it’s the time of year again when men put on their bow ties and shiny leather shoes and gather up to poke their polished balls into some deep velvety holes, bending over backwards to get the position just right, crafting every thrust with precision only attainable through years of practice. for characters like “the rocket” and “the captain” failing or running out of steam is not an option. they will pound through 35 rounds of sheer sweaty excitement to see who’s boss and who’s.. well, the bitch.
i’m just gonna end this retarded analogy now.
turns out watching snooker and knitting makes even the douchiest life infinitely more tolerable. that and getting some global-ass support from people who are under no obligation to even care. so i thank you all in the most non-clever and non-sarcastic way i know how.
and now back to some actual knitting.
i don’t have much to say about this cowl though, except that it’s utterly, utterly sweet and awesome. it drapes exactly as i wanted and i dare say the color suits me, sir. i wouldn’t have said that a year ago, but as it happens i’ve recently matured and can now wear whatever the hell i want.
and spring’s here too, that belated bastard. i’ve always figured you can’t really truly appreciate spring unless you’ve clawed your way through seven months of winter first. the first day you go out and the wind doesn’t slaughter you like some cosmic chainsaw, when it actually caresses you instead of withering away your last remaining breath of hope, that’s when you feel alive again.
and you skip along, humming as you go, squinting at the piercing rays of light and greeting every bird and bug and blob of color like you’ve just got out from the cave from the descent, and happily ignore the fact that approximately four months later some creepy bearded woodsman will yank you right back down again and throw you at the mercy of the drooling albino monsters your fellow men have become because of their chronic deprivation of sunlight, human compassion and dental hygiene.
|pictured: me. yesterday morning.|
but until then you’re sort of, kind of, fine. and baby, it feels good.