Part of the World Domination Plan involves a complete Zeichen Press website redesign. Just imagine our new logo in living, breathing, MOVING, technicolor! Oh, the anticipation dizzies me. My prop shopping list includes a wig and a man. …I guess my husband could be the man… Lord knows he’d love the attention. Especially the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
My friend Fred started photographing our product line. It’s a Fair Trade – just like when the Indians traded Manhattan for wampum.
If anyone is left please contact me. I have locked myself in the furnace room and my rations are dwindling. I am eating Panko Japanese Style Breading with a dirty popsicle stick and telling myself it’s Lik-A-Stix. Mmmmm, Lik-A-Stix…
If I were getting married I would design and letterpress print my own invitation.
What am I saying?? No, I wouldn’t. I don’t even send out the Christmas cards that I design and letterpress print. WHAT??!! I know. This is a blog post and a confession.
2. Inspired by the couple’s romantic first meeting in the city of love, designer Fran Shea blended imagery from Paris with a vintage postcard theme to create a classic yet distinctive invite. Using letterpress printing and a unique accordion layout, this design evokes an aura of chic French elegance. Zeichen Press, 612.432.1943, zeichenpress.com
It was everything I imagined. Except better, because of the chicken shots. Yum!
Mary Bruno organized the event in honor of Amos Kennedy’s timely arrival. As far as I could tell, Amos is not related to THE Kennedy family. There were certain clues, like: He did not share that distinctive/made up accentor that glamorous head of hair. Also, he is black.
Anyway, Amos was there and we hugged like old friends. There was much talk, naturally, of printing presses. Mary Bruno ended up breaking a beer bottle and using it as a weapon – apparently her “street cred” was at stake. Boy was I glad to get out of there with only minor injuries. I wish I could say the same for Jen. Please send flowers and meals to our headquarters.
Two St. Paul printers showed up : Fred Petters of Vandalia Street Press and Bill Moran of Blinc Publishing. Bill was nice. Fred ate off of other people’s plates. I could go on and on but why should I when I have this amazing photograph that perfectly captured the evening?
Oh, the joy of leaning over a giant machine that has the potential to crush my hands and create such beauty!
I think I felt joy. Or panic? In any case, I felt some sort of feeling while leaning over the New Press. Karl (the previous owner) had explained, really clearly, the 1,000 things to know – why couldn’t I remember them?? Knobs, pulls, blades, grippers, clutch levers, friskets, sucker bars, rollers, toggles, gears, pins, springs… they all seemed to get tangled up in my mind.
Oh, so tangled!
Just like a rat king.
That’s what happens when the tail of one thought gets covered in feces and the tail of another thought gets stuck to it… and the tail of another thought gets stuck to the other thoughts. It’s all very messy and usually ends up in some Dutch chimney.
I think we would totally have been friends in high school. She would have called us “top-secret friends”. I was told (by my “top-secret friends”) that “top-secret friends” are better than regular friends. Sure, they don’t go anywhere in public with you, or sit next to you at lunch, or acknowledge your presence – but, that doesn’t mean anything.
The odyssey began exactly three and a half miles West of the Mississippi during what would later be called “Friday.” No need for an alarm to be set because rising at 4am comes so naturally to me – getting a jump on the day makes me feel like a dynamo.
First legs of journeys are often fueled by earnestness and without vigilance, that fuel can turn to ennui. (ahn-wee)
Ennui can turn to desperation and when mixed with starvation, can lead to tragedy. Remember the Chilean rugby team? Their plane crashed in the Andes and they ate each other. Survival and cannibalism are in cahoots, everyone knows that.
Our airline didn’t want that blood on their hands so they loaded us up with a rib-sticking breakfast.
Our plane did land safely on the ground and we were stuffed into a sweat lodge/taxi-cab that smelled like thousands of weary travelers. (Curry + pine tree + urine).
I don’t remember my own birth but I bet it felt similar to exiting the taxi – the crying, the relief, the hotel cradling me in it’s arms.
Like good tourists, we went right from the hotel to the subway. Now I know that when I go to Purgatory (and I know I will) it will look, feel, and smell like the subway.
It will make heaven even more glorious.
Because traveling underground on a train isn’t strange enough, the subway was filled with hundreds of boozed-up Santas.
And because my touristy feet were killing me, I had to go to the T.J. Maxx on Wall street to buy slippers. I did see the Occupy Wall Street people and asked them if they wanted to occupy T.J. Maxx with me but they (all five of them) looked at me like I was crazy.
Oh, we also walked across the Brooklyn Bridge. Has anyone seen that thing? It’s pretty cool and people should really be aware of it.
Don’t I look serious? I didn’t crack a smile all day.
It’s hard to put a price tag on joy and laughter, but we did: $10.
Actually, four cards for $10. This, and Jen not wearing a top, made our shoppers more giddy than usual.
The Zeichen Press booth was a beacon of laughter bobbing in the sea of wrist-warmers, nose-rings, and ironic Christmas sweaters.
I hid behind our card racks for two days and talked to Jen about important things like iron lungs and Santa Clause while our customers snort-laughed (my favorite kind of laugh). There was even a gal that was laughing so hard she had to stamp her foot on the floor. Those responses made me feel like this:
And I think Jen felt like this:
Finally, a man came up to us and told us all about human exoskeletons. (See blog post #390: Freak-Magnet) Eventually, he rode away on a unicorn.
What I guess I’m trying to say is that the No Coast Craft-O-Rama was, once again, awesome.
PS: No show would be complete without a little danger and ours came in the form of an icy, yet beautiful, drive home.
Jen and I were trying to enjoy the wholesome spirit of the annual Book Arts festival
when Winter walked into the party, tracked snow on the floor, didn’t laugh at my jokes, and clogged the toilet. I wasn’t surprised.
To keep up morale, I invented a pack-less backpack and inflatable underpants. For some reason, this reminded Jen to tell me my fortune. She made one of these:
and filled it with “fortunes.” But I don’t really think they were fortunes.
If only I could play an instrument or sing or get along with a group of people, I would release an album full of music. I can’t do any of those things and so I stand
in my Fortress of Solitude and name imaginary albums. This has been going on for, like, 20 years. Here are a few:
• Liar, You’ve Never Seen the Moon
• Please Don’t Drive Away, My Leg is Hanging Out of the Car
• Why Don’t You Need My Wagon?
• That’s Not Cake (Don’t Eat it)
• He Tries To Control Me With His Eggrolls
And so on.
I will eventually take it a step further and design the album art – a band will come to me and select one and most likely it will go double platinum. I’m pretty sure that’s the way it works.
—
My sister’s wedding was on Saturday
and I cried like a baby because I felt nostalgic. My sister used to watch Lamb Chop’s Play-Along and I really miss Sherry Lewis.
After the ceremony, I dried my eyes and went to the party. There was a lot of drinking and a lot of dancing. And this album cover was created:
I think it would be good for a funk metal group or maybe spoken word.
The intern packed up her carpetbag and rode away. I felt like we should hug but we didn’t – hugs are best left out of print shops. She made this before she left:
Go, my young grasshopper, go and use the life-skills I so generously shared with you.
I regret not jumping into Lake Superior last week. I’m kidding, I don’t regret that. I regret not pushing that weird guy into Lake Superior last week. He was yelling, “the effing dog ate my pills! The effing dog ate my pills!” That poor wiener dog was trying to end its own sad life. Anyway, here’s a photo of Lucy and Jenny braving the frigid waters:
Lake Superior is the poor man’s ocean, just like my Reprex
(notice the vice grips)
is the poor man’s Vandercook.
But I must make do.
I must make do because that’s how I was programmed. The project du jour is a print involving lots of words. And because I’m a daredevil, I decided to lock up the type in a vertical formation. This is not for the faint of heart. The type and I both felt creepy when it was over and now we can’t even make eye contact.
The third instructional video is complete for the Jelly Shot Test Kitchen. If only children could drink alcohol these would be perfect for a Summer birthday party.
I have noticed that a lot of people around me have “plans” and “schedules.” That is something I’ve always wanted. Even my days of “working outside of the home” seemed haphazardous. I never knew if or how I’d get to work – would it be the city bus? My friend’s pick-up truck? A ride from a stranger? On foot? A police escort? Would I be able to pull-off a cup of coffee before work? Everyone talked about that – the coffee. “Whew, I barely had time for my coffee this morning, the dog just wouldn’t do his business!” They had coffee pots with timers – they’d wake up to the smell and sound of a fresh brewing pot. They’d fill their travel mugs and commute to work.
Why couldn’t I be like these people?
My snooze button (invented by the devil) would be pushed at least twice, granting me temporary amnesty – more time to dream about using inappropriately located toilets. A shower could happen but more than likely would not. Teeth brushed just in time to smoke a cigarette and tie my son’s shoes.
I know what you’re thinking: Glamorous.
A few weeks ago, I started doing the unthinkable: Waking up early and not forcing myself to fall back to sleep.
I actually get out of bed.
I get out of bed, make a smoothie filled with micro-nutrients and whole-food concentrate and go for a bike ride. It seems that other people DO THIS TOO. The paths are full of “others.”
I haven’t decided if I hate myself for being one of these people. Time will tell.
Anyway, number 7 of the Shea 8 will be getting married this Summer and she needed a program – I gladly volunteered and these were created yesterday:
They will contain a disc of music from the ceremony. Understated and cool. Just like my sister. Notice my crummy thumbnail in the upper-left.
in living, breathing, MOVING, technicolor! Oh, the anticipation dizzies me. My prop shopping list includes a wig and a man. …I guess my husband could be the man… Lord knows he’d love the attention. Especially the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
and I cried like a baby because I felt nostalgic. My sister used to watch Lamb Chop’s Play-Along and I really miss Sherry Lewis.
