Three years

Three years have now passed
Since we said our alohas,
Still we miss you so.

Sloppy, stale, or simply brilliant

I don't remember having the book Goodnight Moon read to me as a child. However, having a little lady around who is closing in on two years has given me ample opportuity to read, listen to, and critique this classic piece of american children's literature. I have to say that during my first read, the page pictured above threw me for quite a loop. I cannot recall, but i would not be at all surprised if my jaw were left hanging just inches above the floor in the same manner as i find it after a typical episode of Breaking Bad... but i digress.

Initially, i had made up my mind that this page was the result of either A.) The author, margaret wise brown's imagination had run dry and she could think of no other things to say goodnight to, or B.) The illustrator, clement hurd had missed a deadline leaving the book a page short forcing brown, in all of her sheer brilliance, to adjust the text accordingly. Either way, this page had to have come into existence by pure chance due to the shortcomings of someone involved in its composition. Never did it occur to me that hidden among the mush and mittens of this beloved poem was a profound statement which had been placed very intentionally for minds both young and olde to ponder. With every subsequent read, i am left increasingly bewildered as this arguably blank page with her bold typeface existential statement aggravate my soul and haunt my subconscious.

As this is the case, i was once again left with this phrase camping out in the back of my mind following another visit to the great green room. Immediately, as any decent hipster living in the twenty first century would do, i tweetered these two merciless words as they burrowed deeper and deeper into the recesses of my cerebral cortex.

@hlaveta: Goodnight nobody.

Soon after, an olde friend named mike made me aware of the fact that in a sixtieth anniversary reprint of the book, a photo of her illustrator was doctored to remove a cigarette from between his fingers.

Here now was my response:

Mr. redelman, i am quite impressed by your historical insights regarding the renowned, if not controversial illustrator, clement hurd. After some treacherous research - aka googling his name - i stumbled upon the photo in question. While harper-collins' efforts at removing the cigarette from mr. hurds fingers may have prevented hundreds upon thousands of children from taking up smoking, they neglected to realize that their alteration of the photo now depicted a man who appears to have just picked his nose and is unsure of what to do with his findings.

We have harper-collins to blame for generations of children who are tragically addicted to picking their noses.

Shame on you, harper-collins.

Shame.

Tonight i'm gonna drink my tears

What does one do at a quarter after one in the morning after watching the theatrical version of blade runner on netflix? Don't you dare ask me a question when we're both very aware of the obvious answer. The person in question - namely me - cues up the scott walker documentary, scott walker: 30 century man, of course.

I've had the film in our netflix instant queue almost since we started using their delightful services almost a year ago. What i knew about scott walker was the song "30 century man" from his third solo album. How i knew the song was from its inclusion in the soundtrack to a film which i admire quite a bit. That film is the life aquatic with steve zissou. Wes anderson seems to have a way of turning me on to incredible artists whom i otherwise have had very little to no history with (i.e. arthur lee & love). Come to find out that scott walker is really scott engel and was one third of the pop trio known far and wide, but mostly in the UK and germany as the walker brothers. It also just so happens that he's a pretty enigmatic avant-garde musician and an incredibly abstract poet who pushes well beyond the conventions of song composition.

"I've become the Orson Welles of the record industry. People want to take me to lunch, but nobody wants to finance the picture...I keep hoping that when I make a record, I'll be asked to make another one. I keep hoping that if I can make a series of three records, then I can progress and do different things each time. But when I have to get it up once every 10 years... it's a tough way to work." -Scott Walker, in an interview for The Independent, April 1995.

All this to say, i am now listening to a fair share of baroque pop.

Also, watch all of the films mentioned in this post.

Also, here's some early solo scott as he digs on jacques brel's "matilde" during a performance on dusty's variety show...

http://www.scottwalkerfilm.com/blog/

Fueled by imaginary coffee

Upon returning from a week's worth of chills, thrills, and spills, we've been up to our oglers in projects which all seem to be hanging over our heads as we wait for corresponding information to be delivered. While circling in our perpetual holding pattern, we've found time to crank out a few shirts promoting bear advocacy (read more hither). Also, we took the time to develop a new app available for most mobile devices (hang tight and wait for the big reveal at the end of the post).

How do we find the energy? Answer: cups and cups upon saucers of imaginary coffee compliments of miss Baby Jane.

Now, for the payoff...

A sign of what's to come

Why yes it has been about a minute since i've contributed a handful of nouns and verbs to this here blogosphere. Per chance we've been hopping, skipping, and jumping up and down the midwest in search of five-pound bags of gummi worms. Also, quite possibly the dream of acquiring a five-pound bag of gummi worms has indeed become a reality. And what if i told you that a great deal of the contents of that aforementioned five-pound bag of gummi worms has since gone to a better place - namely my belly. I have recently realized that a five-pound bag of gummi worms leads only to a series of unsavory decisions which are not without their consequences.

And since we're on the subject of father's day, mine was delightful thank you. I spent the whole day with them Jane gals. Here's what happened: Strange brew for breakfast, Children's museum (where we won a major award for tying in a rock trivia game - pictured above), Boogie burger for lunch, Ducks by the river, Half price books (where we ran into our friends the jacksons, yes those jacksons), and home for a big bowl of broccoli. Yup, broccoli. That's how i celebrate, y'all.

Later on (aka today), whilst loitering in the aisles of a bed, bath and beyond, i found myself settling deep into a shiatsu massage dealt out by a gyrating robo-chair. And no, it wasn't nearly as sexy as i'm certain it sounds. I can completely understand how 87% of all massage-related deaths are the result of overly aggressive robo-rubdown chairs. Needless to say, i was left feeling simultaneously deeply relaxed and slightly dirty. And yes, that is exactly as sexy as i'm certain it sounds. I then stumbled like a dude pretending to be more drunk than he actually is into an aisle full of vanity mirrors. Naturally, i felt right at home and began staring deep into an 8X magnification mirror. "Why on God's green earth would anyone need to see themselves up this closely," i didn't think to myself but am pretending to have thought for the sake of moving the story along. "And when did i start growing nose hairs?"

That's right, nose hairs. Real, true-to-life, honest-to-God nose hairs were scoping the lay of the land just outside my nostrils. When did this happen? Should i see this as a sign of things to come? Should i have these rogue follicles transplanted to my upper lip in attempts at manufacturing a slightly more impressive stache?

I think i'll just let these dudes find their own identity for the time being.

Bear Advocacy

Hot off the presses from The Mustard Room is THE BEAR, available now at our ETSY shoppe.

Ah yes, that age olde question regarding bears and sharks and who would survive in a battle between the two has often been the instigator of fiery debate between friends and colleagues alike. Now you can add fuel to the inferno by quitting your waffling ways and taking the side of the oft underestimated bear with this stylish yet bold statement. Howard Zinn said that you can't be neutral on a moving train. We're pretty sure he was talking about bears and sharks.

Dell-ightful

Dell-ectable

Dell-icious

Summer Sweat Shoppe

After some garage sale organization and the relocation of a few items of interest, The Mustard Room has set up shoppe in the garage for some summer projects including, but not limited to...

Drifter's Escape

When the journey is long and harrowing, and the stakes are higher than a hepcat, a breath of fresh hare can soothe the most savage of beasts. What does it all mean? Who are we to say? Chin up olde pal and your piper's pleasing pitch will probably promise a paranormal puppy for you to purge. Proper.

Now available on Etsy.com