness.

The shaky start involved gaining two more pounds for no apparent reason. It's like my butt fat has only now caught on I've been slowly trying to kill it over the last year and is making a last desperate bid for survival. Clearly it doesn't know who it's dealing with. It will not win. I jumped right out of bed into my running shoes. Take that ass fat!

So this was the sight that greeted my at 8 a.m. -- not bad huh?

That's the access road for the mountain bike trail I run. It's 7 1/2 miles of twisting hilly awesomeness -- see? I only run about 4 or 5 of it.

Some sections are more hair-raising that others...

This is one of my favorite sections. The whole thing is built on what used to be the town dump, so for a scrap metal hound like me it's basically a dream come true. This part they just went with the whole junk theme, even using some kind of metal machinery in the trail itself, embedding it into the ground.

This of course peaked my interest and sure enough, not very far off the trail-- jackpot!
I'll be back with gloves and help hauling away some of this "score", possibly under cover of night.

I know some of you are like, "running-- ugh!", but once you get to a level of fitness where you can do it, it really is a high, and check out the trail! It's a good incentive.

With a trail this nice so close to home, full of weird rusted out crap for me to scavenge,
my ass fat doesn't have a prayer.

That brings me to the tasty filling. Work (welding in the driveway) went way better today.

Yesterday, it was windy, and cold, and dried leaves kept blowing into my work area and catching on fire which really pisses me off-- and the wind kept messing with my welds. This incurs my wrath and there was much muttering of profanity under my breath because the neighbors were home. Also, Dan informed me I may as well stop deluding myself, my soon to be shop won't be finished in time to do me any good at all as far as preparing for this next show (Nov 8th) goes.

I've been feeling apprehensive about the economy and how it will affect sales. Art isn't exactly food. Usually I feel wealthy people stay wealthy and aren't really affected by the economic ups and downs, but right now it's kind of a different deal. So I've been trying to think of inexpensive items. I thought these cute birds would be a "crank out" item. It took me all day to make 8 because of all the damned SLAG. Booo.

Since I don't actually live in a third world country (yet), this item isn't practical for me to pursue any further

Today I was like-- "Screw it." I needed to just look around and see what grabbed me and go with it. What would make sense would be coming up with another quickie, cheap item to sell, but not everything makes sense. Just look at Dan Auerbach's total, devastating, fictional crush on me-- sometimes you just have to go with your gut even if it makes no sense at all.

On that note-- Check out this awesome steel. I'm told they're engine mounts. (whateve's)
Look at that great color, and the rust! Be still my heart!

The engine mounts will turn into something for sure, but in the meantime this--

Became this--

Which will turn into some variation of this-- (stained glass added in)

So what completed the awesome sandwich? -- It turned out to be a gorgeous day. I hope everyone capitalized on it because it was probably the last almost 70 degree day we're gonna' have for months. Trusty Pam is back in town, and me, her, and Dan went on a final kayak run on the upper Mississippi tonight. It was an unexpected gift to say the least, oh yeah, and, "Take that-- two times-- ass fat -- In your face!"

Open Call For Positive Vibes...

Hey everybody. This is my dad - Jack. The woman behind him is my mom. They've been married for fifty-one years. He's a cool guy, super active, and he's always been a really good dad. He's having some health issues now and I'd like it if everyone could just send him some positive energy in whatever form you like- prayers, just thinking healing thoughts, whatever. I believe this stuff all comes from the same source, however you package it, and is all helpful.
So, thanks, in advance. :)

As for "Fav Lyrics Friday", check out Beck's "Orphans. It's not as long as some, and more poetic than some, not so much of a story, but a really cool and catchy song off his latest album Modern Guilt. As always it's most enjoyable to listen to the song play as you read along, so email subscribers click on the title "the slag hammer" and go right to my actual blog. It's at the top of the player.

Enjoy your weekend! Remember to shake something at some point.

Think I'm stranded but I don't know where
I got this diamond I don't know how to shine
In the sun where the dark winds wail
And these children leave their rulers behind
As we cross ten leagues from a rubicon
The matchsticks for my bones
If we can learn how to freeze ourselves alive
We can learn to leave these burdens to burn

Cast out these creatures of woe
Who shatter themselves
Fighting the fire with your bare hands

Now my journey takes me further south
I want to hear what the blind men sing
With their fossils and their gypsy bones
I'll stand beside myself so I'm not alone
And how can I make new again what rusts every time it rains
And the rain it comes and floods our lungs
We're just orphans in a tidal wave's wake

If I wake up and see my maker coming
With all of his crimson and his iron desire
We'll drag the streets with the baggage of longing
To be loved or destroyed
From a void to a grain of sand in your hand

Axman -- Disturbia Wonderland

Tucked amid muffler repair and pawn shops and fast food restaurants on University Ave in St. Paul you will find one of the Twin Cities' treasure troves of weirdness-- Axman Surplus. Not Axeman, Axman. It squats un-apologetically on its corner, clad in a dingy nondescript glass storefront, but you get some indication you're in for some high octane distrubia when you see this in the front window-- (as always, click pics for bigger wierdage)

And then this greets you right inside the entrance...

You are far more likely to run into owners of the complete boxed set of "The Lone Gunmen -- The Only Season" here than latte clutching designery types. Their employees are either furtive hard core geeks or students at Subversity University, and when not plotting world domination, yes, nerds are often hilarious. They appear to spend untold hours creating handmade signs for the weird stuff they sell there. These alone are worth the trip.
Linda, also a disturbia observer and fan, often accompanies me on these missions. She's quite enthusiastic as you can see, and a willing model. Thanks Linda! This was the "hat" the sign above referred to. It was posted above a stack of dog dishes... (Yes- that's a hazmat suit in the background)

Be armageddon ready for only twenty bucks...

These kind of go with the "Sparkle Vision" post....

As bizarre as this place is, it's kind of comfortingly "St. Paul" too-- nothing fancy,
actually kind of in your face not fancy.

You can spend hours looking around. This is an ancient T.V. camera.
They also have an old iron lung.

Who knows what this thing is/ was, but they've dubbed it the "widow maker".
Works for me.

If you're serious about your evil-genius-ing, you probably already know about this place.
In the back half of the store palid nerds of every flavor (black dickie wearing hipsters and slightly crazy looking polyester-clad twitchy dudes) avoid eye contact and dart between aisles of technical --er-- whatevers.

I'm pretty sure if you knew how, you could build an army of robots with just what they have in stock. As you can read, "resistance is futile".

They do low tech too, and do it with enthusiasm.

Calamari anyone?

When I saw these I was frightened and almost refused to walk down this aisle, but Linda calmed me. The only thing scarier than math is crazy-ass giganto math!

This doesn't even begin to cover the disturbia unveiled at this location. Look for another post soon featuring an old favorite -- dolls (shudder!) Remember I accept submissions from you guys too. Keep those eyes disturbingly peeled!

On an unrelated note, apparently being sick for a week-- not running and subsisting mainly on dry cheerios and chicken soup had the same effect on my ass that pulling the cord has on an inflatable raft. Not fair! Somehow I gained 4 lbs! Mark my words fat cells-- (insert threatening trademark finger twist here) you won't get away with this. Wipe that smirk off your faces!

Moooooo

The first batch arrived today!

(Click for a bigger view) these are the one's for my art site. The Slag Hammer ones should arrive tomorrow or the next day. Stay tuned....

Sparkle Vision

Anyone know what an ocular migraine is? Let me walk you through it:

You begin to notice an area of your vision is blocked by a bright sparkly area, sort of as if you'd just looked right at a light bulb, but you haven't.

As the area expands you grow more alarmed, holding your hands in front of you trying to see around the weird sparkly area. You think, "Crap, last night I accidentally looked right at that light bulb and it wasn't just any old bulb. It was that big honking sodium vapor bulb in my soon to be shop. What if I actually fried like half my rods or cones or whatever is in your eye that makes you see? Crap! Crap!"

Then you contemplate the possibility that you may have some exotic fast acting eye disease and you are actually going blind this very minute. You think about how tragic everyone will find this especially since you are an artist and suddenly panic about how stupid your hair will look now for the rest of your life, as surely no one will be able to figure out how to make it look normal or really care. I mean they could easily just tell you it looks awesome. You nearly chastise yourself for being so vain, but screw it, these are just your own private thoughts. You imagine trusty Pam, a former hairstylist, raking your hair severely off to one side and jamming a barrette into place saying gruffly, "Oh for crying out loud! It looks fine! You should be glad you even have hair. Quit being such a baby." You look like Bette Davis as Sweet Baby Jane, but nuttier.

Then as the sparkly area begins to close around your frame of vision, limiting it to an area slightly smaller than looking through a paper towel tube and becomes more "shattery" looking, like mirror fragments, you remember this has happened before. The first time it did the nurse at nurseline thought you were having a stroke. You go to the mirror and smile, peering through the sparkles to make sure both sides of your mouth go up. Check.

While at the mirror you notice a hair growing out of your nostril. Not sexy, not at all. You become distracted by this and decide to pull it out with a pair of tweezers. Upon doing this you immediately wish you were an actress and could possibly turn the resulting tear into an academy award winning performance and practice making "sad Oscar face."

Ocular migraines make can you slightly disoriented, partly because it's disconcerting having your vision so messed up, but also I'm pretty sure something is wacking-out in your noggin. You start to wonder about this and devise a little cognitive quiz for yourself. -- Quick, what's your dentist's name? You don't know. Is that weird? Do you usually know this? You keep his number under "D" in your rolodex listed under "Dentist". You probably never remember this even when normal. Quick-- What do you want for lunch today? You can't decide. Is this unusual? You decide probably not.

You know from experience unless you lay down, and, ideally, sleep for about a half hour this will become a splitting headache (think unanthesthitised dental work, somehow performed behind your eyeballs) in about an hour, so you lay down. When you get up about an hour later everything is back to normal and you decide to make your whole blog post today about this, and write it in the seldom used second person. How many chances like that do you get?

Ok-- I'll cut it out now. Happy to say I'm all normal now-- for me. Also, thanks everyone who put their two cents in on the last post. I've decided to leave it "The Slag Hammer" for now, but have made a few minor changes to my layout. You like?

De-lurk And Weigh In

Ok people-- I'm having an identity crisis. I'm thinking of renaming the blog. I'd still leave this one up I suppose, unless I could figure out how to move all the old content, but it would just be an archive and new stuff would appear under the new name.

Why?-- Feisty as my whole "get over your genitalia" post "What A Tool" was, I'm wondering if I may be tilting at windmills, and also, if maybe since most people probably don't know what the hay a slag hammer is there is some kind of amorphous connotation attached to it.

The new name I'm considering is "Sue Seeger's Adventures In Bohemia". It has my name, and doesn't pigeonhole my creative "whatever" to any particular bent. (I am open to suggestions too...) The content would be the same as it is now.

I REALLY want opinions on this, so even if you don't have a blogger I.D., or can't remember it or figure it out, comment anonymously. Don't let me hear crickets on this ok? Thanks!

EDIT TO ADD: -- "Dough!" Turns out Bohemia isn't a mythical land inhabited exclusively by artists, musicians, writers, and other miscreants, but the entire, real-life, western section of the Czech Republic, so even my proposed new name is problematic. (right? -- or not? see-- total identity crisis possibly related to being all doped-up on cold medication.) The floor is now officially open for suggestions and opinions. Maybe-- Sue Seeger's Jamtastic Writery Weld-O-Rama? Sue Seeger's Bohemian Adventures? Sue Seeger-- Adverbishly Venturing? Help me out people.

"Report To Sickbay"

(Insert prolonged annoying groaning sound here.)
Booooooo. I have a cold. While I realize this isn't Polio, or some other more horrible affliction, it still sucks. Hard. I HATE being sick. I'm not sure if I'm a bigger baby than Dan or if I actually get worse bugs, but I don't seem to just get a runny nose-- it becomes this whole Dickensian death's door shmoopiness. Booooooo.

I still managed to put on an impressively energetic shower performance of "Live in skin" (check it out in the player) by my beloved Foo Fighters, complete with pointing and lots of costly (moan) head whipping. "I'm amazed that i'm still standing and I demand that we all blend in..." Hey-- I owe it to my pretend public. Oppressive shmoopiness be damned.

Since my own characters have gone on hiatus, I've found myself craving the words of others. That's another upside of working at my visual art-- plenty of time to listen. So today it was New Yorker fiction podcast day. Awesome. I think I need to check out Chekhov. I've avoided him in the past, thinking he was too remote and collegiate or highbrow for me, but little snippets I've stumbled upon have really intrigued me. I need to be fearless and see what he can teach me. There was a short story by Nobokov that was pretty kick ass too.