I had this big post on arena rock all scribbled out here on an index card (Levenger, of course). Spontaneously came to me earlier this evening, after Bee sent me some “Dust In The Wind” on YouTube. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t so spontaneous, then. Whatever.

But you know what? I’m not gonna post it. Like the arena rock era itself, the moment has passed. However, Shannon’s classic TMCM Journey / Steve Perry sequence is immortal, in my memory as well as my heart, so I’ll leave you with that.

It’s been a blurry two weeks. So blurry that I’m reaching out for arena rock. But it’s a good kind of blurry. Lots of writing, both paid and to-be-sold-later and to-be-given-to-patient-artists things. Slow going, but making progress.

Watched GARDEN STATE. Twice. Was charmed. Working my way through Christmas gifts. That’s knitted Christmas gifts, don’t you know. And speaking of which, let me introduce you to the BEST YARN STORE EVER:

Brooklyn General Store

Because I don’t have enough hobbies in my life (actually, for much more Deep and Meaningful for Art and Craft and Witchery reasons, but I won’t carry on about all that at 2:30 am), I’ve decided to give in and spin. As in, spinning. As in, make my own yarn.

Yes. I know. Don’t start with me.

You’re probably not going to believe this, but Leland has been gently pushing the big wheel thing on me for a couple of years now. Like comics, I’ve resisted due to time and, now, disposable income restraints. But, like comics, my resistance slowly wore down, then snapped. The fact that one of the coven girls is a spinning freak master didn’t help.

So off I went to get a drop spindle. Small steps, all that.

“You have to go to Williamsburg,” the Coven Spinning Freak said. “Williamsburg is the only place that carries drop spindles.”

“Oh, geez,” I said. “At least I can hit up Trader Joe’s on the way home.”

But it was not to be. I don’t know how I found Brooklyn General online, but I thought, “Hrm. Red Hook. Yarn. I love Red Hook, I love yarn.” And I waylaid myself to what has turned out to be the biggest, baddest craft joint this side of my beloved Great White North. (And there are a lot of badass craft joints up there, lemme tell ya.) I mean, short of P& S Fabrics on Lower Broadway, may she rest in peace.

Fabric. Notions. Buttons. Ribbon. Patterns. Of course, yarn. Notebooks, for crying out loud. Brittany double-pointed sock needles (which are the best needles in the world for reducing hats because they’re shorter and thereby less sticky-outy-pain-in-the-ass). And — the most precious resource of all for crafters here in the city — space, and lots of it.

Oh yeah. And they had drop spindles and roving, thus saving me a trip to Williamsburg. So I called up the Coven Spinning Freak and I squee’ed. I wish I could show Midori this place because she would absolutely keel over.

Coven Spinning Freak taught me how to use my spindle the next day. My yarn was pretty sad, but I’m told it was exceptionally non-misshapen for a first outing. I was fairly patient with it all around until we got to the Andean Plying thing, whereby I wanted to cry. (OK, so not really. But I don’t have the brain cells for these kinds of shenanigans right now!)

Speaking of all things witchy, I was delighted to discover that Judy, founder of my tradition, has a substantial Wikipedia entry. That’s good fun. If you look real close, you can spot a picture of Judy and I on my bookshelves.

The yarn store could be really bad for my productivity, what with being a short subway ride and my favorite Brooklyn nabe and right next to an excellent pizza joint and the Best Yarn Store Ever and all.

Speaking of which, I’m not getting anything done on my script at this point, so I think I might as well go watch a few more arena rock clips and hit the hay.