In Search of Lost Socks

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Where have we been?  You may have noticed the lack of posts for the past few weeks.  Now, we could claim to be off in search of all of the lost socks.  But frankly, that’s too big of an adventure, even for us.

Instead, we’ve been enjoying the comfort of an air conditioned studio this summer.  We’re still early in the production process and are starting with screen tests.  But so far, we’re very excited to see the series come together. Hope you are too.

Stay tuned for further updates of Footnotes: A Sockumentary.


Eric Brooks practices with a stand-in puppet.

Would you pay $8,000 for Elvis’s socks?

From The Telegraph:

There is a special kind of passion that drives collectors of Elvis memorabilia; men and women prepared to spend tens of thousands of dollars to own an otherwise ordinary object that was once touched by the King of Rock and Roll.

On Thursday night, several dozen of them gathered in a studio theatre for the biggest-ever auction held on Elvis’s own Graceland estate in Memphis, Tennessee.

Glenn Johnson, a rangy Texan, paid $7,500 for some luggage which included a toiletry case containing a cuticle tool, a comb, and a nail file. He also got a pair of gold-toed socks.

Do you feel strange paying money for Elvis socks, I asked.

“I used to,” he said. “But not anymore.”  [MORE]


Originally posted on beloved's slave journal:

Insert dollar.

Clink, clink, clink, clink.

Panties, bras, socks, whites,

hot water, bleach, detergent.

Insert coins, start washer,

swish, swish.

Fluorescent lights yellow

the walls despite the sun shining

brightly outside.  Spanish spills

rapidly from the overhead TV.

Orange plastic seats, three year old

magazines, ‘she married him?! no way’.

Feet shuffle, carts roll, with the occasional

squeak.  Voices are hushed by large

front loading machines,

wash cycle complete.

Empty lint, add fabric sheets,

unload cart.  Wet clothes are so heavy – insert coins,

clink, clink, clink, clink.

Warm air filled with bleach and stale

cigarettes.  The attendant giggles

at the mother trying to discipline her child.

We make eye contact.  She smiles.  I’m a regular.

Check dryer.

Dry, dry, dry, damp.

Add more coins,

clink, clink, clink.

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