Blues Bound

I spent time in the studio all weekend getting those small pieces ready to ship to Maine and packing them and of course grazing through all the fabric that is tossed all around the studio, fondling this and fingering that. This always leads to sorting fabrics into teams that seem to get along together and could lead to works full grown later on. I was gravitating to small pieces of solid hand-dyes (I am supposed to be making a lap throw for my Mom in Easter-ish colors for when they kick her out of the rehab hospital sometime in April) but I had one of the big Bubbles series under the needle for quilting first so there were just little piles of scraps here and there. Then Jim and I got into it as good partners must from time to time. Hot words and spiky emotions quickly flash to tears that are good for me to spill rather than save up because I can say some really horrible things given enough spark. Instead, we wisely parted ways for the day and when I got back from doing errands I gathered up those bright scraps and slashed and sewed myself some calm. You can sure tell that this isn't how Lisa Call goes about her work but there you have it. Now, I have started quilting and pulled the stitching out three time and dreamed it had smaller needle-turned rectangles appliqued inside some of the bars. Which ones? What colors? Stitch in the ditch? Stitch at all? Time will tell but it feels good in my hands and heart.

Lost Sketchbook

Now I know why Karma and Jinx have been lurking under the bedskirts. I woke early to hear tiny chewing sounds. Once it was light, I started pulling out the drawers built into the bedframe. There must be a mouse under there somewhere because in one drawer there was an old paintbrush with all the bristles chewed off. I left all the drawers open to let the girls do their stuff, hopefully while I am not looking. Deep in one of the drawers I found an old sketchbook I used while I was in some kind of technical training at work. Spatulitis is where I keep non-fiber artstuff-photos and the like.

Cash in Hand

"Southeast View" SOLD Well, a check anyway. My face has been hurting from grinning for a month. It's official. Up to now I have been afraid it was all in my imagination but here's a nice slice of reality complete with cream cheese frosting! About three weeks ago, I was approached by the owners of a new shop opening in the booming downtown Arts district of Portland, Maine. They came across my shop on Etsy.com and made me an offer to buy ALL NINE of the small pieces I had listed there. (The things there now are all new listings) "Ladder" SOLD At fist I had a cold panic fearing that the offer was coming from Belarus or Moggadishu when I had clearly indicated on Etsy that I would only ship domestic. I have enough headaches, thanks. Then I studied the Esty listings and wondered where the heck these little pieces actually were. An afternoon of rummaging and unpacking, I found all the pieces in good order. Whew! I had donated several small works to the Art Doing Good project and worried that I had screwed up and was offering stuff for sale that I no longer had in my possession. I have to start keeping better track of the product. Then I had a very pleasant email give & take with the owners of "Edith & Edna, Inc. - a curated shopping experience" and it all looks like a launch. I am spending this weekend sewing on sleeves, perhaps a false back, a little touch up pressing here & there - wrapping and then packing the whole lot to be shipped off to Maine as soon as the owners give the word. "Test Pattern 2" SOLD And here are the Crunchy Sugar Sprinkles on top of this tasty item - they are going to be offering classes starting in the summer and have invited me to consider teaching something. I would be great at teaching "Grinning Idiot 101" right about now!

Changes

Thanks to Lisa Call who reminded me that manipulating images is a great way of wrestling with design problems before you get out the rotary cutter. I am happier now but am considering some color changes/additions.

Passing Through

I stopped machine quilting on this one - did all I intended too. All of the discharged rings are sewn all the way around (if you click on it, you can get pretty close up) - and then put it up on the design wall to just eyeball it. Something is bothering me about it and I don't want to face the music. Step up and have a shot. 36x36, I think I named it "Passing Through" because it's not going to be around very long.

The Owls

This is seriously addicting. Melly told me that Mr.O. had been gone all day. Concerned, I tuned in. Poor Mum is crouched on her egg chanting to herself glumly. I wandered off to read some more complaints about Blogger. Then I tuned back in to the nest just in time to see the Dirty Ole Bastard barge empty-handed through the front door and pounce on Mum's back for some 20 second owl sex. (At least I hope it's DOB and not friendly Uncle Freddy from three trees down). And now he is leaning up against the wall, scratching his belly and snoring. This beats Desperate Housewives hands down.

Testing Blogger

Sure, after days of nonsense (I ask myself how they make any money on giving this aggravation away for free) I upload any old .jpg to test the photo upload tool and look what I find, our resident cross-dressing entertainer, Atlanta's own Baton Bob tweaked to death by my son fooling with Photoshop for the first time. And that is one of my hand dyed velvet scarves he's wearing, btw.

The Silent Bell

When it tolls inside your head and makes you let out the jib and lean hard on the rudder, you had better pay attention. I heard it sometime late Friday night when I caught up to Melly's post about a new addition to her studio. The photo of the desk in the nook is so compelling and mysterious to me - the two things that hook me deepest when I look at any kind of art and the things that I strive for in my own work. She has kindly given me permission to use this photo and I am planning a very large piece - think California King large. There will be no stalling in the search for the perfect black because that's a fool's errand. I will paint my own. I have a tub of carbon black gesso that is like looking into a hole in the universe. Just thinking about birthing this one is giving me chills. Straight lines, plumb and true! See it here until Blogger recovers it's wits.

Treasure from the Trash

(DIAL-UP WARNING! If you click on the picture, it will take you to a huge version) OKAY all you weavers out there. Just what is this that my son rescued from a trash pile? This is dumpster diving at it's best. The fabric is almost spotless, cut raggedly from the bolt. About 45" wide x 3 yards! I dare to think it might be silk but the experts at HGA will set me straight on Monday.

Begorrah!

So this is what goes on in my studio on St. Patrick's Day, who was, my GoodMan hastens to remind us all, Italian. Yes indeed, there is a feline snuggled into a fabulous piece of handdyed cotton. Did I tell you I have stock in the company that makes packing tape? So while my back is turned, sloth reigns supreme. And why are they so exhausted? While we are at work, they invite the Yorkies from next door in through the cat/doggie door and play poker in the kitchen just like you've seen in the tapestry. All I have to do is rig a cam to prove it.

Work in progress

Yes Melly, you are right about the dark spots. I was happier with them after I trimmed the darker edges off. Now the quilting is going well. Oh, and thanks so much for the Owls. Voodoo and I enjoyed the show for about 20 minutes. Beat prime-time TV all to hell last night. While I was working on this one last night, I was wondering about the satisfaction I get from "bounding" poorly defined color areas from one another, in this case with stitching. This piece was on it's way to my mental shredder almost from go, but something in the discharged shapes kept calling me back. Each step along the way, even false ones, has delivered on it's promise of pleasing me. All I had to do was see it through. Thread color choices have never been a big deal but right now I am stalled because I want the right colors of mauve, violet, and navy to continue - and I have to get in gear and go to work today. Hmmpf.

Beyond the Whine

After reading that last post I had to remind myself that, in the midst of all this personal turmoil, I have been getting some Art done almost daily. This one is plaguing me. I took my first shot at using Melody's Escape Hatch Finish and of course, screwed it up. Don't ask. Now I am spending hours re-arranging the spots and have a sneaking suspicion the dark ones are not going to make the cut at all in favor of some other color. I should know by now that this series does Not shine until way, way into the design process and a lot depends on the machine quilting. It's still in the sow's ear stage. Just had to mention that last night "West Wing" and "the Sopranos" were equally breathtaking entertainment. Figure out what that says about yours truly.

Find Me A Beach Somewhere....

Some of you are probably thinking I skipped my meds. I used to have regular nightmares of alligators twisting my legs off after I got hurt in the bombing at the '96 Olympics in Centennial Park, Atlanta and last night the alligators were back and I woke up with a cramp in my calf that took an hour to soothe. My husband and I have a code. If one of us calls the other at work and it's a really bad time, the callee simply says "Alligator" and the caller knows to just hang up and try later. It's actually a contraction of the expression "Up to my ass in Alligators" which is where we have both been for about six months now. Did I mention that my mother is back in the hospital again? this time with pneumonia. She has been in and out of hospitals for about three months and I am afraid she is in the Broken Hip Death Spiral and no one in the family is willing to say anything about it. So do I go up there and stand around in a hospital room and be useless or do I wait and go up there for a funeral? Both? Then there was a really interesting email Friday morning from some nice folks who are starting up a new shop/gallery in Portland, Maine. They made me an offer on eight of the pieces I had up for sale on Etsy.com. Just when I was getting ready to take everything off that sight. It just seemed to be getting overcrowded. I will keep you posted as to how and if this deal goes down. The money is almost exactly what I need to go to Arrowmont. Now all I can do is hope it's all legit and the check isn't drawn on a bank in downtown Niarobi. Friday night we went out for the first time since an office Christmas party. An associate of Jim's gave him four all access, VIP passes to see Charlie Daniels perform at a local cowboy bar called Wild Bills. There is a big sign over the door giving a long list of what is unacceptable attire including - no biker gear, no bandanas, no group-affilliated colors, no pants below the waist(?). As I read down the list I fully expected to see "no tie-dye" but I was willing to give it a shot. Jim is a big fan of old fashioned country western music so I promised myself I would do my best to be a good sport and have a good time. Surprise! About three hours into the evening, after two earsplitting local bands, swarms of drunks, bimbos in chaps with fake boobs dancing on the bars, Charlie Daniels started beating us up with His Personal Savior and by the way, you had Better Support the Troops or else. I just got up and walked out the door. Jimmy was pretty good about it. He was grateful, I guess, that I didn't leap up on the stage and choke some hymn singing hypocrite with the microphone. I am getting pretty damned sick and tired of the so-called cultural wars going on inside this country. Being proud to be an Ameican used to be enough. Now, you have to be the right kind of American and that is nothing to be proud of. So, I spent Saturday morning with ringing ears going through my inventory looking for the pieces in question and uploading just about everything else I have for sale to my Etsy shop.

Lisa Call and several other members of this ring have been provoking a serious line of consideration. I've been following this line of thought and am wondering if what people actually mean is a large "cohesive" body of work - I've only been calling myself a fiber artist since 2001 and I have a LOT of work, TOO much work that looks as if it's been created by a squadron of artists, some good, some who should be horsewhipped outta town and several talented chimps. I'm not inclined to try the latest product, gadget or technique. I have given up trying to bead things because I spend more time picking all the beads off. Ask Janet Thompson and she'll tell you how I refuse to learn curved piecing, foiling or using the bleach pen she gave me or how I keep shying away from fusing altogether. I just don't get the personal satisfaction in the results of those techniques that I get from doing the things that make my fingers and eyes happy but I do get the big thrill out of following my nose on any given day and letting the fibers do what they will. The results are more than a little scattered. Right now I am caught up in the middle of "riding the 3D tiger", to quote Susan Else, and working out a series of very large pieces that I hope are going to be the key pieces in my Large Body of Big Deals. But do I really want to do that? Do I want people to be able to look at a piece and say, unequivocally, that's a Lacativa. Maybe only if they are pulling our their checkbook as they are saying it? Hmmmm... And now, after dashing off Autopilot, there is a large, empty canvas that's been sitting on my beautiful, forgotten, dusty easel that keeps hissing to me each time I close the door to the studio as if I have to hide what's on my mind for it. I think the trick is running amok for your own sake but then having your Sunday Suit of Big Deals more accessible to the public - you know, the ones that made you go "Ah-ha! and Yessss!" the moment you stepped back from the design wall and even after you sewed on the sleeve - and maybe letting the chimp's work go cheap or get donated somewhere anonymously.

More Guts and Voodoo

The Intestines are mostly done but I want to use more of that iridescent sheer stuff but I guess I will have to track some down and actually buy more. And here is a rare photo of Voodoo voicing his opinion.

Not a Quilt

...at least not according to the rules I've seen from time to time. It's a full-on, no nonsense collage. While I was discharging some hand-dyes last night I was bemoaning the fact that stuff always looks more vibrant when it's still wet. What could I do to keep things looking wet? Why, mummify them with acrylic gel of course. I had a jar of goo on hand, some blank canvas and a jug of flibbertygibbets (fabric snips too small and wonderful to throw away) so while the morning news spewed it's lunacy, I got creative. I love the way you can shape the fabric to your will once it's wet with the goo and then nail things in place with a flick of the brush. No pins, no needle, no thread. Something's happening here. What it is ain't exactly clear. Autopilot 10x10 fabric collage

New Work from Old Mistakes

The repeating circles are a theme I don't even try to escape. I can make them with the rhythm of my heartbeat until there is no more room on the page but I will let you in on a little secret...It's not about the circles at all but the spaces they bound and protect. Things are getting back to normal in the studio - as normal as they ever were. Sad pieces of icky hand dyes destined to be backsides are saved from ignominy by a flurry of discharging complete with a spin in my new microwave. And YES! I even bought some antichlor. I cross my fingers and splash it on the finished pieces like holy water hoping that I haven't paid 1.79 for a bottle of ditchwater. These two pieces are cleverly disguising the huge pile of folded and basketed fabric I relocated from the cutting table so I could get a better look at what the lizard was up to. You can see by the things hanging and lurking about my studio that I have been making 3D fiber things for a long time. I have had that clutch of blue nylon snakes for about ten years now. What was I thinking?

the Whole Cloth

Here's a view from the floor where I am doing my home made physical therapy. I can't get the colors quite right in this room. There's a lot of blue bouncing around in here and my camera doesn't like it. Mandi wanted to know HOW. The top panel is one of my top secret tube dyes and the bottom one was dyed in a mason jar and batched overnight. I sewed the two panels together and then handpainted the circles using metallic acrylic paints. I will heatset this from the backside but, since I don't have any plans of washing it, I won't worry about that too much. There will be a LOT of what I call super-garnet machine stitching and some hand appliqed pieces too.

After a Bad Start in the Night...

My husband left for work at 4:30 this morning only to come back into the house to let us all know that Nikki's car had been broken into. Although the car was parked on the street right under a streetlight, they broke the trunk lock and stole the expensive stereo system that Jake has been installing one piece at a time. You know, the obnoxious kind everyone loves to hate. I must say that I have never heard them coming down the street - being young and in love, they still have much to say and share with each other. I was only grateful that the thieves didn't take the whole car. Tonight I want to put a folded note on the mailbox with this message "TO THE THIEVES...here is a number you can call about the vaccine you will need within two days. We thought you might be coming so we left a little something on the amp and speakers you stole. " and then I will add the number of the local police department. Wonder if I will get arrested for domestic terrorism? So the bad night became a good day. For some reason I woke up with someone else's back - one that didn't moan and groan over every little movement. My house has been neglected since the holidays so I focused on one filthy corner of my kitchen and scrubbed everything I could reach from high up on the cabinets to the floor. That and a few loads of laundry made me feel like a productive human again. Soon the sun was streaming into my studio so I went in there to see what new cobwebs had grown. One of my denim jackets was fresh from the wash so I took a moment to organize something to cover a corporate logo over the breast pocket. Some of that vintage damask that I dyed last summer - Then I started looking around for something else to get into and found two large pieces of hand dyed cotton cavorting on the floor. They were so great looking together I took them to the design wall, turned them this way and that and discovered my next large piece well under way. It was a great day to break out into the outdoor studio and get some painting done.I have been craving to do more like this since I put the sleeve on "Rubric" back in the fall.

Ongoing "inner" meditations

Bet you can't guess what this is going to be. One of the reasons I am building these parts by hand is that my husband and son are working some very peculiar hours so that when I get home from my job, I have to creep around and generally respect the fact that there are two very tired people sleeping in the house. Banging around, playing music and running the sewing machine in my studio are out of the question. I filled my porto-studio basket with a selection of fabric, thread and tools and work in the living room. On a different note, I am thinking about having a SALE on older work to fund my annual fiber education week. When the new Arrowmont catalog came last week I was so excited to find that Emily Richardson was offering a class this summer I started getting hives thinking about ways to come up with the money I need to attend. The first thing that occurred to me was YARD SALE! Then I quickly pared that back to Virtual Yard Sale. Stay tuned.If you have ever craved a Lacativa original, you might be in luck. I need to make room for the new so the old has to GO...I sound like a car dealer.

Liver

The spleen eluded me but I seem to have a lot of preconceived notions about the size and shape of livers.

Guts Update

Here is the finished Imaginary Heart from the Uninformed Guts series. I am going to have to learn to take better pictures of 3D fiber work. another view:

Guts - Part One

Yesterday, Jan Thompson and I terrorized the freeways of Atlanta (Jan pilots a Corvette) threading our way through Spaghetti Junction with the talking navigator guiding the way. We arrived alive at Jan Girod's new shop, Fiber on a Whim, a new "inspiration" store for fiber artists carrying enough unique and wonderful goodies to keep me goggling all morning. After gorging ourselves on thread, cloth, paint and books, we went the Cheesecake Factory in Buckhead and ate like Romans. All this and a copy of Surface Design Journal. My senses were properly overloaded. After I got home and polished off my Key Lime Cheesecake, I settled in with the handwork basket, a few cats, the TV remote, the phone and started work on this piece. I can't imagine a better way to use a rainy day. Inspired by Arlee's heart research and the new rayon threads I bought just yesterday at Fiber On a Whim. When I followed the links that were posted on the QA list I just took a quick glance at one black and white illustration and decided I would rather go with what I thought I knew about biology. I took AP biology back in the stone age and we dissected a horse heart and of course I am a graduate of the NBC-ER School of Medicine. I know the plumbing on this one is purely made up but it was fun to do. Lots more stitching is planned. Looking back through my 2D work I find more than one reference to the interiors of various creatures, like my crocheted livers and intestines. 3D seems the bigger and more interesting route to making these guts tangible.

I took the day off from the office to get my own paperwork done. It took most of the morning to do all the necessaries to get a show entry into the mail. First thing, I decided that one of the three pieces I had settled on was weak and a replacement player was jumping up and down on the bench screaming for attention. Then I had to reshoot most of the pictures, burn a CD, fill out the paperwork. And doncha know by the time I got to the post office half the town was there on their lunchbreak all stamping their feet and aggravating the staff with general impatience. I swear I am going to move to Montana. In my haste, I wound up mailing the entry to the gallery instead of the Country Quilter in Somers where it was supposed to go. A quick email to Jane Davila assured me that I wasn't the only one to make this mistake and the gallery was on the lookout for strays like mine. -3 points for haste. I am excited about entering SPUN because it's being held at a gallery in the town where I grew up, Katonah, New York. If I get a piece into this show, I will want my whole name up on the little card. Someone just might know who Deborah Useted Lacativa is. "Get Out of the Water" is a wierd little experiment along lines that I am going to pursue again. You can't tell from the photo but it's amost an inch thick. I folded and layered a largish piece of cheepo hi-loft polyester batting and stitched it into shape with a few big loops of Nymo. Then I proceeded to mummify it with pieces of what feels like cotton lawn but is actually some cotton guaze scarves I bought and hand-dyed last year.

Southbound

Although the fat envelope won't materialize in my mailbox until next week sometime, a little email birdy told me that "Needleturning at Sunrise" has been accepted into "Considering Quilts '06" at the Atlantic Center for the Arts in Florida. Now all I have to do is figure out how to mount or display the little thing. It's only about 14"x11" and I have never had a piece this small on display. Somehow, sleeves and rods don't seem to be the thing. Time to ask some experts.

More Humbuggery

Although I love spontaneous tokens of affection, my Goodman knows that given a choice, I would be happier to get a good tool than a bunch of roses. This year he gave me both. The new laser level to replace the one stolen off his job will come in handy if I ever get back to making anything bigger than my cutting mat. I bought these for myself - the hope of Spring. I hate Valentine's day along with all the other Hallmark holidays that have insinuated themselves into Western (lackof) culture. Of course there are those of you out there who will snuffle into their sleeves and say "Sure, she was one of those kids who didn't get any Valentines at school..no wonder she doesn't like it". Nope, even way back then you could buy cheap little packs of 20 cutout cards where all you had to do was stamp your greasy pawprint on the backside and then pass them out to all of your classmates without even writing a name on the envelope, I thought it was a stupid holiday. Like most kids, I had my posse of friends, some fans and a handful of jealous enemies and suffered no social anxieties. I took no beatings and rarely had to give any. Comedy and reasoning were my shield and sword. I think I was in third grade when I told my mother I wouldn't be needing any Valentines that year. Fine with her, she had two younger aspiring social butterflies to groom and more likely candidates than I was, all scabs and attitude. I think Mom knew I was an anarchist by the time I was two and was resigned to it. So on Valentine's day we all had little paper baskets set out on our desks that we had made in Art class - Yes, ART! The Katonah Elementary had a wonderful paste-eating class, the highlight of my Monday, Wednesday and Fridays. At various points in the day, you were supposed to go around and put your cards in the baskets. I observed some kids poking through their take, counting the unopened cards they had received and groaning or gloating over how much or little they were liked by their peers. It seemed to me that almost everyone had about the same little heap of cheesy envelopes. One kid had obviously made her valentines, cutting and pasting the red paper and heart-shaped doilies, one for each and every person in the class and all with a wallet sized picture of Her Grace glued in the middle. An aspiring class president, no doubt. About five minutes before the bell we were allowed to get our coats, speak to the teacher, copy assignments from the board and generally mill around. I took the opportunity to surreptitiously take the pile of cards from my basket, stuff it deep into my desk and go around the room and redistribute the cards I had received. Kids looked at me and beamed. I snuck Miss PhotoThing's card into the teachers In Box no doubt stamping her an asskisser from that day on. I can remember being happy that folks were so easily amused.

Wonderful Distraction

At the office where I work part time, new books on every creative endeavor you can imagine arrive daily. I got into the habit of averting my eyes when I passed through the nook where the Book Mistress presides over the stacks but the other day I was captivated by this cover. The book is "Beyond the Basics - Gourd Art" by David Macfarlane and is filled with one jewel of creation after another. This cover photo is a piece by Artist Mari Mickler Moss. I have long been looking for an excuse to cultivate something more useful than crabgrass in my front yard. It's the only place on my property that gets enough sun to grow vegetables and since there are no rules or covenants in this old neighborhood about what you can grow in plain view of the world, I think I am going to plow all that miserable grass under and take full advantage of the rising damp from the elderly septic fields that must compete with an underground spring that courses through the yard. My lawn stays green and demanding all summer long while my neighbors either water or live with crispy brown crewcut lawns that crunch when you walk on them. Why not grow some potential art instead? Anyone want to buy a slightly used lawn mower?

Woman Expelled from Clown College

At the very least, I had a paintbrush in my hand this morning.

A New Tool and Words as Can Openers

I read more than a few blogs lately where the author is bemoaning the fact that they labored long and hard over a post only to have it snatched away into the ether. If you are a Firefox devotee you may be interested in this little tidbit that I stumbled across the other day - Performancing for Firefox is a slick little download that lets you blog offline and then publish to wherever. I haven't played with it long enough to discover all the fun but under "settings" on the left side is "Save Editor Contents on Closing". That's more than Blogger ever did for me. And for those of you who don't get Danny Gregory's newsletter, this line from the person who translated his book into Korean. After reading it, I closed my laptop, put my head down on the lid and wept with my eyes wide open. "....Maybe it wasn't such a big disaster for other people, but I was very shocked by that experience, and was living with an empty heart, thinking how should I live from now on, everyday, every minute..." Living with an empty heart. Living with an empty heart. Living with an empty heart. It still has a beat. And don't Sonji's new magic carpets just lift your spirits?

I deserve this

Thanks Crazy Aunt Purl
LIBRA (Sept. 23 - Oct. 23)
I'm so jealous! All the planets are lining up for Libras this month, first, there's Mars Moving into your Hot Mama house, and ya'll have a full moon in your Shiny Happy House and Venus is un-retrograding just in time to hang out in your house of Big Pimpin' ... now that's Astrology Gone Right. Go ahead and indulge in that post V-day red velvet heart full of chocolates. Feel smug. Your hard work last month is beginning to pay off, and the rewards are part of the goal!

How many website make you laugh out loud?

From one of my oldest favorite websites "the Word Detective" "Amuck" Dear Mr. Morris: A magazine article I read recently described a babysitter as being unfit because she allowed the children in her care to "run amuck," which immediately made me wonder about that phrase. Any clues? -- Doris Sherman, Toledo, OH. Do you mean "any clues to where the children went"? I'd check the coat closet, personally. If they're not there, they're probably in the cupboard under the kitchen sink. I used to be very good at eluding my babysitter for hours at a time, or at least until she forgot about my feeding an entire jar of grape jam to the dog. Of course, the dog usually reminded her later in the evening anyway. I think the reason I don't remember any of my babysitters very clearly is probably that I met each of them only once. Still, as trying as I may have been to my babysitters, I never actually "ran amuck" in the original sense, and I doubt that the children in that magazine article did, either. "Amuck," more properly spelled "amok," comes from the Malay word "amoq," meaning "a state of murderous frenzy." In English, the word "amok" dates back to the 16th century and the first contacts between Europeans and the Malay inhabitants. The standard story of the word is that the Malays were "susceptible to bouts of depression and drug use," which then led them to engage in murderous rampages, wherein anyone in the path of the person "running amok" was likely to be sliced and diced with a native sword known as a "kris." One need not be overly politically-correct to suspect that accounts of the phenomenon by Europeans may have been somewhat melodramatic and culturally biased, but the word entered English with the same general meaning, that of "murderous frenzy." As is often the case, however, the meaning of the phrase was diluted as "running amok" became a metaphor in English for someone who was simply "out of control" in some respect, and not necessarily chopping folks up. Still, you'll never catch me babysitting. And from some angel on the QA list, this link which I am wallowing in at the moment: Radio Paradise