Dale Mackey

Knoxvillians!  I invite you to come out and see “Fool For Love,” a dynamic and disturbing play about family relations, presented by the Actors Co-op, of which I am a newly minted member.  It’s at Ironwood Studios (119 Jennings in the Happy Holler area) Thurs-Sun at 8 pm this weekend and next.  It’s not only cheap ($10), it’s short (just a little over an hour) AND quite engaging.  

Also peek around our new website, created by the lovely folks at Nathanna with company member photos by Brian Wagner’s photobooth.

Visit our website!

Hey there.  Just thought I’d brag that I’m in another Etsy treasury, this time created by GetReadySetGO.  It’s beautiful and blue and I’m honored to be a part.

Esquire’s October issue featured a story by Tom Chiarella called “The Perfect Compliment.”  In it, Chiarella chronicles his attempt to become an expert compliment giver and to dissect what makes a really great compliment.  We’ve all had those moments in which someone gives us a really great compliment, one that sticks with us for some reason or another.  These aren’t usually given to us by our family members, lovers, or close friends.  These are the people we expect to support us and take note of our accomplishes and exceptional attributes.  The best ones, in my opinion, comes from acquaintances and strangers.  My boyfriend’s boss’ wife Liz, who I know and like very much, but with whom I spend little time, recently said that photos she’s seen of Shawn and my parties and gatherings remind her of salons from the 17th and 18th centuries, when (according to Wikipedia), “intellectual, social, political, and cultural elites [gathered] under the roof of an inspiring hostess or host, partly to amuse one another and partly to refine their taste and increase their knowledge through conversation.”  I remember reading about salons at some point in high school and bemoaning the fact that they didn’t exist any more.  They sounded like exactly the kind of thing I wanted to do with my friends and colleagues on day.  Liz had identified an aspect of my life that I had unconsciously been trying to cultivate and by commenting on it, made me feel really really good.  A few days later, I sold an item on Etsy and the buyer, a wonderfully kind woman named Haley, sent me a glowing e-mail about my work.  The things she pointed out- the quirkiness and whimsy and fun- are the very things I try to evoke when I make prints or collages.  She didn’t have to write that e-mail. She could have simply bought her print and gone on with her day.  Instead she made mine.  Both of these compliments stuck with me more than the ones I usually get- that people like my quirky glasses or the chain I wear in the far-too-many holes I’ve put in my right ear.  It’s nice that people notice and like these things, but they don’t, in my opinion have a lot to do with who I am or what I do.

In “The Perfect Compliment,” Chiarella lists three rules for a great compliment:

1. It’s not easy to come up with.
2. It should feel good.
3. It takes more courage than you think.

I think he’s on to something.  The best compliments are not the most obvious ones.  They are not the easiest ones.  They feel good because you mean them.  And they take courage because you make yourself vulnerable admitting that you are noticing and admiring intimate details about a stranger.  

Today I resolve to give three very good, very sincere compliments. I dare you to do the same.

I have friends that refuse to use Facebook because they’re sure it will somehow take the place of real social interaction, that they will forgo actually seeing their friends to spend hours looking at their Halloween photos on Facebook.  As someone who just spent the better part of an hour looking at friends’ Halloween photos on Facebook, I can confidently say it’s possible to have the best of both worlds. Facebook can be great for fostering friendships with acquaintances you might not otherwise interact with much, for easily communicating with large groups of people and for keeping in touch with lovely people who might otherwise slip from your world without you even noticing.

Katie Schmid and I went to high school together, acted in plays together and sometimes ran around with the same crowd during the weekends, but once we went away to college we didn’t really keep in touch.  Until Facebook came along and we happily friended each other.  Since then it’s been lovely to periodically and see what she’s up to- now she’s in China hiking the Great Wall, now she’s having a quirky dinner party with friends, now she’s in Wyoming studying poetry (her poem “Jobs” is featured in Best New Poets 2009: 50 Poems from Emerging Writers, a copy of which I just purchased myself).  Now she’s created beautiful journals, which I’m delighted to share with you. Katie’s pictures and words are below.  And of course, take a peek at the ever-growing journal gallery.  

” My new journal (the actual book) is by Jill Bliss, who does these beautiful flower journals that I love. Both of the journals [featured here] are primarily filled with drawings I did while I was in China for a few months in 2007, and then again when I was in China for five months in 2008/9. Some things: [the "I jizzed on your cat card" is] from when my boyfriend and I decided that we needed to fulfill a heretofore untapped niche in the greeting card industry: the morning-after-a-one-night-stand card. We called our card company “Ballmark: when you care enough to send the almost-best.” I drew, he helped with the concepts… The rest of the drawings are from my time in China (and right before I left for China, and also right after I came back from China). This period of my journaling was during a time when I was living an intensely interior life: I was not working and had a lot of time on my hands to think, and feel insecure, and draw, draw, draw, as well as write poems. I also like to draw women, and enjoy bubble letters.”

Sometimes I miss being in college.  Of course I loved living in the same tiny town and the same tiny living quarters with some of the most amazing people I’ll ever meet.  Of course I loved the late night dance parties, the unsuccessful study groups in the library, the very successful study breaks.  Of course I miss the amazing theatre resources and budget and decent audience size for every show.  

But what I really miss?  The homework. 

Now, I don’t miss all the homework.  I sleep fine knowing I’ll never complete another Calculus work set again, and as much fun as I had reading scientific reports for Biology, I’ve never been inclined to pick up a copy of Nature and peruse it for fun.  It’s the writing classes I miss the most.  Having someone give you an assignment, hold you accountable for finishing it, and provide smart feedback on top of that was I gift I didn’t appreciate until I left the hallowed halls of Grinnell.  As Joni Mitchell says, “you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone.”

I’ve tried to create some semblance of accountability for myself, with varying degrees of un-success.  Writing buddies, monthly goals, and self-imposed rewards haven’t really done the trick.  But I’m really trying to get back into the swing of regular writing and revising, which is why I’m once again attempting to fully participate in National Novel Writing Month, “a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30.”

For those of you that don’t know how to use a calculator it all breaks down to 1,667 words a day.  Yesterday I wrote 230, so I’m already behind 1,437 words.  But I can do this.  Right?

I’m proud to be included in bCompany’s excellent Etsy treasury “let there be cupcakes…” featuring all the best in zombie, cupcake, and mustache wares on Etsy.  Take a peek!

Mostly because it’s about me, but also because it’s written by one of my favorite people.  As the longest and most artfully composed comment in the history of this blog, I thought it deserved its own posting.

I cannot wait to see you, Dale
I will not be deterred by hail
Or unexpected suitor mail
Or bands of angry, hungry snails
I will not be deterred by fire
Or fields of land mines and barbed wire
Or angry townsfolk with a pyre
No, I will be there. I aspire
to touch your awesome face with mine
and let our bodies intertwine
and drink a lot of shitty wine.
Again: a LOT of shitty wine.

Inspired by recent audio projects by my dear friend and Chicago Public Radio employee Sarah Lu, as well as college buddy Willa Campbell, I decide I should start doing some of my own audio pieces here on the blog.  This first one is very rough, edited in garage band (which is certainly not the best for non-musical audio stuff.  Audacity is a free program that’s much better, for the record).  But I figure I have to start somewhere.  Some of you may remember my infamous gerbil tale.  I thought I’d record that in my own voice.  Soundtrack by Sufjan Stevens.  Enjoy.

Halloween is fast approaching and dudes, I got nothing.  I don’t understand it.  I love Halloween. I love dressing up.  So then why all of a sudden am I at a total loss for any idea or inspiration regarding a costume and more importantly, why does it all seem like a big silly hassle? Perhaps it’s just that I’m busy with work and side projects and haven’t had the time or energy needed to think of a super great costume.  Maybe I’m worried I can’t live up to last year’s pinata costume with Shawn (see below).  Or maybe this is growing up.  Maybe I’m losing my ability to take child-like pleasure in things like costumes and theme parties and cheesy holiday activities like pumpkin carving.  Maybe I’m finally starting to see the world as a little less magical…  No. I think I’m just tired.  So hell me out, guys.  I have less than a week to come up with a fab costume idea and I need help.  Throw some ideas my way.  What are you going as this year? What costumes have impressed you in the past?  My youthful exuberance is riding on this, guys.  FYI- right now Champagne is in the lead. 

Current Ideas: 

Coppertone Girl (flesh body suit, bathing suit bottom with stuffed dog attached)

Champagne (gold dress, some kind of bubble necklace-y thing, hair piled on head, gold make-up, carry champagne)

Famous Painting (frame around head, paint/dress like a a famous painting. I’ve done this one before, though…)

This Halloween season, I encourage you to embrace your inner zombie with this hand-printed, hand-glittered original Michael Jackson memorial screen print. $5 cheap. Made by yours truly.