Best of 2008

When I started this blog my intention was to write about music, mostly. My other intention was to write every single day......

The music thing got waylaid because there is just so much other stuff to write about.  The daily posting didn't happen because I am very, very lazy, and also, I discovered Facebook. Still, despite my laziness, there are things from 2008 that I experienced that deserve a mention, and I can't see the end of December with just one post, so here is a list of my best of 2008.

Best Live Shows:

1) Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds at the Ogden: September 26, 2008

We stood so close to the stage we could see the pupils of his eyes. He came to the edge of the stage during "Night of the Lotus Eaters" and stared us down for the longest and best twenty seconds of my recent life. He played the best show I have seen in years and years, with a sexual and creative energy that still leaves a hot spot on my neck and tingles up and down my spine. Warren Ellis, with his long wild hair and a beard to match was  hunched over like a wild animal as he played his tiny guitar and his seething violin with an almost violent compulsion. Warren Ellis is a man possessed, there is no doubt about it, and you can't look away. It was Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds but all I remember is Nick Cave and Warren Ellis.

Nick Cave pranced and sauntered around the stage like Mick Jagger crossed with Satan himself...(or at least Daniel Day Lewis).He made intense eye contact with the audience and took it all in like some sort of lion that was deciding which of the adoring and hypnotized sheep to eat up in one big gulp.

One of my favorite moments was during a song, he looked at a woman who was up against the stage. She was dressed in a leather vest and a leather motorcycle cap, many many piercings, short spiky hair and some super thick black eye makeup, and he pulled the microphone away from his mouth and said to her "you're a fucking bull dyke, aren't you?" and she looked at him and laughed and said "yes sir" and he laughed and she laughed and I was almost in tears from laughing myself. Don't misunderstand...the man is not a homophobe. He just likes to mess with people.

A lot of people, including myself, like Nick Cave's beautiful ballads. The piano is his instrument and he has performed lectures about the Love Song. He played only one ballad that night, which is a good thing, because any more would have been too incongruous with the energy of the show. 

Anyways, here is the set list:

1. Night of the Lotus Eaters 2008

2. Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!! 2008

3. Tupelo 1985

4. Today’s Lesson 2008

5. Weeping Song 1990

6. Red Right Hand 1994

7. Midnight Man 2008

8. Love Letter 2001

9. Hold On To Yourself 2008

10. The Mercy Seat 1988

11. Deanna 1988

12. Moonland 2008

13. Hard On for Love 1986

14. We Call Upon The Author to Explain 2008

15. Encore 1: Papa Won’t Leave You, Henry 1992

16. Wanted Man (Bob Dylan cover) 1985

17. The Lyre of Orpheus 2004

18. Encore 2: Stagger Lee 1996

I won't forget this show for as long as I live. 

2) The Handsome Family/ Calexico @ the Sunshine Theatre in Albuquerque: November 25, 2008

My friend Joe introduced me to the Handsome Family about ten years back, and I have never gotten the chance to see them live. I had a business trip to Albuquerque coming up and when I saw that they were opening for Calexico I arranged the trip around this show and bought tickets right away. The day of the show I met up with a woman I work with and told her I was going to see them, and she asked me what kind of music they play. I think I said something like, "You know, executioner's songs, murder ballads, love songs about dragging your beloved wife out into the woods and clubbing her to death while she cries for mercy, that kind of thing". We were sitting in a starbucks and the woman literally looked at me and said, "okay! well, I have to get going, I am going to pick up my son at day care. Nice seeing you!" 

She all but ran out of there. I was all thinking "what?"...

I laugh when I imagine the satanic ritual she probably thought I was attending, because Brett and Rennie Sparks (The husband and wife that are the Handsome Family) strike me as some of the nicest people in the world. They just happen to tell stories that are dark and disturbing and explore the most hopeless and insidious sides of humanity. She writes all the lyrics and he writes the music and it is incredible, what they do. They played my favorite song, "So Much Wine", halfway through their set, which was just amazing. I was able to talk to Rennie at the merch table and I just wanted to say, "won't you please be my new best friend?". Instead I stammered out a "that was awesome" or something like that. I get a little tongue tied to say the least.

The best part of that night was this: I was going to leave after the Handsome Family because I didn't really know Calexico and at the time, didn't really care. I stayed, though, and they..were...unbelievable. Ennio Moriccone meets traditional music of Mexico. All the guys in the band were these incredible musicians, but the two that stand out the most were the two trumpet players. Both were multi-instrumentalists, switching from trumpets to keyboards to accordions to percussion , all the while singing backup and harmonies that were spot on. Their music was so good, it made me feel as though if I closed my eyes and opened them  I would be standing outside with a dry hot breeze enveloping me as I gazed out over red sands because I would be either in a Sergio Leone movie or a Cormac Macarthy book. It was such a good show.

Oh, and a great thing happened. I was close to the front, but up against the wall, when a guy taps me on the shoulder and asks me how tall I am. I tell him, and he says to me, "you don't have to stand all the way back here, you know. You should be able to go way up front too!" I swear I wanted to lean down ( he was a tiny little guy) and plant one on him in thanks, because it seems at every show I go to someone has to make a comment about hating standing behind me. I want to send thanks that little man, wherever he is. He made my night with that comment.

Here is Calexico's Myspace page. Check it out. I love "Two Silver Trees":

http://www.myspace.com/casadecalexico

Here is a Handsome Family video that I love. Check it out:

3) The Gutter Twins @ the Fox Theatre in Boulder: March 29th, 2008

Mark Lanegan......I would marry him in a second. Sure, he was a heroin addict for many years and sure, he probably isn't exactly the "faithful" type, but if a man can write and sing like he does, who gives a crap? Mark Lanegan is one of my top five favorite musicians of all time, so I was excited to get to see the Gutter Twins this year. We stood in the very front against the stage, and I was right there in front of Mark Lanegan and his giant size 14 feet, staring up at him like I was staring at a giant pillar of rock at Yosemite National Park, craning my neck to take it all in. 

Lanegan makes no eye contact with the audience but just stands there and channels this beautiful whiskey soaked baritone, It made me a little bit afraid and a little bit turned on all at the same time. Greg Duhli, the other half of the Gutter Twins, is well known for his band The Afghan Whigs. His energy is the complete opposite of Mark Lanegan. He flies around the stage and interacts with the audience that gives the impression of one who maybe has done a little too much of the nose candy in his life, or possibly right before the show. He was dressed in a suit that looked a bit like a used copier salesman with a gambling problem. Still, he was awesome and it was a good complement to the not-moving-but could-explode-with-creative-anger- at-any-moment energy of Mark my future husband Lanegan. 

Best Music Heard:

Nick Cave & Warren Ellis: The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford OST

Unbelievably beautiful and perfect score to a great movie. Scratchy and unpretentious violin and heartbreaking piano melodies. 

Mark Lanegan and Isobel Campbell: Sunday at Devil Dirt

Imagine Tinker Bell and a (hot) Frankenstein pairing up for a duet whose sound is often compared to Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazelwood. It took forever for this to get released, but we are going to be okay, because it is here now. I wouldn't recommend Isobel Campbell's solo stuff, though. It's really kind of annoying. Luckily she has Mark Lanegan's coat tails to ride on, because they make beautiful music together. 

Bon Iver: For Emma, Forever Ago

The kind of indie music that I love, love, love. Specifically, the un-precious kind. Which is kind of an oxymoron, I know. I think you just have to hear it to know what I mean. It's an incredible record....written and recorded while Justin Vernon (the real name of Bon Iver) sequestered himself in a cabin in remote Wisconsin. You can almost hear the mosquitos, although they are heavily overdubbed....

Oh, and it's too awesome to hear the holier than thou hipsters pronouncing it "Bon Eye-ver". 

(Bon Iver is pronounced like the French term for "good winter": Bon Hiver...or,"bohn eevair").

I am not exactly the pronunciation queen, but there is some joy in an opportunity to correct the "Suffocatingly Uncorrectable"....ahem.

Liz Durrett: Outside Our Gates:

Liz Durrett is constantly compared to Cat Power. You know what though? She is BETTER. She has a smoky voice and sings ghosty southern gothic songs. Her voice reminds me of a creepy but beautiful instrument that is on it's last legs and you can barely get a note out of it. Liz Durrett is far from being on her last legs, though. She has the constant guidance of her uncle, Vic Chesnutt, though it's very apparent that she would do just fine without him. Here she is on Myspace ( I love "The Sea is Dream" demo..):

http://www.myspace.com/lizdurrett

There was so much more music: the Handsome Family, M. Ward, Calexico, Neko Case, Beirut, the National...Gillian Welch, Floyd Tillman, Hank Snow, Dwight Yoakam. None of these artists released anything in 2008 but they were all on heavy rotation this year. 

Only Shallow: Favorite Television Shows watched in 2008

Fine. Whatever. You don't have a TV and you are so much better than me. Oh, wait, guess what? I don't have a television either, but I do have a Macbook, a DVD drive, and a SERIOUS addiction to my "stories". The following proved to be the most addicting this year, in five words or less:

Mad Men: Don Draper. Advertising. 1960! AWESOME.

True Blood: Vampires, sex, TOTAL SHAMELESS CHEESE.

Deadwood: Cocksucker, Swearengen, motherfucking bangety bang.

Weeds: apparently it is addicting....

The Mighty Boosh: Original and hilarious comedy duo.

Flight of the Conchords: Original and hilarious comedy duo.

That's all I am going to write about, although so much more happened this year. I could write a whole entry on the accordion, which I took up in February and have been in love with ever since. I've met some incredible new friends and seen and done a lot of great stuff. I just have this feeling about 2009, though....it's going to be a good one. If it's not, well, at least there will always be books and movies and music. What would we do without them?

Here is a great quote from the M. Ward song "To Go Home":

"God, it's great to be alive..takes the skin right off my hide to think i'll have to give it all up someday"

G'bye, 2008. I won't miss you, but I do thank you for all that you provided.

Hello 2009....what will your best of be??

Ode to a Family Friend

The Erwins have been family friends since well before I was born. Jim, Marg and their kids Eric and Lisa have been in our lives always. When I was in my early twenties I ran into some trouble and Jim made it a point to help me out and guide me in the right direction, providing me with a shoulder to lean on that my parents just couldn't provide, simply because, well...they were my parents. They were just too close to me to be able to see what I needed, though they did everything they could and more. Jim stepped in and offered to help and I will never, ever forget that. 

Jim Erwin died this morning after a year and half long battle with brain cancer. I was able to visit him in October one last time. I knew it would be the last time, because I could tell that HE knew it would be the last time. As we rose from our chairs to say goodbye I lingered behind a bit so I could squeeze his hand as he lay in his hospital bed. He looked at me tearily and said, "I love you, Emilie". I squeezed his hand hard and told him that I loved him, too. There is no doubt in my mind; we both knew that was our final goodbye.

When Jim was first diagnosed, he was given a prognosis of 6 months to live. He lived for a year and half past that day. When I think about Jim and his life, I can say for sure that I know why he outlasted his projected remaining time for a full year. 

For one thing, I have never met such a close knit and loving family in my entire life. He and his wife Marg were like a couple of peas in a pod. Always laughing, always discovering new things. Still totally in love with each other after fifty years of marriage. The relationship of Jim, Marg, and their kids Lisa and Eric was.. IS like a family of best friends that cherish every second together. That always made an impression on me. The other thing that stands out is that Jim had an incredible sense of humor and sort of bottomless creativity that he expressed in many ways. 

The following are some cartoons and drawings that he made over the years:

Here is a little card he made for my parent's anniversary:

I LOVE this one: it was for my mom's birthday. (My dad was a christmas tree farmer):

Here is a birthday card he made for me: at the time I played all of the instruments pictured, and I do believe this is an accurate depiction of my family's reaction to my "music" :

Oh, and one more thing: the Erwins would annually play a practical joke on my parents on April Fool's day, and vice versa. Once time they took my parents out to lunch and bribed the waiter to bring out these ridiculous joke meals in place of what they actually ordered. I think one year my parents covered their lawn with plastic flamingos..there were pranks every year.

The moral of the story: life can be cruel and it is definitely short. To be full of life, humor, positivity, and surrounded by family and friends is the best way that a person can live. 

Goodnight, dear Jim. We all love you very much.

Purr your request

Today is a FINE day. Please, dear reader(s?), ignore my whiny tone in any previous posts, because life is good. Would you like to know why? 

For one thing, I found this bag at a local shoppette:

The birdies are both shades of my favorite color of blue:

The best part is that the bag is not leather, it is PVC, which the girl behind the counter assured me was endangered. Death to all the Naugas and PVC that still insist on walking the earth!!!

I haven't bought anything for myself in quite some time (well, a few weeks...but that would be like a heroin addict not touching smack for a day or two, so I think I have come leaps and bounds), and yes, I bought it. I deserve it, and it makes me happy. 

Know what else makes me super f*cking happy? The fact that another day passes and my babies are all safe and sound. Here is a picture from about two minutes ago, where they are all settled in to their "spot":

Ninja Kitty Wells and her 22 digits:

 

Monsignor Earl, avec sa moustache:

...and Miss Lily. The best part about this is that she is relaxed...and happy. She has horrible allergies so any moment that she isn't itchy and suffering I breathe a sigh of relief for her. Observe, she sleeps. Ahhhhhh......

Next up? My HOUSE. Usually I have an office day on Mondays, and much of this day I do my workin' from home. However, my house is usually in such a state of disarray and messiness that one would think a rabid leafblowing machine got loose in said apartment, wreaking havoc on all that is inside. Unfortunately, it is just a manifestation of my psyche, which happens to usually have "clothes all over its floor" so to speak. You can imagine the effect this has on my workaday productivity.

Yesterday I woke up with the will to clean like I hadn't had in a long time. We are talking, move the furniture around (I'm talking to you, piano), get down on the hands and knees with the Pet Hair Magnet* to clean the entire carpet, and just generally "do it up". 

*because the vacuum bit the dust, and not in its intended way, many moons ago.

Before:

After:

I only have the pics of half the house for now, but as soon as the fed ex guy leaves I am going to take pictures of the rest. Oh my, I've said too much.

Also I can't leave this out....I have another episode of True Blood to watch, PLUS I have the first two books in the series WITH THEIR ORIGINAL COVERS.

I get so pissed off when a movie or a series gets made that is based on a book, then some contractual b*llshit causes the covers to change forever to some stupid movie poster scene. 

I mean, that would be like, taking a great album cover and changing it based on whatever douchebag decided to play the songs. Can you imagine? Can you imagine if that poop fiend Kenny G had total creative license to change the album cover to say, "What a Wonderful World"?

Ugh....that'll replace the whale in me nightmares, to quote the sea captain.

These are choppy waters that I tread though, because in making this comparison one might think I do not approve of the television series, which of course, I do...

I just don't approve of HBO's cheesy promo poster for it.

It's funny that I wouldn't like the cheesy promo poster because the show itself is really...just so cheesy. However, I maintain that it's cheese is appealing because of the campy and self-mocking nature that it upholds. Plus, the vampire/human sex is steeeeeeamy! You can't have watched Episode Ten without telling me that you fantasized about someone crawling out of the ground and having their way with you. You just can't. Not even you, mom....just kidding. My mom doesn't get HBO.

Alright, that'll do it for now. It's off to watch that episode then spend about ten hours on Facebook. Then it's off to the eye doctor, where they just might have to call the authorities when they see the telltale signs of internet addiction.....will YOU come visit me in rehab?

November 11: Veterans Day

My Dad is a World War II veteran. I don't think a day went by at our house that he didn't tell us a story about being in the war. Most of my dad's stories were so humorous and poignant, they brought tears to our eyes from laughing. Even though much of it must have been pure hell, he gathered up the good times and let them live on, as if every time he told a good story it would take the strength away from a bad memory. There were certain tales he told dozens of times, but none of us would dream of telling him we heard it before.....

A couple of years ago Dad wrote a sort of mini memoir for Colgate University, along with several other men who were in the war. I thought I might post an excerpt from it here: 

(Written in the winter of 2006, by Richard M. Hall)

Our graduation in the December snows of Hamilton led directly to time in the service for most of us. About a month after graduation I joined Paul Thompson, Jack Sinn, Charlie Feuerbach and Keith Lyman in accepting Uncle Sam's invitation to attend Fort Dix. We were soon shipped out. I was sent to Indiana for basic. I think I speak for all of us in saying that we were glad to leave Dix and Sergeant Lidak...that guy made drill sergeants seem like kindly old grandmothers.

After basic I went to Slocum near new York City and on August 20th shipped out for North Africa. I was on the former Italian luxury liner the Conti Grande but it had been refitted to something less than luxury. as I recall the canvas bunks were five deep down on F deck. We went for meals twice a day and were allowed out on an open deck twice a day for about twenty minutes each. We were in a large convoy and passed through Gibraltar on September 1, 1943 then into Oran on September 2. about three days later I was put in a replacement battery of the 36th division artillery. We were soon sent out 20 miles or so from Oran to a wild area along the Mediterranean coast that we had to clear of brush before we could put up tents that would be our home for about a month. a steep rocky bank led down to the sea and we swam there almost every day. Long hikes were also the order of the day. The weather was perfect - warm and dry during the day with cool nights. At the time I thought that I would have liked spending all the Septembers of my life along that Algerian Coast.

In late September we boarded amphibious assault boats and headed for Italy. Once aboard we were diverted to Bizerte because the outcome of the battle of Salerno, which started on September 9, 1943, was still in doubt. The 36th was the first American division to land on continental Europe and the Germans were doing their best to push them back into the water. It was a near thing. Counting the British troops that also landed, there were something over 12,000 casualties in nine days. Out artillery at times was firing direct fire at tanks and troops that had broken through. I always remember Dan C. Saying the the Germans were shooting 88's around like small arms fire. 

After Salerno the fighting moved north and when it reached a point above Naples our ship went into the harbor there. The bar there is beautiful with Sorrento, the islands of Capri, Ischia and other small islands and then Vesuvius in the near background. Vesuvius was moderately active at the time and gave the German bombers a good reference point to their bombing of the harbor and Naples in general.

The next day we got on trucks and went down to the Salerno area and joined the units that would be out "home" for the remainder of the war. I was put in the survey section of the Division Headquarters battery. Our job would be to give accurate survey information to all of our four artillery battalions. the head of the survey section, Joe S., greeted me with a handshake, a first for me in the army, and he probed to be a life long friend, as did most of the rest of the men in the section(usually eight in number).

The division was in rest and getting replacements into the ranks after the battle of Salerno, but we soon moved up to Pozzouli north of Naples and did a lot of practice survey work to develop speed that would pay off later on when we were in combat.

In the middle of November we moved up to the Mignano area and into combat. I didn't know what to make of the first shells coming in. in that particular case they were looping way over us to targets in our rear, but it was new to me and it takes a while to get used to the different sounds.

For the next six or seven weeks we were involved with all the fighting  between Mignano and Cassino Places like "Million Dollar Mountain" (the cost of the shells we used there), Purple Heart Valley (made prominent by Margaret Bourke-White's book and pictures of the same name), Venafro, Sammucro, Sam Pietro (John Huston's movie of that name was considered one of the best movies of WWII and shot right during combat there), then more small towns and finally Cassino itself. All that ground between Mignano and Cassino was gained at a high cost to our infantry. The fall rains had turned the land into a quagmire. Rain and incoming shells were a way of life yet the soil was so much of a slurry that many of the shells didn't detonate. Several years after the war I read that over 1400 children had been killed by those shells.

That is the first part of the memoir. I will post more shortly. Thanks for reading! 

 

Don't See Why You Don't Stay a LIttle Longer

It's been a strange couple of weeks. On a national level, hope abounds.  On a personal level, it's been pretty much crap. 

The good news? I think this phase might be coming to an end. It may be the Screamin' Jay Hawkins record I keep playing over and over, or it may be the Sailor Jerry Rum that keeps finding it's way to my beverages, but I am optimistic. Seriously....having a bad month that doesn't kill you is not that bad. I mean, we all have to take our turns, right? Plus, this always happens near the turn of the seasons, or the changing of the clocks. 

In any case, I feel that it might be appropriate here to make a list. A list of the things, currently, that are lighting up my brain cells, are making me feel like it's all worth it. Aside, of course, from the people and animals that make every day tolerable. You know who you are....the three of you that read this blog, and the rest of you. You all rock the house of E-mile.

Here we go.....

READING IS GRATE

I am, and will always be, the type -o- gal to have about ten different books going at once. Here are the current selections next to the bed, on the kitchen table, etc.:

1.) Special Topics in Calamity Physics by Marisa Pessl

It's a debut novel. It's modeled after an English Literature syllabus, with more literary and cultural references than a ten foot high stack of New Yorkers. It is brilliant. It is maddening, because the author is the precise opposite of a "late bloomer". It is inspiring, because you know there is at least one person out there that is using a whole giant portion of their brain, as opposed to most of us that are using that piddly little five percent, or whatever the number is.

The characters are nauseating and fascinating all at once, kind of like an episode of Gossip Girl crossed with several Norton Anthologies. Good times.

2.) The Dead Travel Fast by Eric Nuzum

For some reason, vampires have come a callin' lately, seemingly to feed on my general sense of fascination. I always love Nosferatu, which coincidentally was the first thing I wrote about in this 'ere blogerola. Also, up out of the coffin of cheesy HBO series pops True Blood, one of the most addicting

 shows I have witnessed in recent days. It is so full of cheesy acting, sex, and actually some awesome music.....that is my achilles combination. More on that later....

Anyways, this book is a book about vampire culture, and is Choc(ula) full of all kinds of history and accounts and the like.

3.) Musicophilia by Oliver Sacks

I have always toyed with becoming a music therapist, but I have the sense that I would like the schooling better then the practice. I wonder if in reality, it would mean a lifetime of playing Beatles songs to kids from the short bus. Actually, that sounds pretty damn fun....I just don't really love the Beatles that much. 

Actually, I see how music has this power (duh) over folks and I wish I could help use that power for amazing things. Namely, to help people find their identity, their passion, their best best self. 

This book looked so completely interesting and very on-topic. I bought it. It may be dry as hell, which I swear will piss me off. I think my sister has read it...(sister? care to comment?) and if memory serves, she named a book or two that were much better on the subject. Verdict is still out.

4.)Drunk, Divorced, and Covered in Cat Hair by Laurie Perry

There are these two friends of mine, a couple, and they are people that somehow, I feel that I have known since I was small (f*cking long time ago, right?). If I believed in such things,  I would venture to say that I knew them in some other life.  They told me about Laurie Perry, a.k.a. Crazy Aunt Purl's blog and book....I related to the story they told me and without ever having read her blog, I bought the book. I love this woman to death. She got divorced, she learned to knit. She wrote a g-damn book. She has a bunch of cats, she is funny as hell. I look at her blog every day. Okay, so, I haven't yet delved into the book, but I am sure it will be awesome, because the author is someone I wish was in my posse of friends. One of my plans for the year is to learn to knit like a badass. My mom is an amazing knitter, she belongs to project Linus, and I figure, maybe her skill with the needles is hereditary?? I sure hope so. Maybe I can forgive her for the cellulite if that is the case.

MUSIC TIME

I got ten kinds of overwhelmed when I thought about writing about everyone I have been listening to lately, so I thought I would just post my favorite songs of late. Click on the links and enjoy....

Nick Cave: Empty Little Boat

Nick Cave: Grief Came Riding

Neko Case: Tightly

Neko Case: Blacklisted

Neko Case: I Wish I Was the Moon

 The Handsome Family: Drunk by Noon

Jelly Roll Kings: Have Mercy Baby

Devotchka: Dark Eyes

Devotchka: Along the Way

Granada: written by Isaac Albeniz, performed by Emilio de Benito

Screamin' Jay Hawkins: You Made Me Love You

I believe I will close out for now. Please stay tuned for Part II of what turns my crank, also known as Why I  Have been Swearing so Goddamn Much.

Later, taters.

Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys: Stay a Little Longer

My Favorite Moment in the Debate

Uncle James Earl Jones' ABC's

Particularly creepy are "G", "I", and "K-M". 

I gots needs too, you know

Honestly, the Boosh is maybe the best thing I have seen in years. The Mighty Boosh, that is, and if this bit doesn't make you want more, then you have no soul, No Soul!

David Foster Wallace 1962-2008

I never made it through Infinite Jest. David Foster Wallace's lengthy tome sits in a daunting pile next to my bed, kept company by War and Peace, Underworld, Finnegan's Wake, and Gravity's Rainbow. These are all books that are on any English major's required life reading list, but are books that I  have never quite mustered the courage nor the Ritalin prescription to delve into. My friend Kandee loves Infinite Jest so much, that she bought two copies (that's more than two thousand pages); one to keep in it's pristine form, and one that she could separate in half so that she could easily carry around, read and re-read the two parts without having to lift weights in preparation. Last fall I got a tattoo that took three hours to finish; Kandee showed up and sat with me the entire three hours, reading from Infinite Jest to take my mind off the pain (it worked).

The world has lost one of the good ones. My dear friend Vanessa, who had at least a half a decade of correspondence with D.F.W, pays her respects beautifully and sublimely on her blog. 

I think I will get to reading Infinite Jest now, although I dread feeling when I get to the end what so many others have felt over the last few days....that there will be no more. 

Sex, Lies, and Candleabrum

So apparently Steven Soderbergh will be directing a new Liberace biopic.

The icing on the piano shaped cake? Michael Douglas will be cast as the wildly flamboyant performer. 

Liberace, who maintained throughout his entire career that he was not gay ,had his start as a classical musician. His act quickly evolved into what he called "classical music with the boring parts left out". He appeared in movies, television, and even wrote a cookbook. I remember watching the Liberace Show with my parents, and I especially remember his appearance on the Muppet Show. There is a Liberace Museum in Las Vegas which I have never been to, but I hear is totally worth a visit, if not just to see his collection of glorious man rings. I love that Steven Soderbergh will be directing this film, because it is sure to have a twisted focus to it, with a lot of Liberace's famous self deprecating humor. Get your purple sequined movie watching capes ready, because this is going to be a good one.

Sugar Blues

I have this problem. I am a total sucker for packaging. I get drawn in by an image or a look, and before you know it I find myself in the downward spiral of disappointment and self berating, for what kind of a person buys a CD because the cover is awesome, people? It's no good, I tell you. Someone once asked me how I pick out my wine and I responded with "i'll buy it if it is under twelve bucks and if there is any kind of creature on the label".

So, I love cupcakes. I always have. I love cake in general, I even love the word. Cupcakes are the perfect, single serve, sublimely sized cake. So much better than a piece of cake, because a cupcake isn't a part of a bigger thing. You are getting your own little personal cake, all to yourself, and you don't have to share it with anyone or swap with them because yours is bigger and you got the bigger piece last time, and "you don't want to be a little piggy, DO you?" Oh....

Today, while I was out working in a nearby town, I saw a huge banner for a brand new cupcake shop. I did a sharp, wheel squealing u-turn, my eyes practically pin-wheeling in anticipation, and I found myself at said cupcake shop which was just as cute as a button. I have noticed that the trend in cupcake shops are that they are all super super cute with a modern touch, and it all reminds me a lot of the candy you find at Asian grocery stores, or come to think of it, the 70's version of the game "Candyland". So of course, now that you know of my problem with shiny packaging and cupcakes, you can see how I was lured in easier than a Japanese man to a hot dog eating contest.

Guess what happened next? Uh, I was totally disappointed. My cupcake was okay (if you like fresh frosting on two day old cake), but here's the thing. I can't have a cupcake without a cup of coffee or tea, it's just how I am. It's like if someone were to say, "Hey, let's listen to that Sonny album" or, "How about lets see what Roper has to say about the movie?" I just feel like something is missing without the hot beverage. I just wish that "hot" beverage hadn't been sitting there for the last eight hours and also, that maybe the fine ladies at the spanking new cupcake place could invest in some nicer lids that don't actually funnel more coffee into your lap than your mouth, although I think the lid might have just done my mouth a favor. Oh, and also, the Dave Matthews on the radio pretty much ruined any chance of me liking the place anyways. If I hear soprano saxophone too close to  eating I tend to come down with a serious case of the rollovers.

Which brings me to my story. This is the story of the WORST DATE in the HISTORY of the WORLD. Gather round, children, gather round. You won't be sorry...

So about a year ago, a man whom I met at a local establishment pestered me into going on a date with him. I was almost instantly galled by his...well, "healthy dose of self esteem", but my friends reminded me that if I didn't start "getting out there" I was in danger of becoming a weirdo shut-in. Which is actually my goal, but to placate them, I decided to go on this date, because who knows, right? I mean, tons of people have wormed their way into my heart after I got to know them, even though I hated them initially.

I suppose I should have seen the first red flag when he decided he wanted to take me to one of the worst and most overrated restaurants in town....which will remain nameless, but if you would like a hint, it rhymes with "Shmasta Shmay's". The following events are in order, and are completely and totally UN-exaggerated. Which for me, is huge, since I exaggerate everything ("I saw that movie like, ten times" = I saw most of it once and may or may not have fallen asleep).

First, after we were seated, my date said to me, "Baby, I am so glad you agreed to come out with me, even though I could have had both of your girlfriends, I chose you".

Second, he insisted on keeping his brand new $600 phone on the table ( I know the price because he told me), and answered it THREE times before the crappy salad even arrived...plus, he was so rude to the people that called him. He would loudly proclaim "listen, fool, I told you where I'll be so you can come or not, idiot!" Charming.

Third, he liked to talk himself up, a LOT. All that being "talked at" made me so hungry...and at the exact moment the food comes, he decides to go to the bathroom, leaving me staring at my plate of mediocre "I could have made this at home" lasagna.

Fourth, when he finally got back from the bathroom, he grabbed my hands and MADE ME PRAY WITH HIM before we ate. That's right, he made me say grace, right there, at shmasta shay's. I don't pray, my friends, unless I am  at my parent's house. I pray at my parent's dinner table because i love and respect them, but really I am just holding their hands and mumbling the words to "It Wasn't God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels" while they say their thing. I figure if they hear the word God in there somewhere at least they will think I tried.

Fifth, after this interminable meal was finally over, he berated the server for putting the check down in front of "the man" then insisted that we go dutch. I'm sorry, didn't you say you wanted to "take me" to dinner"? Asshole.

Then here's what happened. We were walking down the street (quite briskly, since we were walking towards my car...my getaway car, that is), when he stopped. He stopped, and gazed longingly into an empty storefront, and proclaimed, "Here it is". "Here is what?" , I asked. "Here is the spot I want to open up my cupcake shop", he announced.

This was before I knew that cupcake shops existed, or that they were about to become a bigger trend than Kabbalah or Indie Rock. My heart melted, and it melted fast. I gazed at him with new eyes, and thought, "I was wrong, I was wrong about this guy", and I took his hand and said, "Cupcake shop? Really?"

He turned to me and said, "Shit, yeah. I would totally bank, and imagine all the tight little bitches I could get to work for me. Damn..."

And that, kids, is the story of the Worst Date in the Histroy of the World. That date was so bad, I threw out the clothes I was wearing so that I wouldn't have to remember it. It is a good thing we went to that crappy restaurant since I don't care if I have a bad memory of that place. Luckily, my view of cupcakes was left unsullied, and you know, being a shut-in is not so bad. My new imaginary friends keep me company just fine, and they sure don't ever pester me to go out on any dates.

Feeling blue? Have a look at this.

Make sure to watch up to :59, you won't be sorry.

Bel C*nto

Today as I sat with my morning coffee, perusing the usual music blogs and websites, I found myself looking at the NPR music website. Lots and lots of  great stuff on this website. "1,000 essential recordings you must hear", blogs by interesting people, music reviews for every genre, and all kinds of music news. Best of all, I have actually heard of most of the artists that are discussed or described, unlike the music and bands on a certain other website even though it is my homepage. 

This post is not about music, though. No, this post is about the Beavis or Butthead-like feeling that washes over a person when they find a sublimely perfect typo. 

So as I was saying, I was browsing the NPR music website when to my surprise I saw this headline:

I thought maybe the word was cut off, you know, maybe it was supposed to say...twotone? Twotimes? Twotentwo?

So I opened up the article to find out. No...nothing was cut off. It's really just supposed to say "two":

Maybe someone had a grudge against the sopranos on the different recordings, or maybe the author just has sex on the brain in general.In any case, the seventh grader in me knew it was going to be a good day. Now if you will excuse me, I am off to the pubic library.

Bumber....well, shoot.

What with the advent of modern tech-mology, music has been easier to come by than an STD on Colfax avenue. What? Since musicians have to make a living, a direct result of all the downloadin' that the kids do these days is all these crazy festivals with all their space age names.....Bonnaroo, Coachella, Monolith, some crazy thing called Lollapalooza, and then there is Bumbershoot.

I have always said that it would be a great thing if the world map was like an Excel spreadsheet, and we could just hide states and countries the way you can columns and rows. That way we could jump around and see friends and loved ones when we wanted, go to H & M whenever we felt the need (like, three times a day), and travel around in general without having to worry about airfare, lodging, a dogsitter, and taking time off of work. I realize that this fantasy is flawed, of course, because half the world would want to be in the same place at the same time and it would cause complete chaos....but one can dream.

I am conflicted, though, because anyone that knows me knows that anything that ends in "fest" gives me the heebee jeebies, number one because of the crowds, number two (heh heh) because of the porta-potties, and number three, because of the way that you always end up a mile away from the band that you want to see with some drunk and super high frat boy douchebag next to you pumping his arm to the music and going "WOOOOOO!", WOOOOOOOH!" so loud, and for so long, that you walk away wondering why you paid for a ticket and hating all of humanity with a serious passion.

Still, Bumbershoot is coming up and I want to go. To be honest, I could see most of the bands that are playing at Bumbershoot right in my own backyard at Monolith in mid-September..and I probably will. I don't know why I am so drawn to Seattle this year to see this particular festival out of all the festivals that have happened this summer. I think it has something to do with the location, just the right amount of bands I like, and the fact that there are a crap ton of great musicians that are in Seattle right now that I would love to see. 

In any case, here are the highlights. You can click on the names to hear the artist's music:

Neko Case:

I mean, holy crap. If you don't know Neko Case, I envy you. I envy you because you are about to hear her for the first time. If you do know her, then you know the sound of honey dripping on a 1956 Ford F-100 pickup truck with a bloodhound in the passengers seat holding tiger lilies, cupcakes and a loaded gun.  

Lucinda Williams:

If my world were a Harry Potter book, Lucinda Williams would be Dumbledore. (Except she is totally hot, and she is almost sixty years old...sorry Dumbledore). Lucinda Williams is the daughter of Miller Williams, a literature professor and poet. Her voice is creaky and sad, even when she is belting out a loud song with a fast tempo; her songs are unbelievable. Someday, when I learn how to upload MP3s onto this bastard, I will share with you the magic that is "Side of the road", or "Something about what happens when we talk".  You will then see. Stay tuned.

M. Ward:

A singer-songwriter from Portland slash New Hampshire slash Portland. Most recently he recorded an album with Zoey Deschanel called She and Him. It's a great album, although I feel like I have heard every single song before, somewhere. That's not a bad thing, because they are both adorable and I love everything they do as separate artists.. I wasn't expecting my world to be turned upside down by their collaboration, but they came through with something awesome, albeit a bit predictable. 

M. Ward's solo records, on the other hand, are like something I would put in my little space pod for the future in case everything else in the world went away. There is something uniquely comforting and timeless about his voice and music that I just want to hear no matter what mood I am in. 

Dale Watson:

OMG...Dale Watson. I haven't even begun to get started on The Country Music in this little blog. Dale Watson is not a bad place to start. He invokes the spirit and sound of the Outlaw Country men like Waylon and Willie. I may know what you are thinking. Willie is still alive but why does he have to keep doing things like reggae albums and collaborations with Wynton Marsalis? It just doesn't feel right. It's like if Santa Claus started wearing Crocs and a Hawaiian Shirt all the time, or sporting tassle shoes with his costume instead of boots. 

Anyways, Dale Watson has had a hard life and word has it that he did try to off himself some years back after the love of his life got in a car accident and died. Although I am loathe to know that anyone is in that kind of pain, I am glad he failed in that endeavor, because he is one of the last of the real country music singers. I am going to see him this Monday at the Laporte Swing Station in Fort Collins, so you can bet your ass I am going to write about that on this here blog.

Mark Pickerel and his Praying Hands:

Mark Pickerel was the original drummer for the Screaming Trees, which means he worked with my beloved Mark Lanegan. I recently re-discovered Mark Pickerel's music while trawling around myspace for something good. I think a friend and I had talked about him some months back but it never "took" for either of us. For some reason this time around he really got me, maybe because I have been watching a lot of film noir lately. His music is sexy and sad, a touch creepy and faraway. It feels like music that would be in modern film noir, and it is good.

Long story short, there is no way I am able to go to Bumbershoot this year, because I have other obligations. I can read all about it and remember that it will probably rain anyway, and there is nothing worse than waiting in a line for the blue toilets when it is pouring down and you are standing in muck. Dang, I wish I could go.