I’ve received some really incredible gifts and oddities over the years, but the box I opened from Adam this afternoon knocked me full-on legit speechless for at least a few minutes. I’m a nervous talker, so running out of sounds to make is a rare occurrence. I can’t really remember the last time I was rendered mute.
It contained a beautifully made devil-come-jackal marionette and the evidence of some character probing done behind my back under the casual scrutiny of a class of 6 year olds attached to a clipboard.
I can’t believe how cool this is. Thank you Adam x This is so much better some some poxy house painting. You win at gifts.
(Sammy is my favourite)
I can’t get over how nice my collectors are.
After emailing to let me know that he received his “Boo” and *Thuk* prints, Richard Gwynn asked if I might be at all interested in a perfectly bleached, picked-dry rabbit skull he found whilst out (adventuring) with his sons.
As Ideal Brown says “fuck, that’s nice of him”.
In less than a year my skull collection has gone from 0 to 4, including of the arrival of this;
At Christmas another delivery spontaneously arrived containing 3 boxes of poptarts (the only gluten related stomach ache really worth having) mint peeps, tootsie roll lollies and this terrifying thing. America is so good at confectionary. And Brad is so good at skulls (I feel it is worth noting that without Brad, my collection would be only half as big and varied)
Also: Aren’t boxes the best?
A combination of apathy towards my current music collection, laziness in trying to source new music and working with Spencer Hickman of Death Waltz has changed my niggling post-cinema thoughts of “I liked the sounds in that film” to “I want that soundtrack, right now, to actually listen to and enjoy because that is a reasonable want”
I’ve felt this way about a bunch of films recently, but most notably Sightseers had me hissing in my boyfriend’s earcheek “THISSOUNDRACK ISCOO” and it left an impression on me so lasting that I didn’t immediately forget it as I left the Tyneside Cinema. In fact, I wanted it (along with the Berberian Sound Studio) so badly that it was enough to make me finally want to sort out the gaping hole in my life that is the absence of a means to play vinyl.
I was like “Fuck. I want that soundtrack”
In a smooth Christmas move Ideal Brown and Cal sorted me right out and I am finally set to listen to my one record: the Let The Right One In OST.
Sadly the Sightseers soundtrack was sold out. Long sold out. Fuck, it’s red vinyl, limited to 150 copies with the cover work by Luke Insect and Kenn Gooddall acting under the title “Twins of Evil”. Of course it’s sold out.
And before anyone tells you that sitting on your arse and complaining about the things you cannot change is silly, I did just that on twitter a full two months after coming to terms with the fact that I had missed out when Luke Insect responded, suggesting an art swap. I nearly shat with delight.
After explaining just how impossible it was to get hold of, Ideal Brown jokingly asked the vinyl version of “would you eat a chicken to save another chicken?” and queried if I’d ever play such a collectible soundtrack. On a turntable I wanted purely so that I could listen to such a soundtrack.
Imagine that. Finally getting a record player and finding out I had access to a soundtrack I can’t source anywhere else – only to never listen to it, to keep it pristine.
Call me an asshole of the 80s who grew up with small shiny soulless rainbow discs, but it seems to me that there’s some degree of honour in playing the living shit out of your vinyl. No? Then once it’s truly dead, you frame it and hang it like the head of a great moose you messily shot that took ages to die.
I really scored with this as well. Fucking Eelus sent me a veritable goodie bag! The deal was to swap prints, but he sent me Legsy Levin (a screen print I’ve wanted since his first instagram of it in its infancy), one of his Don’t Panic posters, stickers AND a copy of Dog Milk.
I’m so stoked.
Thank you both! x
Yeah, man. I won these. In a competition *blows nails* – there’s really no credit due, it was in fact a Twitter giveaway and the winner was picked at random – BUT STILL. I was wildly astounded to hear that my retweet earned me two prints that I had already previously admired and wanted.
Von sent them to me last year (and Christ, I have to make a special note of how incredibly tidy his packing is. Unreal. Not even my teen experience as a holiday Christmas gift wrapper at my local mall could bring me up to standard. He could hold seminars on the topic)
I wanted to wait until I’d had them framed and hung before posting. Typically, it took me a few months to get them framed and then a few more to hang them. Eventually though, I did.
It turns out that besides losing water weight, Norovirus is good for one thing: all that lying on your back can instill a sense of such determination in a girl that reassessing her wall situation is the first thing she does once she’s back on her feet. At least, that’s how it worked out for me.
And wouldn’t you know it? I pulled down all the work that previously hung above the sofa (my sick place) and replaced them with these beauties. Now I’m all set for my next bought of seasonal illness. I can’t WAIT! (thanks, Von!)
No. But I was worried there, for a minute.
I can’t believe how nice people are.
He sent me photos of his other skulls and his collection is quite spectacular; “Macaque monkey, Grey Kangaroo, Black Bear, Tiger, Male Badger, Polecat and Hedgehog… not all roadkill”
I’ve met some lovely people. My internet friends. It’s twitter and working alone. If you can imagine being able to choose your colleagues, that’s more or less what it’s like.
Deciding to harass Dr Ben with a question about his taxidermy or the handling of the human dead is my equivalent to finding a reason to visit the stationery cupboard where Gladys sits, so we can have a giggle about what a turd we think our boss is. Except I don’t do it to break up the day. It’s more. You see? I’m tired. I don’t think I’m explaining myself very well.
I keep trying to write this post and I end up getting stuck. People are nice, is all. And I’ve found myself in an odd sort of gift exchange. It’s kind of weird, to express an interest in something and then to have someone ask for your shipping address. You feel grabby giving it, but don’t want to piss on such a nice gesture. And also, why not? It’s fun. I try to reciprocate, but my efforts are put to shame by comparison. It’s fun to send people things – but it’s turning into a challenge; something you want to get better at.
My latest parcel really surprised me. And it made me realise how badly I need to blog about these things. It got me thinking about the assortment of oddities that have turned up and I think they each deserves a post. I’ll have to start working my way backwards, but to start here’s what turned up in a box with cherry poptarts and mint girl scout cookies. It was the best day.