When Languishing was a paper thing, a zine you could hold in your hands (that would not appear properly on your iPod or iPad or iPoodle [great. now I want an iPoodle]), I LOVED getting comments from random people: I'd be introduced to someone, we'd chat a bit, and somehow it would come out that "Holy crap! You're the one who puts Languishing together? I've read every issue!" No lie. That happened to me. Twice. It was fantastic. When that happens now, though, I tend to get shy. The blog, somehow, feels more exposing. Maybe it's because there're more pictures of me and mine, or because it's more frequent (at it's height, paper Languishing came out just 6 times a year), or because I have met two or three people in the last 10 years that I hope to never see or hear from again, and being online reduces my invisibility to them (though at least one of them is still institutionalized, I'm pretty sure). (Do they have the interweb in institutional settings? I suppose it depends...). At any rate, in the end, I love hearing the words "I read about that on your blog..." Even if you think I'm a doofus, I'm glad to know you're reading.
Whew. I said all that to tell you that I got a compliment on a recent post today, and so I'm going to post more pictures of old crap from my mom's garage. See, if you hated that post and didn't tell me, I have only the compliment to go on. You can change the content of the internet if you just tell me what you like and what you don't like. In the end, this is your fault.
The titles are properly capitalized after each photo.
Chain and Metal Sheets
Calumet Baking Powder, et al
I love the greenish tint of the mason jars and the orange-brown of the tall bottle.
Garden Stakes, Fishing Net, Handsaw, Leaves.I adore how human hands cause wear on tools. The flash here obscures some of that, but I also like how my family just hangs all kinds of stuff from the same nail.
The brown glass bottle reads "Juicy Orange Brand" Orange Flavored Beverage Base. And as you can see, it has no pulp. The rock (or hunk of cement, I'm not sure) I had hoped was a skull: my father had a habit of bringing home animal bones, especially during spring plowing. Part of the joy of my May birthday was I got many a deer jaw as a gift. I call this one Hunting Knife.
There you have it, gentle readers. A second round of photos from one little garage in the heart of the Red River Valley.