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Lifted from the lovely Janice and the wonderful Mike over at Copacetic.


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Less productive than ever

I bitch about work a lot. Well, mainly the hours that I work, but for all that bitching, my job is actually pretty decent.

I listen to Day to Day. I listen to All Things Considered. I've got to hear Lakshmi Singh at least once a day. If I'm so inclined, I'll make room for Diane Rehm. Sometimes I'll listen to This American Life. I do the crossword. I listen to and download music. I bring my Netflix movies with me and play them on my Mac. Now, to detract from working even more, Netflix is streaming their movies for PC users. So I have an entire library of movies from which to choose. I recently watched The Hours (holy crap, that movie sucked!) and Gay Sex in the 70's (holy crap, that movie sucked!). Plus, there's this site which has allowed me to catch the ever-dreamy John Barrowman in the spin-off series to Dr. Who (think Men In Black meets the X-Files). But I still do my work. I still meet my deadlines--and our "on-time" report has increased since my promotion. So I'm allowed these little perks, right?

Last Friday was fiesta Friday. I made some pretty killer fajitas (marinate chicken in canola oil, orange juice, lime juice, cilantro, garlic, jalepeno and serrano for at least 8 hours before cooking). We have a skillet here and I reheated the chicken/onion/peppers on it. They sizzled in a corner of the lab while we poured margaritas. You heard right, margaritas. After the meal, my four co-workers and I took shots of Hornito's and then took turns taking siestas.

Even on non-fiesta nights, most of us take naps.

But, yeah, I complain a lot still (I mean, I only get to see Phil like 2 days a week).

And truthfully, I would probably process many more images if I didn't constantly distract myself with things--things like this blog . . .

But until my schedule allows spontaneity, I will continue to be less than optimally productive.

INLAND EMPIRE

Wednesday night I had the pleasure of viewing David Lynch's newest film, INLAND EMPIRE at the Cinerama. Mr. Lynch was in attendance and fielded questions afterward from effusive fans.

What was my take on the movie?
Well, it should come as no surprise that I enjoyed it thoroughly. I was intimidated by the run-time, but made sure I evacuated my bladder and bowels minutes before the film began. And what it film it is. This is Lynch's first film shot on digital video, and the textures, color and lighting are beautiful. My only issue with the vidoegraphy comes from the handheld bounciness. Other than that, Lynch is able to create images as you know he's always imagined them--blacks so black that you don't realize they're grey until a darker silhouette moves through the frame, highlights so overblown that you can feel your retinas tingle. And his imagery is so stacked and belongs so thoroughly to him--Its hard not to think of Guild Navigators when all you see of an overlit face with mouth ajar is its uvula. Its hard not to think of Angelo Badalamenti spitting out coffee onto a napkin when Laura Dern is vomiting blood onto the Hollywood walk of fame.

I have said before (and I maintain) that spoilers do not really exist. The art of film (and literature) does not come in the story, but in the telling. A film is not ruined merely because you know that the main character is already dead going into the film. A professor of mine and I had a discussion once about Hitchcock. We got onto the topic of Psycho and he talked about Hitchcock's brilliance for forcing the audience to relate to Norman Bates after Janet Leigh is killed off. I said that I, and most like a majority of my peers, could not watch the film that way. Before we even saw the film, we knew that Norman wore his mother's clothes and killed the guests at the inn. Does that make Psycho any less powerful of a film? I truly don't think so.

If I told you that Laura Dern plays a prostitute, a wife, an actress, and an abuse victim, and that all of them might be roles an actress is playing, or all of them may be different aspects of the same person, you don't really have a context to place that information--but that is really all you know. Lynch gives you everything early on. Themes and situations recur with different tones and moods, and before you know it, the end credits are rolling. The film sits on your subconscious like a firecracker snake lit by a madman, and as it expands, it smolders.

On my Lynch-o-meter, I would put it behind Fire Walk With Me, Mulholland Drive, and Eraserhead but in front of Lost Highway, Blue Velvet, and Wild at Heart.

Thoughts in other places

I have a couple posts in the draft stage, but for some reason I can't get around to finishing them. One is about David Lynch's newest film and the other is about my favorite tracks from 2006. Yes, both are long overdue. Then there's a whole 'nother post about my date with that sweet, romantic guy on Friday. I haven't even started that one.

But I wanted to take this time to talk about how blogging has affected my life and how relating stories pulls us closer together in our modern age. To paraphrase my good friend Joseph Campbell, religion is literally a link(ing) to the past. Of course, the way we link to the past is through our stories and our mythologies. I'm not a religious man, but the more I write, the more I relate to and merely relate stories and, as a result, the more pious I become.

Some of my closest friends keep on-line journals. I have met people I otherwise never would have known if it weren't for the stories they told. I will continue to because of their willingness to share their stories.

I don't remember how I was introduced to Aaron. I knew almost instantaneously, however, that he was someone to whom I could relate. He felt the desire to expand the dialectic of the gay experience, and his voice belied a sensitivity that so few people possess. He told me about his softball team and his volleyball team--how he began to fell less isolated through his interaction with other gay men. He told me how he cooked bacon outside to prevent the smell from permeating the house (to which I replied, "Why would anyone want to conceal the smell of bacon?"). Once, he told me about a co-worker of his who hugged him on a regular basis just so she could feel some sort of connection. It made him question the human conditions of solitude and lonelines. I told him one of my favorite quotes--"We are here to awaken from the illusion of our separateness"--and hoped that those words would provide some solace.

Recently, his boyfriend began telling his story. I know Casey even less than I know Aaron, but if I lived in Minneapolis, I would be their annoying friend. The one who calls everyday. The one who asks if they need anything. The one who tries to distract them. The one who pretends that nothing is awful. Luckily, it seems that they have many people in their support system who can tell them stories and make them feel connected.

That 80's Show

I know you've been all atwitter wondering what gems from the 80's the Men's Chorus have culled for the spring show. Well, you're lucky to know me, because I have the inside scoop.

Here's the only catch, if you read the list of tunes below, you are obligated to attend a performance. Even if you live in Boston (or are on sabbatical in Boston). You are even more obligated if you live in the greater Seattle area. Are we clear? Good.

So here's the line up:

Opening medley - Mr. Robato/I'm So Excited/Celebration/I'm Coming Out/Let's Hear It for the Boy/Ready for the 80's

The gym medley - Physical/Muscles/I Know What Boys Like/Don't You Want Me/Another One Bites the Dust

Gentlemen callers medley - Who Can It Be Now/Smooth Operator/You Should Hear How She Talk About You/Call Me

Sweet Dreams

Cars medley - Drive/Cars/Get Outta My Dreams, Get Into My Car/Freeway of Love/Pink Cadillac

True Colors (a capella)

Science medley - Weird Science/She Blinded Me with Science

Rock Me, Amadeus

Video medley - Mickey/Maniac/Whip It/Heaven Is a Place on Earth/Addicted to Love/Thriller

Movie medley - Xanadu/Flashdance/We Don't Need Another Hero/It Might Be You/Let the River Run/Up Where We Belong/Wind Beneath My Wings/Arthur's Theme/Making Love/Fame/Ghostbusters

Girls medley - Material Girl/Uptown Girl/Rich Girl/Rosanna/Billie Jean/Bette Davis Eyes/To All the Girls I've Loved Before/Venus/Simply Irresistible/Girls Just Want to Have Fun

Anthem (from Chess)

Closing medley - Shout/Karma Chameleon/Walk Like an Egyptian/I Wanna Dance with Somebody/Hungry Like the Wolf/Never Gonna Give You Up/Ready for the 80's (reprise)

(Encore)

It's Raining Men

Holy. Crap. That's a lotta music! I hope I learn it all--well, if all else fails, I'll just sing the melody, cuz lord knows I know that!

Mock me with praise

So, you know what my favorite musical is.
Next in line (and not too-distant a cousin musically and lyrically) is Sondheim's Company.
I was just telling Risa and Keith about it this weekend at dinner. It introduced a little-homo Jeremy to an alcohol-drenched Elaine Stritch. Even as a youth I connected on some level with her version of "Ladies Who Lunch." (Little did I know that it was a staple for drag queens the world over.)
Anyway, the newest version of Company on Broadway has been getting lots of hype. Its directed by the same guy who recently brought back Sondheim's "Sweeney Todd." Yeah, you heard about it, all the actors double as musicians. So they're all on-stage all the time and people like Patti LuPone have the chance to wow you even more by displaying their prowess on an instrument.
So that's the same set up for the new version of Company. Some people like it. Others, not so much.
The cast album doesn't come out until March 6th, but some pirate-y type person has taken it upon themselves to upload video clips of the newest production to YouTube.
Below is the show's centerpiece--"Being Alive." In bad productions of Company, Bobby is merely the hub around which the cast of zany Gothamites rotate. In a good production of Company (and this to me, looks like a good production), Bobby's inability to break free from his bachelorhood is the reason the rest of the cast appears so zany. So, I guess what I'm saying is, Bobby is the lens through which the rest of the cast is viewed--so by the time we get to "Being Alive," it either resonates because Bobby was portrayed well, or just falls flat, because, who really cares about this 35 year-old bachelor who can't commit.

Anyway, that's just my take on the whole thing.

So, here is the amazing Raul Esparza taking a huge bite of the number. Enjoy!

I know, I know

Hey, happy new year and stuff!
I know, its been forever. I apologize if I worried you, but fer real, get a grip, I've got to have a life, too. The past two weeks, or so, were my downtime. My return to me time.
Its like Geoffrey Jellineck would say, "I'm not pushing you away. I'm pulling me toward myself."
So, I deleted all your emails (sorry). Didn't return your phone calls (my bad). And haven't posted in a coon's age (is "coon's age" racist?).
My parents didn't even hear from me until Saturday, if that makes you feel any better--my own parents, I tells ya!

So today marks my return to proper society. No more extended stays in bed. No more ordering pizza. No more putting things off because I can.

I've got choir practice tonight. I know, I thought it was over, too. I did, however, promise them a year of my life. Rehearsal tonight is for the spring show which is "That 80's Show." I'm not too sure on the song line-up but I know we're doing a medley of "She Blinded Me with Science" and "Weird Science." Hopefully Bonnie Tyler's "Total Eclipse of the Heart" will surface. I just learned over the weekend that she's Welsh (thanks, VH1). So it kind of killed my personal fantasy of Kim Carnes and her in some biker bar in Arizona doing whiskey shots and saying stuff like, "Guuurrrrl" and, "He done you wrong!" They would be wearing leather chaps, natch.

Anyway, the advent of choir practice marks a return to world. Happy new year! Here's how mine looks thus far:

"Old Joy" is in town until next Thursday. I've been excited for this film for quite some time. I hope to make it up to NWFF before the run ends. They also have a short run (1/12 - 1/18) of "51 Birch Street" which I would like to see, but common sense tells me I'll be luck to catch just one of these gems.

Next Wednesday is, of course, David Lynch at the Cinerama. Only one thing will keep me from this--death.

Friday the 19th is the opening party for Make Your Own Life at the Henry. Phil and I are going to hit it up after a lovely dinner overlooking Elliot Bay at Anthony's Home Port.

Oh, speaking of good dinners, Risa, Keith and I went to Peso's this past Saturday (after Risa and I saw Dreamgirls). I had a killer fried stuffed chicken breast. It was stuffed finely diced portabellos, tomatillos, onions and sage. It was a little dry, but the whole thing was served on a pillow of garlic mashed potatoes and drenched in a an amazing jalepeno, roasted red pepper cream gravy. And we were at Peso's. And it was a game day. And there were shiny-shirt guys. And I didn't even care.

Oh so speaking of Risa and Keith--their day is nigh. February 17th they'll tie the knot. I've been working on what exactly I'll say (if you've been keeping up, I'm officiating the ceremony). So that, coupled with Matt's birthday will be my February.

March will be Tennille's birthday, plus a weekend long retreat with the chorus. This could actually be my breaking point with the organization, but we'll see.

April is Phil's birthday, and that's it.

May is home to Texas for an extended stretch. The old man will turn 70. I can't believe it. My parents are still the same as when I was in high school in my mind. In reality, they are getting old.

So that's the way the year is shaping up.

My only resolution for this year is to dance more. I used to go out dancing at least once a week. Now, its once in a blue moon (which is June 1st if you're keeping track).

I hope to add some much needed structure to the blog. Like Friday posts will be pop culture/out-on-the town. Monday posts will be a glimpse at my fractured psyche, and Wednesdays I'll post about other bloggers' posts or something.
Knowing me, this idea will be chucked.

Ok, so, that's it. Its good to be back. I missed you, too. I promise I won't be so distant.

Black Christmas From Hell

Sounds a lot worse than it was (except I did have to work).

Another dead bunny

This one is even more absurder than the last. I mean a 9 minute 12 second tribute? These have to be jokes, right? Well, even if they're not, they make me laugh hysterically--this one for nine minutes twelve seconds continuously.

Best Xmas present ever . . .

Maggie gave me the greatest gift last night. Besides her presence at last night's choir concert with her sweet boyfriend Tony, Maggie gave me a ticket to see INLAND EMPIRE at the Cinerama on January 17th. This will be the northwest premiere, and Mr. Lynch will be in attendance.
This is the second Lynch related gift Maggie has given me--the first was a ticket to see his Transcendental Meditation tour at the UW. The focus of that lecture wasn't really my cup o' tea, but I did enjoy the free form Q&A where I learned things like where the Black Lodge came from and things about his artistic process in general.
This gift is WAY cooler because it is accompanied by the much anticipated (by me at least) INLAND EMPIRE.
You can expect a full report about the event--and this time, I'm bringing my Blue Velvet screenplay and Lynch on Lynch book for him to sign.

Oh, if you're curious about getting yourself a ticket (a bargain at $20) I believe Maggie said you can get them at Scarecrow--a web site I found also says at Seattle Art Museum (but isn't it closed?).

Oh, and I also want to just quickly apologize to all of the people I have flaked out/bailed on lately (especially you, Bill). Most of it has to do with choir, some of it has to do with out of town visitors, some of it has to do with my stupid schedule. I am sorry and my first priority in the new year is to be a better friend who has a better idea of how to properly manage his time.

This week looks crazier than most--tonight, cast party. Tomorrow night, top-secret early Xmas present for a dashing young man. Then comes the bend-me-over-and-make-it-hurt home stretch of performance-work-sleep 3 hours-matinee performance-sleep 4 hours-performance-work-sleep. Yeah, that last sleep spell will probably near twelve hours. Yes, I do have the ability to sleep for twelve hours.

If posting is light, my apologies.

Strictly for the hardcore

Here it is. The long awaited OKDJ vol. 9

Its really nothing special. I'd probably put it behind 7 and 8. Its really just a collection of newish tracks that I wanted together on one mix.

It doesn't have Tracy Thorn's new one. I tried to fit it in, and its really good. Ewan Pearson and Darshan Jesrani did the music for it. It just didn't fit into the mix. So, instead, you can download that track here.

Without futher ado,

OKDJ vol. 9

Good Evening (Supermayer Remix) - Geiger With Kompakt's labelhead giving the rework, you know this track nears perfection. The main reason I like it is for the Kurtis Blow vocals that have been completely irradiated.

Al Qudus - Oliver Klein, Martin Eyerer I've enjoyed Martin's work for a long time and I really like the syncopation that sounds like a mistake at the beginning of the song.

Everything's Electric feat. DJ Heather (Acid Demo Mix) - Brett Johnson Uh, DJ Heather on vocals, Brett Johnson and acid. You don't have to tell me twice.

Shake and Pop feat. Walter Phillips (Original Mix) - Green Velvet I don't give a shit if this track was everywhere. I don't have it on anything, except my memory from fun nights out (like the MSTRKRFT show at Chop Suey).

Another Station (Todd Terje remix) - Lindstrom This is why Lindstrom is considered space disco. And this is why I love him.

Push Push (M.A.N.D.Y.'s Pusher Remix) - Rockers Hi-Fi Generally I shy away from any reggae inflected dance music. Yes, I understand that we probably wouldn't have modern dance music if it weren't for the dubplate, but I kinda hate dub. Anyway, MANDY kicks ass and this track is no exception.

Faults N FX - Justus Kohncke Another great track from the unstoppable Justus.

3 Weeks (Booka Shade Dub Mix) - Tiga Booka Shade remixing Tiga. Yeah, I picked the dub version, but I already felt that the mix was too vocal heavy.

Pate Mo Tou Vae (Original Mix) - Einmusik I've championed Einmusik for a while (like they need it). To my ears, they haven't ever really had a definitive sound, but they continually craft quality tracks. This one, to me, sounds a bit like Danny Tenaglia on his more tribal days.

Jack Rock - Cassius Love. This. Track.

Hope you enjoy, would love your feedback!

Pics-n-stuff

That's my mom, me and my dad from the show on Sunday.

Risa and Keith--whose wedding I will be performing in February, me and Janice, my dearest friend from all the way back in the 8th grade.

Speaking of Keith, he has joined the blogging community--go check out Third Floor, Corner Unit!

His space holiday

You know that cold commercial where the animated character's head is a baloon and its floating above his body? That's sort of the way I feel, only not congested, or with a fever or cough. I just feel disconnected.

Maybe its because I had a wonderful couple of days with the guy. On Friday, I met him downtown at the Starbuck's in front of Westlake. Then we walked through some of the stores to find our outfits for the evening's party. It was a pretty painless affair, and, don't laugh, but the Gap came through again. Cheap-ish. Stylish-ish. A shirt from Banana. Then shoes from Payless--hey, if its good enough for Star Jones-Reynolds, its good enough for me. And finally a tie from the Rack. Cheap, definitely, but you have to keep in mind that the outfits were purchased with the expectation that some drink, food, vomit would spatter onto them during the course of the evening.

So we left the Rack and it was time to reveal my big secret. "One more stop," I said. And we made our way to 5th avenue. I'm pretty sure he had no idea where we were headed, and as we neared the Ramada, I said, "Oh, by the way, we don't have to go all the way back to my house because I got a room here." Champagne and beer was in the sink. We showered and got ready. The monorail passed occasionally in front of our window. I think we took entirely too long getting ready, but we kept getting distracted.

Then it was off to the employee party at the swank Hotel 1000. We had a few. We mingled. I introduced him as my boyfriend and it was only a little awkward at first. And it got easier as the night went on (for him, too). I shook the CEO's hand and I wanted to say, "Thank you for continually championing gay rights," or, "Thanks for being such an in-touch corporate leader," but I only said my name and shook his hand. He really is a good guy. He's a big homo. Been with his partner for a while. They're raising a kid. Plus, he's a board member of PATH. Anyway, two of my employees showed--which is 50%, not bad. The bad part is, both were totally lit. One was saying, "Oh yeah, Jeremy? He's a great boss. He lets us drink and make our own hours." Both statements are marginally true. Thankfully, they are both refutable. The food at the party ran out quickly so Phil and I left. It was happy hour across the street at McCormick & Schmicks. $1.95 burgers and $1.95 fried mozzerella (and not mozz. sticks, either). Then it was back to the hotel, where we talked about our feelings and really got to know each other on a deeper level.

The next morning, the sweetest guy in the world ran to Top Pot and grabbed a doughnut or three and some OJ and swung into Bartell's for some Advil. We checked out at noon. Left our bags at the front desk and went to see Casino Royale at the Cinerama. It was ok, but way too long and I was expecting more Daniel Craig exploitation--ok, ok, he was naked tied to a chair, but there was something completely missing in the film, and I think that thing was a good editor.

So then it was back home to a Tivo'd Battlestar. Phil came with me and we had a whole 'nother night together, which was nice. And I think that he only left me yesterday morning, and it feels like a world away because . . .

My parents arrived yesterday afternoon. They picked me up and presented me with their Christmas gifts. Every year my mother asks me what I want and I send her an explicit lists--a click-and-buy-list, a nearest-retailer-list--but I should have learned by now that those lists are completely pointless. Brand names, styles, cuts and color mean nothing to my mother. Her shopping consists of taking my list and finding the closest approximation at Wal-Mart. This year, I asked for an Adidas gym bag. The one I got has so much crap all over it (climbing rope, key chains) that I'm not even sure I can get into it. Then, I also get the other present--the one I didn't ask for, but for some reason, she thinks it would make a good gift. This year, that present is a waffle iron. That's cool. I'll use it. I'm sure the roomies would enjoy a nice waffle now and again. Its better than my 30th birthday M&M dispenser. But I make it sound a lot worse than it is, they also give me cash.

So then we went to dinners at, surprise, surprise, McCormick and Schmicks. The place has that 50's feel with white linens, napkins tented at each seat, and dark wood everywhere. Plus, besides having one of the best happy hour food menus in town, it also serves some of the freshest seafood. The conversation had that strange affectation of separateness that is hard to convey. I will say this, when the Cowboy game came on in the bar, it became much harder to keep my father's attention. I will also say that for two people so far out of their element, it is nice that they at least make the attempt to step outside of their box.

So then they went to the show, and I think they actually enjoyed it. My father said he liked the Rockettes--which, of course, was guys in drag. I mean, dude's old and senile, but I think he realized that it was guys in drag. My mom commented on Jesus being taken out of "In This Very Room." But, like I said, they were outside of their comfort zone, and I think they had a good time.

Huge thanks to Janice, Risa, and Keith for showing up and saying, "Hey" to the folks and me. What was your perception of my parents' reactions?

Oh, and speaking of friends, Maggie, I can't wait to see you next week for the show! Drinks after for sure. I'm calling you this week.

Oh, and speaking of being a bad son. Lynnie, I'm SOSOSO sorry I didn't get you those discs. I hope your party went well and I'll get you music very, very soon.

So, we're drinking tonight in the vault. Maybe that's why I'm spacey. But really, its more the worlds colliding and dust settling feeling. You know I'm having a bloody tomorrow with the folks at breakfast.

Why I sing

I've gone over some of the reasons why I chose to join the Men's Chorus this year. First and foremost, I enjoy singing. Secondly, the prospect of performing on stage at both Benaroya and McCaw Halls was pretty enticing. The final aspect had to do with something more esoteric--I wanted to find out just how I would fit in with a large group of gay men. I thought I would have stories to relate on this blog, and that I would be able to chidingly point at the stereotypes that gay men so often fulfill.






On Sunday, I performed in front of 2500 people at Benaroya Hall and the experience was overall very good. I looked rather dapper in my tux, and I only screwed up a little in a couple of the songs. (Oh, and I still sound like shit in that damn Ave Maria.)


I did understand something that I didn't before--the sound of applause from all of those people, really does give a sense of belonging to the larger community. After the show, I walked out to the lobby, and talked to some of the patrons. One elderly woman told me that she had come every year for the past 11 years, and it didn't feel like Christmas to her until she saw our show. A lesbian and her partner both confided that they preferred the Men's Chorus to the Women's. I saw children running up to and hugging the guys that were dressed as reindeer. "Look, there's another one," one mom said, and her daughter went tearing through the crowd to hug the next reindeer.


I'm not trying to say that I had some big epiphany. It wasn't a life altering moment or anything. It was maybe a tiny epiphany--one that allowed me to put my chiding pointer finger firmly in my pocket. I was able to forgive this organization which, through its existence, perpetuates subset stereotypes, like circuit boys, bears, label whores, theater queens, and the like. For some members, the chorus provides their entire social structure. I used to think those people were sad--and I do believe that they should step outside of that particular structure on occasion--but, now I realize that these people would probably have no social interactions without the chorus. Perhaps more important than the functions the chorus provides for the members is the visibility it provides for the gay community.


My parents will be here on Sunday to see the show. I don't believe either know that it is a gay men's chorus, but really, doesn't that go without saying? I have been "out" for almost half of my life; yet, when it comes to my parents, I am still made to feel duplicitous and that I should carry more shame. I wouldn't be lying if I said that I hope they don't feel slightly ashamed of their prejudice and bigotry when surrounded by 2498 people who respect gays and lesbians and the vital part of the community we play (even if that part is a bit minstrel-y).





[I don't know if I just made any sense, but I'm too tired to go back and read the whole thing. I've been writing the post on and off throughout my shift down here in the vault.]

Flat

I told a joke at my management seminar on Thursday which fell horribly flat.

Seminar Leader: Now we are going to do some role-playing.

Jeremy: Aww man, I left my 20-sided die at home.

[cricket, cricket]

I sang (and still sing) the chorus' version of Ave Maria pretty flat. It is a song that exists firmly at my bridge. I am constantly switching from chest to head voice, and, as a result, I frequently come in under pitch.

I am flat-out smitten with Michael Mayer's newest, Immer 2 and, not surprisingly, M.A.N.D.Y.'s newest, At the Controls. All three discs--M.A.N.D.Y.'s is a double-discer--represent the sounds that get me movin'. Mayer culls from disco to show the trajectory of dance music and M.A.N.D.Y. puts together a collection of sounds that range from Cat Stevens to Claude von Stroke. Both are worth checking out.

Compare and Contrast

I know, I know, you want substance, but I am unable to deliver that right now.

Instead, I give you "Superstar" as interpreted by Sonic Youth and in its original form by the Carpenters. Risa and I were discussing the Youth's interpretation last week on our way to see "Native Son" at the Intiman, and since yesterday was Risa's birthday, I figured, I'd give her a trip down memory lane.

Consider the following while watching the videos:
Karen and Richard Carpenter are siblings. Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon look alike. The names Karen Carepenter and Kim Gordon both equal 8 numerologically. 8 is the number of roadies the Carpenters had on their final tour. Sonic Youth cites The Velvet Underground as an influence. Richard Carpenter slept with Nico. Anorexia is not a disease. Sarah MacLachlan's "Posession" contains similar themes to ones expressed in this song.



Or, just enjoy. (Play them simultaneously if you like.)

Two great tastes

I hope everyone had a lovely Thanksgiving. Mine would have better had I not had to work.
Anyway, I know I should make a real post, but I came across the video below last night and I had to share it.

Yeah. That's right. Juice Newton AND Dolly Parton.

Oh, and posting will most likely be light in the coming weeks.

This week looks like this:

Tues. - Tech. Rehearsal

Weds. - Dress Rehearsal

Thurs. - Reading at the Henry

Fri. - launder/clean

Sat. - Concert in Everett

Sun. - Concert in Seattle

Coming weeks look similar with an employee party, a visit from the folks, and more concerts on the horizon.

And before I forget, I'd like to give a shoutout to my girl Risa, who turns the tender age of 31 today.

Moratorium

As we enter this festive holiday season, I would like to take the time to remind you that the following two phrases have been redacted from popular American colloquiality:

Good to go

Good call

I would also like to address a specific subset of a minority group who have also beaten a decaying horse:

To homosexual men who identify as "bears" or "otters," and, more generally, to homosexual men who have adopted aforementioned subset's proclivity to objectify a man by naming him "woofy:"

The woof phenomenon is over. It ended in 1983. I realize, you were a senior in high school in 1983, but we can let go now, okay? You don't need to bark like a dog to express your interest in an attractive man. This sort of juvenilia will result in your being referred to as a Voodoo Queen. Or perhaps just SugarTits.

So please, be aware of your conversations this Thanksgiving, and make a conscious effort to remove (even if only temporarily) these inanities from our discourse.

Oh, and happy Thanksgiving!

She drives Veronica cars

Time for a good ol' fashioned TV update.

Yes, BSG is still the best show on TV. As my good buddy PJ would say, "If it weren't for BSG, Veronica Mars would be the best show on TV." Hear, hear!

Quippy, at times silly, and always couched in the detective genre, VM rises above its limitations week after week. Even though this season has laid some of the series' more interesting constructs by the wayside (such as the class struggle), VM is still shot and acted better than 99.9% of television shows. So it was with great joy that I read it has been picked up for seven more episodes this season!

Adding to the already impressive list of guest stars--Paris Hilton, Lisa Rinna, Harry Hamlin, Stephen King, Alyson Hannigan, Charisma Carpenter, Joss Whedon, Ed Begley, Jr., Laura san Giacomo, and Richard Grieco--Patty Hearst (you know, of Stockholm Syndrome fame) will be on tonight's episode. I hope she remembers that you can't wear white after labor day.

Oh, and in case you missed it, the boyfriend (cuz, I guess that's what we're calling each other now) gave me permission to share his blog with you, gentle reader, in a previous post's comments. Please direct all comments regarding said young man to this post's comment section. If you have any questions, I will attempt to answer them as well, unless the question revolves around a topic lascivious in nature.

Like when a clown gets cancer

I can't help it. This cracks me up.

I don't care if I'm a heartless bastard. When I want to smile, I watch this.