What is it about listening to The Pretenders album Learning to Crawl (1984) that makes me feel like all is right with the world? Well, let's see, the first two tracks KILL --> Middle of the Road and Back on the Chain Gang. Not to mention Thin Line Between Love and Hate and 2000 Miles. Don't take my word for it, listen for yourself! While you're at it, revisit Talk of the Town from Pretenders II (1981) and the beauty Don't Get Me Wrong from Get Close (1986).
Yesterday M & I drove to Pomona, NY with the intention of apple picking. Since it started raining (and was chilly chilly chilly) we decided to just hit the Orchards of Concklin farmer's market. Upon walking through the doors, the market smelled like a combination of apple cider, cinnamon donuts and fallen leaves. Oh Mama, I'm in Heaven!
Autumn has been my favorite time of year ever since I was a child *. Growing up, my father paid my sibs and I $1 for every garbage bag of leaves we raked up in our front yard -- that is until he realized we were not filling the bags completely to make more cash. Anyway. Before putting the leaves into the garbage bags, we always raked gigantic piles of leaves and took turns jumping in. We had zero qualms about getting dirty, or about bugs -- just the perfect soft crunch of leaves beneath us.
The older I get though, the more I hear whiny New Yorkers giving Autumn a bad rep."You think this is cold, wait a few more weeks..." or "This is just the beginning of the end." Waaaah waaaah waaah.
Can't we let the Fall exist on its own without the negative attachment to Winter? Sure, Fall is short-lived, especially in Upstate, NY (shout out to my Rochester peeps!) where today there are leaves and tomorrow there is snow. For now though, the leaves are still turning, the kids are still picking out their perfect costumes, and the cider is piping hot. Put on some gloves and enjoy already!
* To make my obsession with Fall even worse, only three days separate Halloween from my birthday in November. Dressing up in costume, getting immense amounts of chocolate and still having enough candy left over three days later when I get presents and cake?? What's not to like??
ever since my gf & i moved to carroll gardens, brooklyn, we have been surrounded by babies. baby shops, babies in strollers, babies in papooses - babies everywhere! this would be totally fine for everyone involved if i didn't have baby fever.
i am constantly smiling like a lunatic and/or waving at babies (and toddlers). because of this, parents' reactions usually range from smiling back at me to shooting me death stares. parents, let me be clear: i am not a psycho baby stealer, i'm just a 32 (almost 33) year old woman whose biological clock is ticking and who has recently watched too many episodes of TLC's A Baby Story. i also may or may not be ovulating.
lately, my all-time favorite thing to see is a toddler strolling a baby doll in a mini-stroller next to his or her actual full-size stroller that the parent is strolling. since i'm an expert, there are basically two types of stroll-imitations going on in this scenario - one, the toddler who is totally overcautious about strolling his or her baby doll correctly, and two, the toddler who is completely spastic and running into parking meters. shout out, of course, to the suburban variation of this activity - a toddler with a mini-plastic lawn mower "mowing" the lawn beside the parent doing the actual mowing. something about these mini-imitations just get me, you know? don't even get me started on baby sneakers.
West Coast: Welcome to Trader Joe's. East Coast: Yeah, hi. Where are the carts? West Coast: Right behind you. They sure are easy to miss, aren't they? East Coast: I meant baskets. Where are the baskets? I don't need a whole cart. West Coast: Here, you can have mine. (East Coast walks away but West Coast doesn't notice. West Coast continues speaking). Someone must have left it...you know people leave their baskets lying around all the time, they really should move them or someone could have a nasty spill --
Act Two
West Coast: The organic bananas are the best. East Coast: I gotta pay twenty cents more for smaller, bruised bananas? West Coast: Oh, they're not too bruised. Plus it's so much better to buy organic. East Coast: I'll just go to the street vendor.
Act Three
West Coast: Would you like a sample of our Trader Joe's Morning blend coffee? It's a nice medium bodied -- East Coast: (cutting WC off) Milk and sugar. West Coast: Oh, you do that yourself right over there. East Coast: Forget it then.
Tuesday was busy busy (thus the delay). Good news though: not only did Margot and I find a great place to live in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn - but we are also both recently employed! w00t!
To honor these recent events, I give you Richie Havens! Specifically, Richie's performance of "Freedom" from a little festival you might have heard of called Woodstock. Check out the way he uses his gigantic thumb to form some of these chords. Insane!
okay, so it's really not our 318th day of looking for a new apartment, but the scalding hot temperatures in NYC, six floor walk-ups & dead cockroaches are pretty much descriptors of a living hell, right? i thought so.
here's a recent picture of margot and i looking for a place in williamsburg. we decided to get pretty gussied up to meet with the broker. would you believe that studio is $5000/ mo?
where i wake up several times a night and stay up in 30-45 minute intervals each time. luckily i'm not turning on the TV where i'd be bombarded with loud infomercials trying to sell me something so clever that i might just buy it (the Ov Glove, or god help me, the ShamWow). but i've found a substitute for TV that's even worse for me. go on, guess. yes! you are so smart. the internet.
as if checking my email five thousand times per millisecond weren't enough. i suppose this blog isn't helping matters either.
one positive aspect of my recent insomnia is that i can remember my dreams. just last night i dreamt that joni mitchell and i were shoveling big piles of snow and talking about music biz. she really is very kind to take the time to chat with my subconcious.
other famous people i have met over the years in dreams include: annie lennox, natalie merchant, jennifer aniston x 3, michael keaton, ray bradbury, julie andrews, and angelina jolie. btw, angelina was bottomless in the dream & asked beth and i to "play the pants game" - where the first one of us to find angelina's pants would get to make-out with her. guess who won?
a man on the downtown 1 train wears a t-shirt that has an arrow facing up and another arrow facing down. the text referencing the up arrow reads "the man," and the text referencing the down arrow reads, "the legend."
Now that I'm back from Kansas (blog entry to come) and settling back into my routine ala Manhattan, which includes sweating profusely and cursing at rats in the subway tracks, it's time for the Tuesday Music Pick.
Neil Diamond. Neil. F*cking. Diamond.
I'm not talking any new release or anything. I'm talking the livedouble album Hot August Night recorded at LA's Greek Theater in 1972.
Somewhere between Neil's gritty crooning, the acoustic guitar, piano & full orchestra, I am transported back to my early childhood living room where my mother gets down to Cherry, Cherry and Sweet Caroline *.
Do yourself a favor, dust this album off (or download choice tracks) and give it a grown-up listen. And, while you're at it, riddle me this, why does it look like an imaginary creature is bl*wing Neil Diamond on the album cover? I've always wondered...
* My mother almost named me Caroline after this song. Can you imagine? Seriously.
I'm keeping this one short as I'm a busy bee preparing for my trip to Lawrence, KS (yes, Kansas) this afternoon. Sammy and Danny, here I come!!
Tuesday's Music Pick is San Jose, CA's own- The Mumlers! Check out their album, Thickets & Stitches. (Jo Jo's favorite tracks: Red River Hustle, Dice in a Drawer & Hush).
Also, maybe, just maybe I can make their Hemlock Tavern show when I visit SF this fall for Kensey & Sean's adorable nuptials!
Dylan's Forever Young is a true classic. So, naturally, I'm dying over how adorable and amazing Forever Young, the children's book is - set to Dylan's lyrics & illustrated by Paul Rodgers. Below is the animated promo...
Seriously, I need to have a child ASAP just so I can read he/ she this book.
Say "Mama say mama sa mama makusa" to almost any music lover & they'll most likely recognize it as the nonsensical phrase from Michael Jackson's Wanna be Startin' Somethin' (from Thriller, 1982). Either that, or they'll think you're really drunk.
But, let's get etymological: do you know where the phrase came from??
(Hand up, Hand up) I Do! I Do!
Today's Tuesday Music Pick honors Manu Dibango, the Cameroonian funk/ Afro-beat saxophonist who coined the phrase in his 1972 song Soul Makossa, ("Makossa" means "dance" in Duala, the Cameroonian language - thanks, Wikipedia).
So put on your dancing shoes & check out this live video (below) of Manu performing Soul Makossa. Then afterwards download his in-f*cking-credible 1973 release, Africadelic.
Typically documentaries, although I love them, leave me feeling distraught or outraged (or both), but this week my gf and I splurged on the film Soul Power, which left us happily grooving in our seats.
Soul Power is a musical documentary about an amazing concert held in Zaire in 1974. (This concert was also tied to the "Rumble in the Jungle" title fight between Muhammad Ali and George Foreman). The film features incredible performances from artists like James Brown, Bill Withers & BB King. The documentary also details the production of the concert & is complete with backstage footage & interviews. Music lovers, don't miss this one!
In the first season of Beverly Hills 90210, Brenda decides to throw a slumber party for her best girlfriends on a Friday night. Brenda assures Kelly, her best friend (and now and again royal b*tch), that it’s not really a juvenile slumber party at all since it will be all about female bonding and to please, please, please come.
Lo and behold, Kelly shows up, and so does Donna (total tag-along), and Andrea (Brenda’s twin brother Brandon’s nerdy fantasy woman). Problem is another girl, a stuck-up upperclassman named Amanda, wants to take Kelly to a college party that night. Kelly admits that she has a prior commitment to Brenda’s slumber party and that Amanda is welcome to come. Amanda looks at Kelly like she’s a garbage man and walks away. (Conflict!)
By nightfall all the girls are in their jammies, consisting of oversized men’s shirts with underwear (tip of the cap to the costume designer), and pigging out on ice cream. Then Amanda shows up in a blazer and silk shirt buttoned up to her larynx. (Gasp!)
Amanda pulls Kelly aside and says she’ll only stay a little while because (and I’m paraphrasing here), this bullsh*t is for children and she’d rather get drunk and knocked up by a frat boy than stay at this fucking cr*p.
Brenda, being a new innocent import to Beverly Hills from Minnesota, sees Amanda talking to Kelly and offers Amanda some ice cream. Amanda replies that, duh, she’s on a diet. (Harrumph!)
After hesitating for a few minutes, Amanda finally joins the ladies in Brenda’s living room. Andrea whips out a Ouija board and asks if anyone wants to channel a dead spirit. Amanda rolls her eyes. Andrea suggests trying to contact her dead grandmother. (Brilliant!)
Everyone puts their hands on the Ouija board dial and the spirit immediately whisks it around the alphabet board. It spells out “I A-M H-E-R-E.” Just then a flash of light comes in from outside the living room window. (Grandma??)
Turns out it’s actually David, a freshman peeping Tom with a flash camera. They all shout and shoo him away. Real smooth, David.
When everyone settles down a bit, Amanda decides it’s time for a real game called “Skeletons in the closet.” One person is chosen to sit in the middle and all the others are allowed to ask that person any disgusting question they want. The person has to answer, or else.
They start by putting Kelly on the hot seat. Andrea wants to know what her first sexual experience was. (Hello!) Kelly tells them about Steve, one of the least liked boy snob characters on the show, and how they did it when they were together. Kelly is unenthusiastic recollecting it. The girls giggle. Then Amanda prods further, “But what about your real first time?” Kelly then, sadly describes her being practically raped by a football player her freshman year “BNJ” (Before Nose Job). Everyone is shocked, except for Amanda who has an evil smirk on her face. (Gulp!)
One by one everyone gets put on the hot seat, except Amanda who finally bolts, but accidentally leaves her purse behind. Upon finding it, Donna knocks Amanda’s purse over and diet pills fall out like a hail storm. Amanda comes back only to see her big secret spilled all over the floor. She accuses them of going through her personal sh*t, but then admits she used to be blimp-sized and that she is only mean because the pills make her mean.
The girls tell her she needs help. Amanda agrees and says she'll stay overnight. (That was easy!) They even offer her a bowl of ice cream and she accepts! (Thank heavens!)
I've been kind of a negative Nelly lately - so in the spirit of putting a more positive spin on things - I am instituting a new, weekly sub-blog, my Tuesday Music Pick (TMP).
Today's TMP is an indie-pop band from Ireland called The Frank & Walters.
Consider this, if The Cure and The Smiths had been on antidepressants and infused with an Irish rhythmic sensibility, The Frank & Walters is what they might have sounded like. More than that, the majority of their music is refreshing, upbeat and conjures real nostalgia for the post-punk/ alt-rock sound of the early and mid 80s. My suggestion to you would be to check out their "Best Of" disc on iTunes.
today margot (gf) and i went to williamsburg, brooklyn (please hold all comments until the end) where we visited a couple friends and their adorable one & a half year old baby. the new parents and the baby glowed like nightlights. we ate orzo for lunch and played peek-a-boo. all was right with the world.
after about an hour, we all decided to take a walk out onto bedford avenue. now, for those of you who aren't familiar with the area, bedford avenue is the main drag in williamsburg & williamsburg is known for its population of hipsters. as if the hipsters weren't entertaining enough, a street fair was happening. since bedford was off limit to cars for the day people walked in the middle of the street & vendors sold homemade t-shirts, gaudy jewelry, paperback books - whatever they felt like selling. then i saw HER.
HER: a woman sitting in a chair wrapping an endless ball of twine around her head. let me correct myself, the woman wasn't just wrapping this twine around the top of her head, she was wrapping it around her nose and mouth too. her head was a human beehive. *
Question: would you (reader) classify this as performance art? or mere stupidity? of course you know which way i'm leaning.
*margot has just admitted that she thought the woman was making a basket on her head.
This blog is dedicated to my childhood garage whose dusty concrete floor I tried for two summers to build a go-kart on. My old garage, where I dared walk barefoot in summertime; hosting magic shows for neighborhood kids, pretending to stick a needle clear through my thumb, really the tip of a pickle underneath a handkerchief, then, tearing off the handkerchief, I'd pull out my thumb, unharmed, to the sounds of Oo, Ahh! This is for you, old pal.
In 1993, when I was a ponytailed, flannel-wearing junior at Penfield High School (in suburban Rochester, NY) I created my own zine called oO*Ah (pronounced Ooh, Ahh). Back then, oO*Ah (with only one "h")simply served as a gossip rag between my close friends and I. Ex. I'd call up my friends for interviews, consisting of ridiculous questions about their lives, record our conversations via speakerphone & boombox, then transcribe the interview for print. By "print" I mean, me, sitting alone in my teenage bedroom writing these things out by hand, into a set of stapled blank pages cluttered with my own sketches here and there. And, for some reason, I loved this sh*t.
About ten years later, I was in the middle of trying to complete my first graduate thesis in English at SUNY Brockport, when I came up with the most brilliant distraction: bring oO*Ah back. And I did.
This time, however, I'd learned a few things...
1) If I wanted an audience outside of my circle of friends, I would have to write things that appealed to a more general audience, say, about film, about music, about politics & the local scene.
2) If I wanted to avoid potentially crippling hand cramps, I would have to type it all out on a computer, print it, then make copies.
3) If I wanted to make copies, I would spend a lot of time in the copy room at my job pretending to do real work, so nothing would cost me anything - except maybe my job.
So after dropping off stacks of these zines outside the English department office at SUNY Brockport, the second coming of oO*Ah (still with one "h") began. And I almost flunked my thesis, which is to say, I got an A minus.
And today, you (yes YOU), are now a part of something incredible, something with history, something (hopefully) entertaining - the third coming of oO*Ahh. And "Ah" now has an extra "h" because "ooah" was already taken as a username. Imitators beware!
So for those of you who care/ dare to read what comes next ...do enjoy...
