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Okay, so there was only one contest entry (other than what I did to my own netbook), but it would’ve taken something really amazing (like actually implementing any of the AV Club’s suggestions) to top Camilla’s entry. At some point soon, I’ll be posting Camilla’s pattern for the “Go to Italy” stitching so you can make your own.

I’m still accepting submissions, though: send me a graffiti remix, and I’ll send you a couple graffiti buttons and a copy of the book. Instructions are still up on the remix page.

I was able to find an Italian style of embroidery that was relatively simple and worked well for this project. It’s called Assisi embroidery, and this version is a bit modern, especially with the little shoe border. I went with stitching because the medium is about as quaint as the idea of escaping it all by cobbling in Italy.

So, don’t be shy– make something and send it in! Origami, crayon-on-construction-paper, sculptures made out of used wrapping paper, it doesn’t need to be as elaborate as Camilla’s creation. And in exchange, I’ll send you buttons, just for submitting something! The deadline is now January 1st. In case you’ve forgotten, here’s the full contest rules and description.

It’s a non-competing contest entry, of course, but I hope the actual contest entries blow it out of the water.

To celebrate Russian at the University of Chicago, I wore my “One exam and one essay and I happened [supposed to be 'and I'm done']” (that would be me in the photo, with my dramatization of the Confused Russian Student). No one appears to have really noticed– or, if so, certainly not said anything. The person who I showed the original graffiti too didn’t even pick up on the mistake; there, I suppose, is part of the beauty of it.

Meanwhile, David Birnbaum kindly wore a button around, perhaps subtly suggesting the possibility of pursuing a different career for Slavists dissatisfied with the state of funding in the Humanities. (David, of course, also wins the distinction of being the first person to pre-order a copy of the book.) And today, for the last day, I pulled out my ‘Go to Italy’ shirt too. I wonder whether I’ll get any remarks at airport security; my inclination towards weird t-shirts sometimes leaves me doing more explaining than I’d like.

And finally, my father, recipient of the first copy of the book, proudly showed up to lunch in Fish Eats Brain, which apparently he wears around Keene, NH.

I wonder who will find them. If it’s someone planning to write another response, will the response be more civil? Or maybe they’ll end up in the pockets of the students who reshelve books, though in the year and a half I had that job I never noticed the graffiti.

If you came across this site through a button, leave me a note in the comments; I’d love to hear abut it.

So how do you get a button? I’ve set aside one for each of the books I’m ordering in a batch to sell myself, so if you order a book through crescatgraffiti.com it’ll come with a button (along with being signed!) I’ve set aside a couple more handfuls for promotional stuff in case the book can find its way into any local bookstores. This leaves another handful or two for general purposes. If you ask me in person and I have some on me, I’ll give you one.

In other news, the package that I suspect is the second proof of the book was safely locked away in the apartment manager’s office, which won’t open until after I leave for work tomorrow. With any luck, though, I’ll be able to place the batch book order tomorrow night.

Shoe repair guy, by Swamibu

But Val Archambeau suggested on the Crescat Graffiti Facebook page that it might be a reference to “Pretty Little Mistakes” by Heather Mcelhatton– a grown-up choose-your-own-adventure novel where you end up working as a cobbler in Italy in one storyline.

I kinda hope it’s a coincidence. Too many times I’ve Googled phrases from creative-sounding graffiti only to discover they’re (possibly somewhat mangled) quotes from songs or movies.

It also makes me wonder if the exhortation to chant with the monks in Tibet also comes from somewhere other than the tortured mind of a college student.