Showbiz Moms & Dads: "Emilys mother insists that shes doing all this for her daughter and protests to the unseen filmmakers that her daughter is no JonBenet. 'Does she look like a happy child?' she says, thinking that the question is rhetorical. But the filmmakers, appropriately showing no mercy, answer the question by cutting to a shot of Emily looking absolutely miserable as she prepares to go onstage."
The only consolation to watching Showbiz Moms & Dads is that the subjects--the parents, at least--want to be exploited and get their time in front of the camera. As for the children, they are a reminder that the path for every Britney Spears or Hilary Duff is lined with a million self-inflated adolescent egos.
Risking life and limb, Brian had his first driving lesson yesterday. His twenty-something years of being an expert passenger must have given him some special insight into operating an vehicle. He did a good job on his right turns, a good job on his left turns, and a pretty good job on parking. We also ventured out of the empty parking lot and onto a real road with actual moving cars and pedestrians! My knuckles barely turned white as I gripped the emergency break with all my might. Fortunately, Brian's time of playing the Italian Job and Burnout did not give him the idea that cars easily smash up and get set back on the road without dings and injury by some omnipresent force. Is it a god? Is it that Allstate motto? No, no, it's just a reset button.
Ageing Mona Lisa worries Louvre: "The painting, whose cryptic smile lures millions of visitors to the Louvre, is displayed behind glass to protect it from climatic changes and camera flashes."
The only safer method of protection would be to keep it behind concrete. Or perhaps away from the camera-flashing tourists.
PANTONEbirthdayCOLOR: "Is it a color that reflects the very essence of your specific birthday. Your personal color may not be your favorite color at this time but it is a color designed to honor all the different aspects of who you are".
My color is apricot nectar. The sentiment is okay, but my colors are either a light blue (for my eyes) or a darker red (for my pale complexion).
The Undersea Bunker of the Forking Paths: "JLB: The path to my house can be seen only in the light of violence — the glint of a sword being drawn or the percussive burst of illumination from the mouth of a rifle. I do not receive many visitors."
Apparently he watches Buffy The Vampire Slayer and writes Anya fan-fiction since his 'death'. And so would I.
'Law & Order' a dangerous addiction: "And that's the evil genius behind the making and marketing of the 'Law & Order' franchise. It's on all the time. If you start watching, you want to watch more."
But the article does not address the rise of Law & Order widows and widowers. Housewives complain about football season every fall--the rest of us battle Dick Wolf all the time.
A conductor of one of the orchestras that I play with died suddenly on Monday. We were never particularly close--we barely ever spoke. But I had been following his beats since I was in the 8th grade. He was one of those people that never seemed to age. When I are young, he looks older. As I aged, he just looked... older. Fixed in a mind's eye, he wasn't supposed to die. He should have just lingered on, doing his thing for the rest of time. Not a bad gig when you can get it.
Vivienne Westwood: A Fashion Idol's Odyssey From Punk to Prosperity: "One of our slogans was, `Under the paving stones lies the beach.' And at one point, I thought to myself, `I've no interest in living on the beach'... 'At the time I felt very rebellious,' she went on, 'but I now realize there's no point in it. The urban guerrilla was essentially what we were after, but I don't believe there is a crusade to be waged by wearing clothes. You just become the token rebel who persuades everyone they are living in a free society. Society tolerates its rebels because it absorbs them into its consumer society. You become part of the marketing. Everything comes with a label.'"
No need to keep the trappings of a bad relationship around. On Saturday morning I trashed the brochures for the schools that either I rejected or had rejected me. No, no, I'm not bitter--it was time to move on. However, the gap those brochures left on the shelf needed to be filled. And whatever filled it might as well be organized as well. The next victims in the cleaning purge were the flat studio boxes of old holiday cards, letters, ticket stubs, general biddles, et al. My initial feeling was that those loveletters-though-I-didn't-realize-it-at-the-time from young teenagehood might as well be garbage. Ah, but sentimentality got the best of me and saved them (for now). I've always liked the line from Sons and Lovers that goes "A few days before his departure--he was just twenty--he burned his love-letters.” The ultimate goal is to slowly work my way around the apartment and remove excess before the move up north. Since 2000 I have moved twice but each of those apartments was within two blocks of the other. I know that a lot of boxes are filled with the same dust for four years. A move a few hundred miles away is a good time to shed that New Jersey dust.
My old Powerbook 540c was going to be listed on eBay as part of this dust-shedding exercise. It started up fine, although the battery is shot. The computer has a bright screen and snappy response. Oh, I loved that refurbished machine, but I've moved on to the iBook. As a word processor, the machine would be great. The only catch is that it shut off randomly on two occasions and I don't feel comfortable selling someone a machine, even for $40, if it will do that. Anyone want to make an offer on a computer that needs a retirement home or know of a reputable charity to take the thing?
Musicians 'suffer skin disorders': "Musicians risk such afflictions as 'guitar nipple' or 'fiddler's neck' playing their instruments, a new dermatology study has reported."
An astonishing and extraordinary campaign (revenge of the cyclists!)
Tyre-slasher jailed for 16 months: "A cyclist who slashed 1,728 car tyres after being soaked by a motorist has been jailed for 16 months... Recorder Stephen Lennard said: 'In December last year, motivated by frustration and anger at what you considered to be the inconsiderate manner of motorists as experienced by you as a cyclist and a pedestrian, you embarked on your astonishing and extraordinary campaign.'"
Everyone is apparently very shocked that the new Time Warner Center is killing people. In my family we already knew that the building was lethal. When construction began on the site, back when the former Amish farmers market/coliseum building was torn down, my father's office was across the street. Around the same time, my father began to develop a hacking cough and chronic chest pain. A few weeks later he visited a doctor who decided that my father's lungs and esophagus were burned. The only explanation was the construction dust from the site. Fortunately, his office moved downtown shortly after that. I also recall construction supplies being blown off the building in a wind storm last year as well. Bad building, bad!
So with some trepidation and a family blood feud brewing, I visited the building for lunch last Saturday. It didn't look evil--it just looked like a mall. We had lunch at the Whole Foods made peace over a falafel wrap and chocolate macaroons. Its a truce really. The building won't kill my family members in its bloodlust and I have to have lunch there whenever I'm on the west side. (I think I got the better side of the deal).
Easter rocket war hits Greek isle: "So-called 'gangs' from the two rival parishes - Saint Mark and Panagia Erithiani - spend months preparing more than 25,000 rockets... The objective is to hit the other church's bell, but many rockets go astray, causing locals to rush frantically for cover. And some say they are sick of having to repair their damaged homes."
HappyWill and I were pitted against each other in an Easter egg hunt around the my parents' yard. Some eggs were real--the others were plastic and filled with either loose change or jelly beans. HappyWill found all the eggs with change, must to my disappointment. He's three--he's going to fritter it away on cookies and lollypops instead of properly investing it in a mutual fund. He'll have to learn the hard way.
The Peep was not long for this world. It was, however, very politely eaten with a fork.
Last Friday my brother and I were in Chicago to see the Decemberists. I don't have much to add to his account that's wildly different from his account (besides that the Clearlake male singer looked like Tilda Swinton) except as below.
Apples: "In the beginning, or fairly early on, there were apples and they caused all kinds of bother, as you will no doubt be aware. All that business with the snakes and the knowledge has left mankind with a right old mess to sort out as well as a physiological legacy. But here we are, centuries down the line, and the old 'forbidden fruit' continues to be at the core (sorry) of human strife."
Sonic Youth on Nirvana: "Mainstream rock lost its kingpin group, an unlikely one imbued with avant-garde genius, and contemporary rock became harder and meaner, more aggressive and dumbed down and sexist. Rage and aggression were elements for Kurt to play with as an artist... He was sincere in his distaste for bullyboy music — always pronouncing his love for queer culture, feminism and the punk rock do-it-yourself ideal."
Jonathan Lethem's novel The Fortress Of Solitude is probably more correctly two novels with an interlude. The first half concerns itself with the friendship Dylan and Mingus; the second half focuses mostly on the continuing effects of childhood into adulthood. The Dylan character always felt arm's length from the me. If asked if he would do A or B or C, I wouldn't be able to guess. After spending 500 pages in someone's head, I thought the relationship would be closer. Still, I enjoyed it.
It was entirely possible that one song could destroy your life. Yes, musical doom could fall on a lone human form and crush it like a bug. The song, that song, was sent from somewhere else to find you, to pick the scab of your whole existence... At the very least the song was a soundtrack to your destruction...
The third main character of the novel is Brooklyn in all its gritty glory.
You could grow up in the city where history was made and still miss it all.
Not to call yourself a zombie. But you did stalk an unreal city.
We missed the gay marriage binge earlier this year, but Brian is now officially my domestic partner in the eyes of my health insurance provider (for dental only). We didn't register or anything, though we do need some new toothpaste, maybe some floss. I called my provider to ask about a question on the form that wanted a check mark for either 'married' or 'single'. She puts me on hold for a few minutes, then she comes back to tell me just not to mark it either way. Brian is celebrating with two root canals later this week.
Wonderfalls is officially cancelled after only four aired episodes. That's too bad since I was just getting into the show--and next week the cow creamer was going to begin speaking to Jaye. The producers filmed thirteen episodes to complete one story arc so sign the petition for release on DVD.
William suggested I pick up a book that William S. Burroughs wrote on his relationship with cats, titled The Cat Inside. How could I possible not? Weirdo beats and cats are two of my favorite things. The book is mostly filled with anecdotes and dreams about cats in his life. The cat is the human's psychic companion, so he says, though there is no mention supposed nobility of finding a hairball in your sneaker as you are about to put it on.
A cat’s rage is beautiful, burning with a pure cat flame, all its hair standing up and crackling blue sparks, eye blazing and sputtering. But a dog’s snarl is ugly... When you see that snarl you are looking at something that has no face of its own. A dog’s rage is not his. It is dictated by his trainer. And lynch-mob rage is dictated by conditioning.
According to Burroughs, foxes are akin to cats though biology says otherwise.
Below is the official matins spring 2004 mix. It will accompany all soundtrack passages of life and fill in all pregnant pauses from April until June.
"Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)" Nancy Sinatra
"Crystal Clear" The Fiery Furnaces
"Toto Dies" Nellie McKay
"Steve McQueen" Lambchop
"New Trouble" Slumber Party
"Willowy" Isan
"Shall Have Wings" Wunder
"Come Home Billy Bird" The Divine Comedy
"I Can't Pretend Anymore" Cyann & Ben
"The Valleys" Electrelane
"Flamboyant" Pet Shop Boys
"Oh What A World" Rufus Wainwright
"Run Into Flowers" M83
"Louie, Louie" Julie London
"Weary Life" Linda Thompson
"As We Go Along" the Monkees
"California" Phantom Planet
In August I can listen again with a glimmer of nostalgia back the heyday of the second quarter. Ah, memories...
