I was thinking about that the other day, Dana, and I couldn't remember if ita ever discussed musical theater.
Riley: Maybe I should just let you rest. Buffy: You sure? I bet if you just lay down with me- Riley: Nothing you are about to say will lead to rest.
'Lessons'
ita's thread
A place where we can talk about ita, miss ita, and share information about memorials. The hugging started over here in Natter.
msbelle - Jan 04, 2016 3:51:53 pm PST #2270 of 3157
I remember the crazy days. 500 posts an hour. Nubmer! Natgbsb
Beverly - Jan 04, 2016 5:22:57 pm PST #2271 of 3157
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.
Anne, ita's own two flickr accounts are here and here.
(sob) Ginger's collection of ita photos is here.
sarameg - Jan 04, 2016 5:25:41 pm PST #2272 of 3157
Jesus. Yeah, Ginger did that for us. For ita.
-t - Jan 04, 2016 5:30:49 pm PST #2273 of 3157
I am a woman of various inclinations and only some of the time are they to burn everything down in frustration
Oh, man.
Steph L. - Jan 04, 2016 5:31:58 pm PST #2274 of 3157
Unusually and exceedingly peculiar and altogether quite impossible to describe
I don't remember the story behind the pink gingham junta. I know that it's a thing (obviously), but I realized I can't explain it to Tim. Can someone remind me of its genesis?
Kat - Jan 04, 2016 5:35:19 pm PST #2275 of 3157
"I keep to a strict diet of ill-advised enthusiasm and heartfelt regret." Leigh Bardugo
Steph, alibelle explained here. Also, I think it was also wrapped up in the Group of 7 and us taking over the board? Or something.
JZ - Jan 04, 2016 5:40:21 pm PST #2276 of 3157
See? I gave everybody here an opportunity to tell me what a bad person I am and nobody did, because I fuckin' rule.
Wore black and pink today, though unphotographed. And thought about ita, so much. A few nights ago I pinched a nerve in my right arm sleeping wrong, and it's been pinging and throbbing ever since, and even at that very low level (maybe 2.5 out of 10 at most) it's been unrelenting and miserable. And all I've been thinking about is what a tiny shriveled speck of discomfort it is compared to what she endured daily, for years, with such fury and grace and eloquence.
Through it all she worked, wrote, drew, coded, belt-tested until she absolutely couldn't manage it, baked, joked, ficced, photographed, loved the hell out of her family, functioned. Somehow. Past what anyone else could have managed, past what any human should have had to endure, in the face of bureaucrazy and bullshit and petty administrative nonsense. I can't imagine what steel she was made of that she not only endured but created and mattered and fiercely lived through it; I still can't believe she's gone, and I still almost can't believe she was real, is real, that this world ever had the capacity to contain her improbable self.
Steph L. - Jan 04, 2016 5:40:24 pm PST #2277 of 3157
Unusually and exceedingly peculiar and altogether quite impossible to describe
Steph, alibelle explained here.
Thanks! And it was pink gingham just...because? (My memory really is shit lately.)
Beverly - Jan 04, 2016 5:45:34 pm PST #2278 of 3157
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.
Because pink gingham is sweet, innocent, and feminine, and people who wear it wouldn't be expected to be tough and get-things-done, if I remember right.
Thus the wearing of pink gingham with big stompy combat boots, to illustrate the dichotomy.
P.M. Marc - Jan 04, 2016 5:55:11 pm PST #2279 of 3157
So come, my friends, be not afraid/We are so lightly here/It is in love that we are made; In love we disappear
So, amusingly, somehow, her pretty people sites came up ON THEIR OWN in my DW today. Not by me.
I'm going to take this as a sign to cry less, perv more.