FOs:
I finally wrapped up my first sweater of the year, Hourglass from Last Minute Knitted Gifts in Rowan Kid Classic. As I mentioned, major surgery was needed. Here's a before pic:
As we can see, HUGE neckline. What you can't see in the photo is that the sleeves are beyond wrist-length, and have moved right into the realm where they skim the second knuckle of my middle finger.
So, I ripped out the hem on top, reduced a lot more, bound off regularly. Ripped out the sleeves to 3/4 length, crochet cast-off. Just for kicks, I also took the hem out of the bottom and bound it off regularly, because I don't mind the rolling and wanted it to match the top. And so...
There! First finished sweater of the year.
Also, I finished my first pair of socks.
Pattern: Anastasia Socks
Yarn: Nova Socks by Fleece Artist
Needles: Well, I meant them to be US 2's, but the LYS didn't tell me Addi US 2's are actually 3.00 mm, so... 3mm dpns
This was a nice, easy toe-up pattern. I recommend it for beginners. I switched to Figure 8 cast-on and just built the toe up from there instead of doing the provisional cast-on with short rows. I also took 4 stitches out (one between each eyelet repeat, two from the bottom) when I realized I was knitting with bigger needles than I should've been. Bad local yarn store! You are there to give me information!
I also learned to spin this weekend. My first batch was really bad, but the silk I spun (thanks, secret pal, for the roving!) was much better. I also bought some yummy Fleece Artist roving at Loopy, but I'm going to save that until I'm better at spinning. I'll be getting a nicer spindle and some undyed training fiber on payday, I think.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Knitting update!
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
First off: Almost done with the 33 1/3 book on Loveless. Halfway through City of Glass by Paul Auster. Waiting for Jan to finish the nifty-looking NYRB Press book about the Thirty Years' War.
But back to knitting.
It is rather difficult to do yarnovers and decreases in the blind dark, while sleep deprived, but I managed to do it. I have a full hexagon done on the Basalt tank, all of which was completed at B-Fest. I also have several more inches on the monotonous but cute angora sweater, although I coat myself in fuzz every time I knit on that. I have two socks above the heel flap; they aren't from the same pair, but hey, two socks, right?
Right now, though, my main focus is de-Flashdancing the Hourglass Sweater. Taken in 5.5" from each sleeve: Check. Crochet cast-off sleeves: Check. Pulled hem line from bottom hem: Check. Now, I have to cast off the bottom in a regular fashion, then pull out the top hem, knit it up higher, and crochet cast-off up top, too. Nice and tight, that crochet cast-off.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Sweater/Knitting Update.
Not much progress on the sweaters this week. Well, I’m still working on the interminable yoke for the Men’s Sweater, and have allegedly hemmed the top of the Hourglass. Problems with further progress on these two:
- Both of them are so large now that they are burdensome to carry around and knit in public.
- It is hard to knit a sweater for a person you don’t want to see the sweater when you’re always around the person.
- Stupid, stupid me! I must always remember to Google “(pattern name) problems” before I start into knitting it. I should’ve especially known better about the Hourglass from Last Minute Knitted Gifts, since I knew there was a problem with the Men’s Raglan Zip-Up pattern as written. But noooo, so I got all the way to hemming the top and learned of the “Flashdance Problem”. That is, the neckline is difficult to keep on both shoulders. Sure, the 80s are back, but I’d like my wool/mohair sweaters to keep me covered. Cranky Uncle Greg actually laughed at me when I tried this sweater on over my shirt at Pub Trivia. This is becaus CUG is a DICK.
And so... I’m ripping it out, back to the turning row for the hem at least, and will knit in a ribbed neckline of some sort. I now have to decide whether I should match the ribbing on the lower hem and cuffs, too. I’m glad I did a provisional cast-on with both of those, so this choice won’t involve ripping out my cast-on.
Also, I discovered socks this week. Bad.
I’m going to a 24-hour B movie marathon from tonight to tomorrow night. I have a bag full of knitting projects to work on, with a range of difficulties so I can move to a 2x2 rib scarf by the time I can no longer function fully. This bag includes the Tiffany angora sweater and the Basalt tank, so I’ll get some sweater work done.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
2007.4: Highway 61 Revisited (33 1/3) by Mark Polizzotti
A good book about my favorite Dylan album. This is one of those basic 33 1/3 books, with lots of background stuff about the recording sessions, and gossip about the likely subjects of many of the songs. It makes me want to delve further into the Dylan Encyclopedia I received at Christmas.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Sweater a Month/Knit Update
I have no pictures right now because my computer's busted and JZ took his camera with him out of town, so it's a text-only update.
Hourglass Sweater from Last-Minute Knitted Gifts: I have precious little to go on this one, actual-knitting-wise. A couple more rows on the yoke, the turning row for the hem, a few more rows there, and then it's on to the finishing, which mainly entails hemming everything.
Man's Raglan Zip-Up: I'm on the 2nd sleeve, after which it's the yoke. And... I also need to get around to buying the zipper to sew into it, but I'm waiting to block it out before I do that.
Angora pullover: Stopped working on this to focus on the first two, so still about 4" into the first side.
Many, many other projects: Pretty much same as I was (aka, did nothing on them this week).
I'll be going to a movie marathon tomorrow, and will then be going to a BIG movie marathon the weekend after that, so I'm going to try to crank out some easy projects while there.
Monday, January 15, 2007
2007.3: Consider the Lobster, David Foster Wallace
Well, I really like DFW's essay work, so I really liked this. I was amazed that the essay about lobsters, which featured many paroxysms of conscience about eating animals, actually ran in Gourmet. Also, the John McCain story, while entertaining, is still incredibly long and hard to get through, even the second time around. Randomly enough, a company briefly mentioned in his article on talk radio (Arbitron, a Nielsen-style radio ratings system) just called the office this morning, thinking this was a private line.
Are you bored with reading what I'm reading? Would reading the same kind of list, only by a famous dude with a killer Jewfro, be more fun for you? If so: What Art Garfunkel has been reading, 1968-present (found on Bookslut).
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Reasons Consider the Lobster was not the first book I read in 2007:
- Holy (insert expletive of choice here)
. The John McCain article is this long? I already read an abridged version of this monster in Rolling Stone seven years ago, and it was super-long then. - I left it at my apartment and instead read other things before I went back there.
- The airline tickets I’m redeeming for AAdvantage miles are my bookmark, and I can’t redeem them online until next week.
Anyhow, moving on:
2007.1: The Female Thing by Laura Kipnis. It was fun, it was bitchy, it was smart. I like her work and don’t quite understand the people who complain that she offers no answers. She does offer an answer, it’s just that her answer seems to be the adoption of a Marxist-Socialist regime.
2007.2: 69 Love Songs: A Field Guide (33 1/3) by LD Beghtol. It’s written by one of the vocalists on the album. It includes a crossword puzzle and features two references to Nancy Mitford. I don’t understand how Susan hasn’t read this yet.
Monday, January 01, 2007
Book Count 2007
2007.1: The Female Thing by Laura Kipnis
2007.2: 69 Love Songs: A Field Guide (33 1/3) by LD Beghtol
2007.3: Consider the Lobster by David Foster Wallace
2007.4: Neil Young's Harvest (33 1/3) by Sam Inglis
2007.5: My Bloody Valentine's Loveless (33 1/3) by Mike McGonigal
2007.6: All Downhill From Here by John Sellers
2007.7: Exile on Main Street (33 1/3) by Bill Janovitz
2007.8: The Thirty Years' War by C.V. Wedgewood
2007.9: Bruce Springsteen's Born in the USA (33 1/3) by Geoffrey Himes
2007.10: Joni Mitchell's Court and Spark (33 1/3) by Sean Nelson
2007.11: Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clark
2007.12: Harry Potter & the Half-Blood Prince by JK Rowling
2007.13: Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling
2007.14: Chuck Klosterman IV
2007.15: Love in a Fallen City by Eileen Chang
2007.16: Lucky Jim by Kingsley Amis
2007.17: The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan
2007.18: Joy Division's Unknown Pleasures (33 1/3) by Chris Ott
2007.19: The Wizard of Oz by Salman Rushdie
2007.20: Therapy by David Lodge
2007.21: The Sun King by Nancy Mitford
2007.22: Belle & Sebastian's If You're Feeling Sinister (33 1/3) by Scott Plagenhoef
2007.23: The Commitment by Dan Savage
2007.24: The Art of Fiction by David Lodge
2007.25: Reading Like a Writer by Francine Prose
2007.26: The Dud Avocado by Elaine Dundy
2007.27: Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons
2007.28: City of Glass by Paul Auster
2007.29: Ghosts by Paul Auster
2007.30: Slouching Towards Bethlehem by Joan Didion
2007.31: Thinks... by David Lodge
2007.32: The Minutemen's Double Nickels on the Dime (33 1/3) by Michael T. Fournier
2007.33: The Byrds' The Notorious Byrd Brothers (33 1/3) by Ric Menck
2007.34: Sonic Youth's Daydream Nation (33 1/3) by Matthew Stearns
2007.35: Molecular Gastronomy by Herve This
2007.36: Celine Dion's Let's Talk About Love (33 1/3) by Carl Wilson
Friday, December 29, 2006
Damn, skippy...
It's been awhile since I last posted. Now, in that time I've lost a computer and a loved one and gained a new job, but I should still try to keep this thing up to date. Also, I should be getting a new computer soon.
Resolved for 2007: Try to keep that book count updated, and don't feel all embarassed when the knitting keeps me from reading for months on end.
My likely first book finished in 2007: Consider the Lobster by David Foster Wallace, unless I really run through it today, tomorrow, and the next day. Which is possible, but I can always just knit instead of read some more.
Monday, October 09, 2006
Fall music
I believe it has been established (on this very blog) that I am a big fan of Autumn.. October especially. The leaves turn, I get to start wearing sweaters again, the Booker prize gets awarded (again this year on my birthday!), and I get PRESENTS.
It has also been established that I like the music. So now, now I will contemplate the music I listen to at the start of fall:
The Velvet Underground, all albums: Not sure why. I think I got the Best of VU in the fall when I was 12, so maybe it's just a coding thing. But also, the mellow songs have a pretty melancholy that work well with the Indian Summer.
Van Morrison, Moondance: Well, it references October. And how October is romantic. I adore Van Morrison, and Astral Weeks is all about the spring, so this is more appropriate.
Early Harry Nilsson: I don't know why, I just do.
Wilco, Being There: Again, I code some Wilco albums by season (Summerteeth is Summer, YHF is winter), and this is certainly the autumn listening album for me.
Belle and Sebastian, If You're Feeling Sinister: It just reminds me of emotionally stunted smart kids, which TOTALLY reminds me of the start of the college school year.
Vince Guaraldi, A Charlie Brown Christmas: It is never too early to start listening to "Linus and Lucy".
So... what do you listen to in the autumn?
Friday, September 22, 2006
New tournament!
Greg and I are running a tournament based off of the Pitchfork Top 200 Songs of the 1960s list. You can find it at the same old place as the last tournament. This time, though, I'm offering all the music up as mp3 downloads. Better get a head start on that, as I'm moving out of my apartment with stolen internet this weekend. So... vote! First round of voting ends on Sunday.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Pitchfork, Day Two
I am sunburned (because sunscreen just melts off your face in 100 degree heat). My face is puffy. I am tired, probably slightly dehydrated, and I just realized during a meeting at work that my right ear is still ringing slightly.
It was AWESOME.
But please remind me to pick up my earplugs from my apartment before Lolla next weekend.
Acts I completely missed: Liars (one of the few band I felt completely unrepentant about missing for a tamale run); Aesop Rock/Mr. Lif (waiting at the other stage for Mission of Burma); Devendra Banhart (waiting at other stage for Yo La Tengo); Spoon (waiting at other stage for Os Mutantes, drowned out by Diplo’s thumping bass).
Obligatory recommendation: Tapes ‘n’ Tapes were good! Scary promoter guy for Tapes ‘n’ Tapes threatened to kill my pet/harm my weakest family member if I didn’t say that. In a really scary way. Twice!
Swedish bragging: Somehow it was charming how Jens Lekman’s entire band was composed of attractive blondes dressed in white. It’s like Jens was saying, “You know, there are so many pretty women in Sweden that they have to do something else to get noticed. Some of them become talented musicians. There are so many that I can take six of them out of the country and it’s okay.”
Ongoing inquiry: What is the proper pronunciation of Jens Lekman’s first name?
The point at which all concepts of American vs. international and pop v. indie imploded: Sub Pop-signed Cansei Ser Sexy, who are from Sao Paulo and named themselves after a Beyonce quote, played in the Biz 3 tent. Before unleashing some noisy, noisy music on us, the lead singer yelled “Are you ready for this jelly?!” many times over.
Reason my ear are still ringing: Mission of Burma. So loud. So good. So very loud. Not that Yo La Tengo were quiet, either.
Ongoing inquiry: What happened to Roger Miller’s tinnitus? Could it come back?
Best thing I brought along (apart from water): Peppermint wet naps. They burn, but then they cool.
Number of songs YLT played off of previous albums: One that I could recognize, maybe two. And one of the songs I thought I knew from a previous album was actually the advance single released from I Am Not Afraid of You. I do wish they’d played something from Nothing or before. But I did get a setlist.
Amusing bit of continuity from yesterday: A woman was taping onstage before Os Mutantes’ set. At some point, I saw her looking confused as she held a few feathers that were still up there from Man Man’s set on Saturday.
Annoyance: If somebody stays at a stage for five hours to get to the front row for the last two acts of the day, they're not going to step aside for your extremely short daughter/girlfriend/female of indeterminate relationship to you, regarless of being taller than them. Do not call these people rude. It will not make them move. Instead, show up earlier. Or hang out in back! It's easier to see!
Os Mutantes: Awesome. That’s really all I have to say. The Brazilians up front were going insane. It was a little odd that they played the Americanized versions of a lot of their songs (nothing new, all these dated back to Technicolor), but still great. And I want to be their new lead singer (Zella) when I grow up, for she is awesome, and also in better shape than I am now.
Heartwarming Moment: Devendra Banhart, who publicly cites Os Mutantes as one of his biggest influences, got to come up onstage and sing backup on Bat Macumba. Awww.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Pitchfork, Day One
Hot. Hot hot hot. Sweat laced with sunscreen that isn't going to absorb dripping down my into my cleavage, wet shirt, hot.
And that was at 12:30, a half hour before any of the bands started playing. It pretty much stayed that way until the next-to-the-last band played.
And they only had one Ben & Jerry's truck. What the hell? Intonation had two or three, and Intonation was smart to do that. I'm buying through the fence from the biking helado vendor today. There's no line for him.
But the music was good.
Stage I didn't see today: Biz 3. I'm going to try to at least see CSS today.
Presumed Chicago City Ordinance: All music festivals in Chicago must begin with garage rock, apparently.
Bands I didn't see, and could only kinda hear: Band of Horses (waiting at front of other stage for The Mountain Goats), Destroyer (could hear enough to ID songs, but waiting at front of other stage for Art Brut), Ted Leo (THANK YOU, interminable Ben and Jerry's line).
If the Boredoms were pirates from Philly: They'd be Man Man. Two items of note about Man Man--the A stage was covered with feathers all day because of their shenanigans, and their drummer was sporting some short shorts. In white!
The act you had to be right up front to enjoy: Mountain Goats. I thought the set was amazing (he started out with "Jenny"! He played "Cubs in 5"!), but the further out my friends were from the stage, the lower opinion dipped (from halfway back in the park, it was apparently flat and disappointing). Incidentally, Mountain Goats had the biggest crowd lingering about before the set until later in the day (I'd say not until Futureheads). The crowd in front of Art Brut was wee compared to the MG people.
Act that rocked the park: Art Brut. Hands down, seemed to get the most people moving.
Cutest moment that reinforced my love of John Darnielle: him dancing around at the back of the stage during Art Brut. When lead singer Eddie Argos was walking off stage, John hugged him. Eddie then said something that looked like "I feel like I'm about to die", and John handed him his water bottle.
Proof that I'm blind, as well as deaf: I couldn't distinguish that the Walkmen were using a totally different-looking drummer (actually the old drummer from Walkmen precursors the Recoys), because regular drummer Matt Barrick's wife is having a baby right now.
New genre of music: Jan commented that, having seen them both on the same day, he now saw some similarities between Dan Bejar and David Berman. I said, "What? Hirsute, literate, intelligent rockers of Jewish descent? Are we calling this Talmud Rock now?". If anyone can think of a third person who could be lumped in this group, I'm officially calling it a movement.
Personal highlights: John Darnielle looking at me while singing "I hope we die/I hope we both die" during "No Children"; Jan getting a picture with Eddie Argos and the drummer of Art Brut.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Before the music: Pitchfork
Acts I know I’ve seen before: Chicago Underground Duo, Mountain Goats, Destroyer (twice), Ted Leo + Pharmacists (2 or 3 times), Walkmen (5 billion times), Glenn Kotche (maybe twice), Diplo (briefly last year), The National.
Band I should have seen by now, but didn’t: Yo La Tengo.
Good idea in theory: Biz 3 Stage. I vaguely want to see a lot of these acts, but most of what I want to see here is at odds with mainstage shows. Notable exceptions exist on Sunday, because of…
The semi-hidden Sunday theme: Brazil! Well, Os Mutantes makes it obvious at the end, but early on the Biz 3 stage there are two contemporary Brazilian acts, Bonde do Role and CSS. Also, Diplo is closing out the Biz 3 Stage, and that boy likes the baile funk.
Strategic quandary, minor: I’ll likely buy a poster or two at Flatstock. I need to figure out to enjoy the rest of the day after I buy it and still leave with the poster unharmed.
Strategic quandary, major: If I want to be at the front of the stage for Os Mutantes, I will have to miss Diplo’s set, which I’d otherwise be inclined to check out, since Spoon was apparently lackluster at Lolla last year. You’d think Texans could deal with performing in the heat.
Things I wish would go away: My dry, nagging cough; the ungodly heat.
Thins I wish would stay: battery power in my cell phone, clothes on my fellow concertgoers.
European folk-pop battle going on in my mind: Jose Gonzales at Intonation vs. Jens Lekman here.
Marked improvement over Intonation: Beverage sponsorship. Fuze is sponsoring, instead of Sparx, which I believe was battery acid cut with corn syrup, caffeine, and elephant testosterone.
Also: Magazine sponsorship. Readymade isn’t my favorite mag ever, but I’d rather see Martha Stewart Monthly sponsor than Vice.
Continued excellence from Intonation: The food. It looks like many of the same tents will be there, which means I can get tamales from Goose Island and corn muffins from Wishbone.
Also: Union Park. It’s really a great setup for festivals like this.
Adjacent acts that make amusing-sounding cage matches:
Chin Up Chin Up vs. Man Man
Band of Horses vs. Mountain Goats
Destroyer vs. Art Brut
(Incidentally, these are 6 consecutive bands from the Saturday main stages)
Acts I’m most looking forward to seeing: Os Mutantes, Yo La Tengo, Silver Jews, Jens Lekman, Mission of Burma
Books! I am so behind! I will be very brief.
10 Word Book Reviews
33 1/3 books:
Love’s Forever Changes: Gnosticism and Love? The author’s high. Ignores the amazing music.
The Pixies’ Doolittle: Riding in cars with Frank Black. No Kim Deal input.
Bowie’s Low: Brian Eno!Drugs! Iggy Pop! Drugs! Berlin! Drugs! Transvestites! Drugs!
Other books:
Angela Carter, Wise Children: Twins and Shakespeare. Bawdy and fun. I always enjoy Carter.
Joe Meno, The Boy Detective Fails: I saw the play; I read the book. Each is worth doing.
Nelson Algren, Man With the Golden Arm: Old, dirty Chicago. Junkies and drunks suffer intensely, then die.
Nancy Mitford, Madame de Pompadour: French king’s mistress charms, helps start Seven Years War, dies.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
The motherfucking results!
I'm not at work now, so I can use the entire word.
There were many great entries, in many (or three) great languages. Except Spanish. Fuck you, Spanish.
Anyhow!
It was pointed out by Cranky Uncle Greg last night that the winner is not actually a movie, but a miniseries. Well, I watched in all in one sitting, and I want to count it, so I'm counting it. Also, there's apparently a 1937 movie of the name, so nyah, it does count. Drumroll, please, the winner is:
I, Motherfucking Claudius.
See Claudius (Samuel L. Jackson) put the smack down on Nero that bad mother Agrippina! Also, the original includes the line "Is there any man in Rome who has NOT slept with my daughter?", so it pretty much fits already.
Congrats, Susan! Pick the 33 1/3 book of your choice.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Contest on my M.F.'ing blog!
In honor of this summer’s only true summer blockbuster, Snakes on a Plane, I have been contemplating the following deep, burning question:
What film titles could be most improved by imagining Samuel L. Jackson barking out their title with an interjectory “m.f.’ing” thrown in?
(Sorry about the actual lack of expletives, I’m at work. I work for a church organization. I feel slightly strange typing out expletives multiple times while here.)
My best so far:
Sleepless in M.F.’ing Seattle
Women on the Verge of a M.F.’ing Nervous Breakdown
Four Weddings and a M.F.’ing Funeral
But I think others could do much better than this. Therefore, a contest:
1. Come up with the movie title that could be most improved by imagining Samuel L. Jackson barking out their title with an interjectory “m.f.’ing” thrown in. Actually, come up with as many as you want. If appropriate, any other verb form of the aforementioned curse can be used, also.
2. Post them in my comments! Before, let’s say… 5pm, Friday June 16th. Yeah, that’s after my next paycheck.
3. I will pick my favorite one then, and will award this person the 33 1/3 series book of his or her choice, provided that one can find said book on Amazon.
So yeah, get to it. Tell your friends, tell your enemies, possibly win a book.
Richard Swift and my unwarranted Google dominance
So I'm apparently the top Google hit for the phrase "I am New York/Tired and Weak/Try to write a book each time I speak". This is a quote from a Richard Swift song, and my dominance seems unwarranted.
To recap my Swiftian adventures: many moons ago, I asked someone who worked at the label with me to pick some new music for me. He picked The Novelist, a very-limited-edition album by someone he vaguely knew through Starflyer 59. The album was very good, I really liked it (think gentler-saner-Rain Dogs-era Waits), tried to talk people into buying it, and heard nothing about Mr. Swift for awhile.
Then, Secretly Canadian re-released that album with another one, he started popping up on PopMatters.com, and he's now touring nationwide.
So yeah, I should not be the top Google hit for the title song from his first album.
Further research:
Richard Swift - The Novelist (MP3)
Richard Swift - Looking Back, I Should Have Been Home More (MP3)
And, randomly, because the domain was my birthday gift to my friend Dan... drumroll please... Stickfigure Hamlet. It is, if possible, more awesome than it sounds.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Bookstores and Unpleasant French Folk
I had a social old time at the Seminary Co-op this weekend, running into a friend from high school, another volunteer at OTS, and Alice, the GB librarian. Alice reminded me that one of the books I was holding, The Man With the Golden Arm, was the July GB Book Club selection, which may explain why I’ve been vaguely looking for it for several months.
Anyhow, I’ve just started reading it, but while flitting around Wikipedia trying to learn more about Algren, I came across this article by Louis Menand. Man, they were cold! Also, legally adopting your conquests: perhaps not the best idea. It’ll be interesting to see what comes out once the current custodians of their estates, and maybe the ones after that, pass on, and more gets released.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Dear Leslie Feist,
I recently pilfered your album Let It Die from a friend of mine. I find it pleasant, and look forward to listening to it while doing data analysis, as it will not distract me with interesting melodies or lyrics, and will probably not annoy any of my new co-workers. Thus, it will be played more at the office more than any, say, Fiery Furnaces album ever will. But before you get all high and mighty, I want to set a few things straight:
I think you are the white indie Sade. Which is not as good as being the original Sade, though it does make me want to hear you belt out Sweetest Taboo.
Well, on the other hand, you could just be the result of an experiment where they force-fed the Portishead lady Paxil until she got happy. That’s another option.
Your solo project goes by your last name, which I find a little too “early 70s post-hippie folk-rockers in L.A. doing lots of opiates” for my tastes. I feel you will somehow precipitate the coming of the indie-rock Fleetwood Mac, which I feel is imminent.
Speaking of indie, or not being so, your biggest hit to date is about REAL ESTATE. And WANTING BABIES. And you know what? Living on the second floor without a yard isn’t all that difficult, unless you live in a bad neighborhood and every time you come out of the stairwell you risk being mugged. I’m guessing you don’t.
I saw some video of yours. It was a corny 80s ripoff, or a ripoff of Le Tigre ripping off corny 80s videos. Whichever it was, your version was the weakest.
Your last name is Feist, but you aren’t very feisty.
I don’t think I’d actually pay for your album.
In short, Laura Feist, you seem to have the most successful solo project of any of the BSS/Stars collective folks. I suspect you must be romantically involved with the indie equivalent of Tommy Mattola (Gerald Cosloy?), because Emily Haines should be much, much more successful than you are.
Smoochies,
Ms. L
Edit: Thank you to pretend Leslie Feist for error-checking my blog.
Friday, June 02, 2006
Jenniferian update
I am still thinking about a potential 27 Jennifers mix. No sequencing yet, but these are the songs that would absolutely be on it:
27 Jennifers – Mike Doughty
Photo Jenny – Belle and Sebastian
Rock ‘N’ Roll – The Velvet Underground
Jenny and the S-Dog – Stephen Malkmus
Jennifer’s Body – Hole
Jennifer Juniper – Donovan
Jenny – Sleater-Kinney
Jenny – Minders
Jenny – Mountain Goats
Jenny from the Block - J. Lo
Jennifer Johnson and Me - Conway Twitty/Bobby Bare/Robert Earl Keen (some version)
Jennifer Save Me - Golden Smog
Jennifer Jupiter - Donovan
Melanie and Jennifer and Melanie – Destroyer
Jenifa Taught Me (Derwin's Revenge) - De La Soul.
Jenny Was a Friend of Mine - Killers
Debra – Beck
Maybes:
Jenny, You're Barely Alive--Rilo Kiley
Jenny--Janis Ian
Poor Jenny--The Everly Brothers
Saga of Jenny orPirate Jenny
Jenny Wren--Paul McCartney
Jennifer Lost the War--the Offspring
Jennifer – Eurythmics
Jennifer Eccles - Hollies
Jen Jen Jenny – Fambooey
"Back o' the Moon" by 10,000 Maniacs
Jennifer – Stella*starr
867-5309 (Jenny) – Tommy Tutone (I'd really rather not)
Baby's Got A Brand New Hairdo - Elvis Costello
Mack The Knife - Frank Sinatra
Jennie Lee – Sam & Dean (Shuggie Otis version exists)
Jenny – Mark Eitzel
Jenny, Jenny – Little Richard
Jennifer She Said – Lloyd Cole
Any thoughts?
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Letter meme
I'm guessing everyone who sees this knows what's up, and has probably already done it. Comment if you want me to give you a letter.
Greg gave me M. I’m only gonna repeat one of his, and it’s the first one. Here we go:
Michigan – Oh, the friends. Oh, the enemies. (And all of those who’ve switched back and forth.) Oh, the asthma attacks. Oh, the free spiced mochas and trash team entries stemming thereof. Oh, the crazy guy jumping me on a bridge. For a state I’ve never inhabited, Michigan and its residents feature prominently in a lot of my stories.
Mother of Pearl – The song I listened to over and over again this morning on the way to work. It was featured on How I Met Your Mother last night, and I impulse-downloaded it. I love early-to-mid Roxy Music. And it references Thus Spake Zarathustra! Does Franz Ferdinand make such references in their poppy dance songs, I ask you? No!
Matador Records – Probably my favorite record label, if somebody made me pick one. I’m not a fan of everything, but they release tons of my favorite bands’ records. In junior high and high school, it was Pavement, Liz Phair, and Yo La Tengo. Now, it’s Belle & Sebastian, New Ps, and… Yo La Tengo.
Maid of Honor – What I’ll be about 54 weeks from now.
MG, aka “The Historian” – Awful boyfriend, great breakup story.
Michael Drew – My only full sibling. We’ve grown a lot closer than we were in the days when he tried to beat my door down with a golf club. Also, due to his arrest record and the fact that he still lives at home, he makes it extremely easy to be the good child.
Mike Mills (bassist for R.E.M., not the photographer) – An early crush. Demonstrated that my weakness for boys with glasses would overcome any aversion I felt about bad teeth.
Mould, Bob (alternately, could be “Minneapolis-St. Paul rock scene”) – I found the only college rock station in my part of Oklahoma by recognizing the lyrics to a Sugar song I’d never actually heard. Also, much of my early alt/indie education came from a friend of my dad who’d grown up in Minneapolis, who taped off large portions of his music collection for me.
Manhattan – The first Woody Allen film I remember watching. It was on late at night on TNT. I was… eleven, twelve? I loved the intro, and then fell asleep.
Mars, Veronica – The titular protagonist of the only TV show I’m really, really, REALLY into right now. Now that pub trivia has been cancelled, I'm seriously debating skipping out on socializing with lovely GB folks to watch the finale live.
Friday, April 28, 2006
I haven't been to a bar that cool since puberty.
There was a big uproar about some local hipster watering hole on Chicagoist yesterday. It got me to thinking… thinking about how the biker bar I used to go to in Enid, Oklahoma when I was little is way cooler than almost every bar in Chicago. Think… Delilah’s plus Hideout plus bikers minus Bloodshoot Records and actual good booze.
Further evidence:
It was named the Pressure Cooker, but everyone just called it “The Cooker”.
Bikers! And Hogs! Well, mostly Yamahas. But there weren’t enough bikers in Enid to have different bike gangs or anything, so all the bikers hung out, except during the occasional brawl. But I wasn’t ever there in the evenings, which was when the brawls would occur.
My mom dated one of the bikers (nickname: Fish), and he totally blew-dry his hair and used styling product and sang the praises of the courtesy flush with his roommate-brother. In 1988! (Sidenote: this led to a great story about my mom and Fish yelling out a conversation several years later, when Mom and I were on the county green, and Fish was in the county prison.)
ADDAMS FAMILY PINBALL. Accept no substitutes.
Afternoon pool tournaments twice a week, which is why I was there. What, you think I was hanging out at a biker bar by myself at age 8?
It was clearly a pro-kids sort of biker bar. More on that later.
The bartender, who was the son of the owner, always gave me peanuts or chips when I sat at the bar to do my homework.
The bikers always let me retrieve their horseshoes from the pit when I was playing outside.
There was a crank-operated water spigot outside near the horseshoe pit, for when the place got so smoky that it burned my eyes slightly.
On the jukebox: 776 – Where the Streets Have No Name. 777 – All My Exes Live in Texas (That’s Why I Hang My Hat in Tennessee) by George Strait. And the 7 stuck. I once played that song 4 times in a row trying to get U2.
When my DARE instructor talked about how rough the Cooker was in 6th grade, I realized DARE was a load of junk.
Some regular, or some relative of a regular, had a farm nearby. There was a Cooker Cookout there every year. At one of those cookouts, they printed up a bunch of white-with-red-ringer tees with the phrase “Cooker Kid” for the children of all the regulars. I am going to recreate this t-shirt at Strange Cargo or the T-shirt Deli sometime soon.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Catchup!
I was going to give each book I read a post, but I’m now five books behind, so forget that. Here we go:
The Velvet Underground and Nico by Joe Harvard
Once I got past the truly terrible chemistry metaphor (that seemed to indicate that water could easily be created it from its constituent elements), this was a good read. The best parts were focused on the recording process more than on the band (probably a good bet when the top guy in the band turned into an insufferable jerk). My favorite anecdote is Nico sobbing “I vant to seeng like Bob Deeeeeeee-lahn!”
The Kinks are the Village Green Preservation Society by Andy Miller
Not quite as good as Fusilli’s Pet Sounds book, but in the same vein (though Pet Sounds focused more on the artist, TKATVGPS more on the recording): really brilliant guy writes really brilliant album that tanks commercially, but is eventually seen as his masterpiece. Unfortunately, this entire process makes guy go really nuts.
What I also enjoyed was the discussion of b-sides and non-album tracks around the time. The Kinks had a ton of these, which is why all the recent re-releases almost double the album size with bonus tracks. This book came out right before the re-releases, so it’s strange to read Miller describing how rare, say, “Wonderboy” is, when I now have it on my iPod.
Candyfreak by Steve Almond
CANDY! CANDY CANDY CANDY CANDY CANDY! I like Candy. I’ve been eating lots of Lake Champlain chocolate since reading this book. Almond does a good job of staying on the right side of the Klosterman line, where his muddled social life comes up, but doesn’t overwhelm the ostensible subject of the book.
Freakonomics by Steves Levitt and Dubner
If you don’t know the basics of this book, you’re probably not reading this. It was fun finally getting to read the entire thing, though.
Amsterdam by Ian McEwan
It was a compelling read, and I finished it quickly, but… sigh. It was very well-written and tightly-plotted. I just don’t care about morally suspect upper-middle class (or above) middle-aged British men caught up in very artificially constructed moral conundra. It was so spare. It makes me long for a good fabulist or magical realist book, with all attendant messiness. No more British novels for a little while, at least.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Fiction!
Book #13: The Bell by Iris Murdoch
Man, could those women with ill-defined moral codes stop it with the troublemaking?
Other than that, Murdoch is great at describing the internal ditherings of indecisive, flawed folks. I like the two books I've read by her, but they both seem to march on in a somewhat grim, predetermined fashion. It somehow does manage to be wickedly funny, though.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Proof that I read books that aren't about music.
Book #12: The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion
I almost feel bad writing a SURLY about this. This book covers a year that included multiple hospitalizations for Didion's daughter (Quintana Roo died around the time the book was published); during the first hospitalization, her husband passed away while they were getting ready for dinner.
That being said... you gotta know that a writer whose work is as bleak as Didion's is going to write amazingly on one of the most unrelentingly bleak of topics. And she does, in her way.
Incidentally, if you don't like Didion that much, here's a crazy mean essay about her.
Friday, April 07, 2006
Frankie say read this book.
Have I mentioned that I’m co-running an Indie Rock Tournament, with the willing/capable/gullible Greg? Because I am.
Next up, bookwise: Simon Reynolds’s Rip It Up and Start Again: Postpunk 1978-1984 It’s really good. Even though it’s a cycle of “band is interesting, signs to label, oh, look at their decline”, it’s good. Even though it ends with Frankie Goes to Hollywood, it’s good. If you have any interest in the music of this era, I'd strongly suggest you check it out.
My one small complaint: he uses the exact same phrasing (roughly “Unlike some punk bands who claimed not to be proficient but who were actually skilled players,
But apart from my gender squabbles… a fine book.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Hermanueticize!
So, I'm again about 4 books back on keeping up with this thing. In fact, I completed Murmur by J. Niimi before the last couple of bookson this list. What to say about this book... it is a book about the R.E.M. album written by a University of Chicago student. I could emphasize this with a lot of "No, really. REALLY"'s after some of those nouns, but it'd probably be easier to just quote a paragraph from the book (incidentally, about a Wire song) to make the point:
The second half of each chorus ("Squared to it/ Faced to it/ It was not there") seems to imply that the true nature of the thing to which the song continually alludes was eventually uncovered, but that its uncovering was stillborn for the fact that it could still be only communicated through the Leviathan of psuedo-bureau-speak. "It" was never to be revealed, the triumph of its discovery evaporated into clouds of lingua franca, a mutual conspiracy necessary for each party's continued sustenance. Wire turns the expected climax of the chorus into a meditative anticlimax.So if you'd like to read an entire book like that (and I'm not coming down on either side, just noting that the entire book rolls this way), then get to it.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
The Jennifer Project.
Mike Doughty played “27 Jennifers” during his Old Town show this weekend, and it got me to thinking about the songs that feature Jennifers, Jenny/i/ie/eys, and Jen(n)s. Were there 27 such songs good enough to put on a mixtape? Well, we’re getting there, and you should feel free to help. The ground rules are: song must feature a Jen(nifer) in its title, or such a character must play a prominent role in the song itself. Thus far, we have:
27 Jennifers – Mike Doughty
Photo Jenny – Belle and Sebastian
Rock ‘N’ Roll – The Velvet Underground
Jenny and the S-Dog – Stephen Malkmus
Pop Goes the World – Men Without Hats
Jennifer’s Body – Hole
Jennifer Juniper – Donovan
Jennifer – Stella*starr
Jenny – Sleater-Kinney
867-5309 (Jenny) – Tommy Tutone (sigh)
…and I know I’m forgetting several. So, do you know any?
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Long-delayed, and not much substance.
I have fallen sorely behind in my SURLY-writing. I’ve also fallen behind on reading (thanks, knitting!); so much so that I have only finished 3 books since last posting.
In the Aeroplane Over the Sea by Kim Cooper (33 1/3 Series)
I didn’t know too much about the background of the album, or the start of Elephant 6, so this was a fine book to read. Isn’t Elephant 6 perhaps deserving of a book just about the collective, though? C’mon, there’s a book about Emo.
Cinderella’s Big Score: Women of the Punk and Indie Underground By Maria Raha.
Lots of fun information, and the introductions to each time period were great overviews of music and feminist issues that were important at each epoch. However, the actual meat of the book, the analyses of lots and lots of bands, were a bit lacking because they were all so short. “Here’s this band! A little history! Why they were important as feminists.”. I realize that a more expansive analysis would have made this quite the tome, but I may have cut out the chapter about Peaches to hear more about Patti Smith.
Underground by Haruki Murakami
Very good. Haunting. Not the best book to read on the El.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
I Will Dare
Book 6: Let it Be (Replacements) by Colin Meloy (33 1/3 Series)
First off, this is not really about the ‘Mats Let It Be. At least not about the making of it. The sooner you let go of that notion, the happier you’ll be with what the book actually is, which is the memories of someone who came to love “college rock” slowly, his tastes shaped by the whims of distant cool friends and relatives, and built by perusing magazines and record stores, looking for the bands he vaguely remembered someone mentioning. The album is a focal point of this process, and a jumping-off point for ruminations on becoming a music fan. Change all the pronouns from masculine to feminine, and you pretty much have my early years, so I adore this book for completely selfish reasons that may not translate well to anyone else. Its portrait of the indie fan as a young man is absolutely dead-on, right down to the embarrassing music he loved before. Oh, and the author is in a pretty good band, too.
There is a small continuity error in the book, but I pointed it out to the editors, who are fixing it in the reprint and now mailing me a free book from the series, so we should forgive them for that.
Friday, January 20, 2006
It's not terrific, but it's competent.
Book 5: Belle and Sebastian: This is Just a Modern Rock Story by Paul Whitelaw
Things I learned from this book:
-People in bands together should not date.
-The band, their manager, and generally everyone in the book agrees with me that Sinister and Waitress are currently the strongest albums Belle and Sebastian have made.
-Arab Strap was a wee bit peeved about that album title.
-Stuart is a connoisseur of abnormal pants.
-Isobel is the reason Arab Strap and Peasant falter, because Stuart indulged her too much. (See first point.)
Even though the author takes pains to say that maybe Isobel was unfairly blamed for tension within the band, he then goes on to make her sound like a silly twit afraid of travel, sex, adulthood, big crowds, and rock music (oh, and she’s incapable of sustaining an entire solo album). With her memorable quotes including “back when Chris used to bring cakes to practice, that’s when I liked being in the band” and “when you’re on the road, you’re always bent over, rummaging in your suitcase, it can hurt your back”, either Whitelaw is very cruelly sending her up, or she’s an utter twee twit. And speaking of twee, the italicized intros and outros to each chapter are god-awfully precious. Must we keep referring to Stuart Murdoch as “the curious boy”?
Apart from that, though, it provides interesting background on a band that shunned publicity for a long time, and shows the importance of the welfare system for artists in Scotland in the early to mid-90s. Seriously. Everyone was on the dole.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
The count-up continues...
Book 4: Gun, With Occasional Music by Jonathan Lethem
Lethem is very, very clever. Lethem wants to show you how he can combine Raymond Chandler and Philip K. Dick. Lethem will not really explain why animals can talk, or what babyheads are. Lethem will make you smirk about everyone being addicted to their own specialized drug mixes. Lethem will let you tie that to today’s use of psychotropics and will let you feel smart and superior with minimal effort. But Lethem can’t quite make you believe that, over the course of a six year lapse that happens in this book, wallets and trashcans and guns (see the title!) start making their own music.
I actually liked this book, although I found the world Lethem constructed a little too busy (at least by the point of the singing trashcans... why?). Also, due to the lack of description of the “babyheads” (a class of people messed up by genetic engineering), I kept picturing them all as large-scale baby Stueys. Still, it’s a fun, smart read; I could see this being made into a very intelligent first-person mystery video game quite easily.
I'm now reading a lot of books on music, so expect it to get less respectable around here. I'm almost done with the Belle and Sebastian bio, y'all!
Monday, January 09, 2006
Books and Surliness
I have no clue how much I read throughout the course of a given year. Sure, I’m usually reading something, but I go through periods when I’m reading magazines/websites/cookbooks/craft books, when I can’t find a book to fit my mood and thus thumb through the first 20 pages of every book in the house before I start trolling the used bookstores, and when I get so busy with various other things in my life that my reading rate slows waaaaay down.
Therefore, I’ve decided to count the books I read this calendar year. This is in part inspired by the 50 Book Challenge on LJ (and VCB’s book blog), but I’m not really looking to hit a certain number, just see what number I hit.
Of course, if the number is looking low, this public documentation may compel me to read more to make myself look better. Can’t measure position without affecting momentum, you know.
With this count, I also introduce a new feature: I will write a Short, Unenlightening Review of Literature for this Year (SURLY) for each book I read. I’ve finished three books far, so let’s get started.
Book 1: Bee Season by Myla Goldberg
I admit, I read this almost entirely because there’s a Decemberists song about the author. It’s sweet, though a little slight, and I liked the earlier part of the book, focusing on the oppression of knowing you’re a mediocre child around smart people better than the latter part of the book, where the emotional distance of the family and each person’s escape into mysticism to fill the void was rather relentlessly expounded upon. Also, although I’ve not seen the movie, I kept picturing the parents as Juliette Binoche and Richard Gere. Way too attractive to be these people.
Book 2: The Beach Boys’ ‘Pet Sounds’ by Jim Fusilli
This book is like crack to me, as I mentioned in an earlier post. Fusilli covers all of the songs on Pet Sounds, and somehow manages to link Brian Wilson’s sadness to his use of complex harmonies without it sounding like bullshit. It’s a pretty good primer of the Beach Boys up to the recording of Pet Sounds, though it doesn’t get to the part where PAUL MCCARTNEY IS EVIL.
Book 3: After the Quake by Haruki Murakami (partial re-read)
Hey, it’s Haruki Murakami. Hey, it’s emotionally alienated people in weird situations. But this time… there’s a naturally occurring reason! I love Murakami’s short stories (Elephant Vanishes is one of my favorite works of his), and I’ve been meaning to finish this slim volume since I saw the Steppenwolf adaptation of the last two stories. All these stories occur after the Kobe earthquakes, but before the subway attacks later in 1995 (a time during which Murakami lived in America, teaching at Princeton). I’m going to have to pick up his nonfiction work about the latter tragedy, Underground, because his work here is lovely.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
"Behind the Music" + books + good music = love
Oh dear. I’ve just found another cultural product on which I can (and probably will) spend much time and money. I’ve known about it for some time, but I didn’t get addicted until my grandma hooked me up. I’m not even done with the first voyage, but I want to take another trip soon.
Yes, folks, I’ve finally started reading the 33 1/3 series.
I suppose my ardor is pretty predictable. I love books, these are books. I like critically acclaimed music, most of these books are about highly regarded albums and are often written by esteemed music critics or indie musicians. And I love the VH1-style “Behind the Making of the 50 Greatest Albums that Rocked the 90s” shows. (My love for the show on the making of Back In Black by AC/DC exceeds the love I’ve felt for many actual people.) And now, I have books that read like smarter versions of these shows, largely about music I actually really adore. Sweet.
Right now, I’m working through Jim Fusilli’s take on Pet Sounds. It’s a pretty straight-ahead work; a little preface on the author’s tough times and how his life was saved by rock and roll, then right into Brian Wilson’s emotional problems and studio habits. I know other books in the series take different approaches (at least one of the books is a novella), but this was a good starter (not least of all because I adore this album). As smart as she is, though, I suspect my grandmother opted to pick this one over my other recommendations of The Replacements’ Let It Be and Neutral Milk Hotel’s In the Aeroplane Over the Sea because she knows who the Beach Boys are.
Now I just have to stay away from that “Purchase all books in this series!” button on Amazon…
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
The Adventures of Reading The Adventures of Augie March
So, I managed to finally buy I’m Not the New Me yesterday, though I should’ve bought it ages ago. I even managed to read the whole 300 pages in about two and a half hours (I forget how quickly I can down lucidly written straight narrative prose, since I don’t tend to read it that much). I greatly enjoyed it, and was looking forward to discussing it with the author (whom I last saw dressed as a character from a V.C. Andrews novel). I then managed to get on the last Purple Line express train instead of a Brown Line, and thus missed the book club anyhow. Oof.
So, the next Gaper’s Block Book Club won’t meet until January 10th, when we’ll be discussing… The Adventures of Augie March. I have attempted to read this book at least four times. Each of these times, because someone I know and whose tastes in literature I greatly respect has declared it to be a favorite book, and a book worth reading. Each of those four times, I stopped short of 100 pages, and then picked up Dom DeLillo, Salman Rushdie, Italo Calvino, and Angela Carter, respectively. My last attempt was awhile ago, but I’m going to finish this time.
I have: 56 days until the next GB Book Club meeting.
My copy of AM is 592 pages long, according to Amazon (I don’t have it with me).
That’s an average of 10.5 pages a day. I am promised that it picks up after a page 45 to page 100ish slump. This seems vaguely doable.
With a support group.
Friday, October 28, 2005
Halloweaning
As you’ve probably heard me babble about if you know me at all (or have read the back-entries of this blog), I used to work at a costume shop. Two years out from my last Halloween there, I’m starting to not hate the holiday any more. To commemorate this, I give you:
My Top Ten Halloween Season Memories.
10. De-thonging the costumes, and inserting a sheet explaining that thongs can be picked up after purchase, and that these costumes were not returnable.
9. Hey! Let’s let people try on packaged costumes with 17 accessories, which they will then dump on the dressing room floor and leave there. Also, who leaves an empty, half-crushed Diet Coke can hanging from one of the pegs that hold striped tights?
8. Do we have pint blood? Gallon blood? Little blood packets? Gel blood? Thick blood? Blood in medical-style bags? How about the 17 varieties of vampire teeth, ranging in price from $.49 to $49.99?
7. My desk was overlooked by a 12’ tall animatronic monkey (with a huge Santa hat for the holidays), and I knew where the actual human skeleton was in the store. And also, how to knock down the pirate section to escape the basement in the case of a fire.
6. Sometimes, my boss would just drop by my desk to stick a nail up his nose and say hi.
5. I am fine with transvestites. I am significantly less fine with crazy chatty people who happen to be transvestites, and I am really rather not cool at all with crazy chatty people who happen to be transvestites and corner me in the fake breast section of the store for twenty minutes about who hit on them at what bar and when they want to get their surgery, until a coworker notices I’m trapped and pages me over the intercom to the front desk. This person is also the reason I can utter the inquiry, “Have I told you the prosthetic vagina story?” and be serious.
4. Having an office on the second floor directly above the women’s dressing room, and thus being able to yell “THREE COSTUME LIMIT” in my deity voice at the sorority girls who tried to bring in half the store.
3. CAKE MACHETE. (Okay, not Halloween, but I don’t care. CAKE MACHETE.)
2. Ordering from this catalog. Also, locking this catalog in my desk because, while Heather and I were the only people who put together orders from Leg Ave, it was shockingly popular with the menfolk.
1. It’s November 1st. Time to order Santa suits, guys.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
In which Ms. P beats up on John Updike.
Thanks to Bookslut, I recently read an interview with John Updike from the Sun-Times in which he said:
"I also read Salman Rushdie's new book. He's an interesting writer. Not quite a master yet, but he's getting there."
Michael Schaub commented that he'd thought Rushdie was a master since about 20 years ago. I'm inclined to agree. Also, while I like some Updike (the Early Stories collection is wonderful and intimidating in its accomplishment), I also find a great deal of his work painfully dull and indulgent, especially compared to the similarly verbose but far more delightful Rushdie. Also, Rushdie is all of 15 years younger than Updike, so I see no reason for him to play the condescending avuncular role.
Because of this, and because I am a mean person who loves meaningless comparisons, I decided to do a side-by-side comparison of books Updike and Rushdie published around the same time. I realize that Updike began publishing significantly earlier, and I think his earlier works are better, and yeah, it's under 10 novels versus, gee, about five hundred by this point, but you see, I don't really care.
1975: Grimus and A Month of Sundays
Ah, the only matchup where I haven't at least read part of either of the books, I'll admit. I have heard that Grimus is so bad that Rushdie tried to keep it out of print and is embarassed when he sees people reading it, so I'll go ahead and give the nod to Updike here.
1980/81: Midnight's Children and Rabbit is Rich
Right on to the one where I've read both books at least twice. Excellent. This one is also a pretty loaded one--winner of the Super-Booker vs. a Pulitzer prize winner. I suppose I could declare it a tie, but I prefer the grand, sprawling, historical-mythological dazzle to the the minutely-detailed account of a man, his midlife crisis, and his private parts.
1983/84: Shame and Withces of Eastwick
I always found Witches disappointing; despite the three heroines being differentiated, they're all such stereotypes that it just hammers home that Updike can't really write a fully sketched, complex woman. Even the movie, with the Ballsy One, the Uptight One, the Shy One, and the Devil, shows a bit more nuance (and doesn't show the women as ravenous man-eaters to quite the same degree). Shame isn't lacking in violent women (including three furies), but it's also a complex allegory of Pakistan, instead of a thin allegory about the dangers of desire.
1988: The Satanic Verses and S.
I find SV difficult and not one of Rushdie's best works, but I once read 30 pages of S. because someone told me I would hate it. I do. Again, a female protagonist. Again, she is a flaky flake-flake, and is driven to do what she does because the men in her life control her. Sigh.
1990: Haroun and the Sea of Stories and Rabbit at Rest
Okay, there's really only one way this could go. It won the Pulitzer. It was good, though Rabbit Remembered later kinda wrecked it for me. Haroun, like Woody Allen's musical, is one of those slight things that I like but realize is not the greatest thing ever.
1995/96: The Moor's Last Sigh and In the Beauty of the Lilies
Well, at least Updike isn't trying to write a woman protagonist anymore. But up against one of Rushdie's best female characters, the religious fable is a little pale.
1999/2000: The Ground Beneath Her Feet and Gertrude and Claudius
Oh, hey! Look! It's Aurora from Moor's Last Sigh! Only... she's a rock star now? Okay, sure. Not as strong as other Rusdie works, but man, G & C knocked me out better than Ambien whenever I attempted to get through it.
I haven't read either's new works yet, so I won't speak to them. But it's still looking 5-2 Rushdie to me. I think he's gotten there.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Evil (Baking) Genius
So, the key to getting your friends to watch 5 episodes of Veronica Mars in one Sunday seems to include a couple rounds of yummy warm beverages, followed by increasingly elaborate presentations of Ghirardelli double-chocolate brownies. And apparently people really appreciate a cocoa-rimmed martini glass full of hot chocolate. I need to get some Godiva liqueur, because the only way this would work better is to get them intoxicated. Now that my apartment is clean (…ish), I enjoy having company, especially on rainy Sundays.
In other news, hey, we won F.O.G.H.A.T. I was the second-highest scorer on our team with a whopping 13.33 ppg. Thanks, Craig! Now I just need to ritualistically burn the Desperate Housewives: Dirty Laundry board game I won. I initially stuck Geoff with this, but his exceedingly evident discomfort with this actually spurred some inkling of compassion in me, and I swapped the Law and Order game to him.
Monday, October 10, 2005
Booker!
You know, I should've prognosticated about the Booker, because I'd seem pretty smart right now. When I heard The Sea had made it to the shortlist, I immediately thought "if a book this obscure got to the shortlist, it's gonna win the prize in an upset". And hey look, it did.
Sucks for Julian Barnes, but Arthur and George isn't his greatest work. They'd be giving it to him to apologize for not giving it to him in the past.
So, time to go pick up a copy of the winner, soon to be emblazoned with a "Winner of the Man Booker Prize" sticker.
Friday, October 07, 2005
The Octoberist
Greg semi-recently posted about this time of the year being his favorite. I am inclined to agree, though not because it's the start of curling season. So here, in no particular order, is a list of reasons I adore October:
-Seasonally appropriate to sing "Moondance" by Van Morrison!
-Leaves changing colors!
-Uptick in squash/pumpkin ravioli with sage butter served at local restaurants!
-Sweaters! Cute fuzzy SWEATERS!
-My mom's birthday! We speak pleasantly!
-My birthday! My mom and I speak pleasantly and I get presents!
-Chicago International Film Festival!
-Cubs fans stop urinating publicly in my neighborhood!
-Because I'm a knowledge loving nerd... memories of school starting!
-School starting always meant new boys! With whom I could flirt! (New-boy giddiness is right up there with new-car smell for top ephemeral joys.)
-New boys... in sweaters!
-Stupid hat/scarf/mittens combo sets! Preferably with poofballs!
-Opals! (Hey, does your birthstone cause bad luck if someone not born in your month wears it? My birthstone is badass.)
-Seeing your breath mist up for the first time! (This gets old by February, but is really exciting after the summer.)
-Halloween! (I'm finally getting a little excited about this again, after the fun was killed off during two years at a costume shop. I'm still not going to dress up, but I no longer shudder at the thought of the holiday.)
Oh, October. If it weren't for the compulsory pantyhose-wearing at work, you'd be perfect.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Birthday plans.
Aw, man. The first season of Veronica Mars would come out the day after my birthday. Guess this means no all-night marathon at casa de Geoff after the concert Saturday night. Bummer.
Speaking of the birthday... does anything want to do something around that time? I'm actually going to a book club the night of my birthday (yeah, yeah, shut up), but a late dinner/drink/running around yelling "wooooo, my age is once again divisible by 2" would be fun.
Musical musings
Now that I've spent a few years plumbing the depths of obscure music, I'm beginning to see a few bands I knew when they were unknown start to get some bigger exposure. Strangely enough, what really hammered this home was the season premiere of The O.C.. (Yes, you can shut up. Thanks for asking!)
Now, I was delighted enough last season when I heard an A.C. Newman song start up, but imagine my surprise when, in the first scene after the credits, Beretta by Manishevitz started playing. Now, this is a really great song, and sounds like a Psychedelic Furs b-side from around the time Pretty in Pink came out; it worked wonderfully in the show. But I know this song because it appears on the Hideout Worker's Comp, which, true to its name, is a compilation of songs by bands whose members work at the eponymous bar. Half the bands on that comp weren't signed; the most famous person on there was the bassist for Wilco, who did a track with his sister. Hearing a track I've been putting on my mixtapes for two years blaring on Fox was a little strange.
Speaking of tracks I've been putting on mixtapes for two years, I believe I've been crowing about Richard Swift's The Novelist for about that long. Roy from Parasol (who may have known Swift through a band they'd both worked with) told me to buy this when it was out in a 600-disc printing from a tiny, tiny label. Fast-forward two years and one vinyl-only single later. All of a sudden, Swift is on Secretly Canadian, is showing up on Salon, Stereogum, PopMatters, and Pitchfork, and goes on his first nationwide tour. He's not exactly showing up on The O.C. yet, but he's a bit of a belated overnight success, in a very independent label sort of way.
Bizarre.
On a similar theme, I have a list of songs for the tournament. They are being vetted by my obscurist friends, and I'll need to find some mainstream friends to go through and point out the bands they've never even heard of before. (Volunteers?) Seeding after that. With any luck, should be up and running by the weekend.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Yet another blog-based music tournament.
You know what? I’ll say it. I’m lonely, lonely, lonely and bored without the dissing and the petty arguments provided by the Craig-curated, Flaxman-officiated Rolling Stone best songs tournament. It also looks like Flax is going to take a (deserved) break after a (really very well-run, despite my whining) tournament before starting up his next one. And it’s time people get to yell at me for a change. So… Susan suggested, perhaps, a best alterna- or indie-rock songs contest. This sounds lovely to me. How do we feel about this? Nominate songs by emailing me at jleahwill latter former irks Susan. Current idea is a 192 or so tournament, ties possibly broken by me or the majority decision of me, Susan, and Greg. But let’s just nominate now. Rank if you’d like. Unlimited number. Go for it, kids.
ETA: I meant that Susan hates U2, though I suspect that at least four songs in a field of 192 would be from them (something early, something Joshua Tree, something Achtung, All I Want Is You, maybe?).
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Bitterness and Bad Puns
First off, congrats Dave and Emily! I had a great time at the wedding yesterday, and I look forward to seeing you for the K-zoo show (and yes, I’ve decided to go after all). Hope you didn’t mind when I hid the camera up my skirt, but Mike was gonna take it and erase the photo otherwise.
Now on to more unpleasant, but possibly more amusing things.
So the day I got attacked, i was IM’ing someone about it, and his response was:
Ass: You know why this happened?
Ass:Sex appeal.
Now, despite his subsequent claims that this was just a lame attempt at humor that backfired, I found this fairly appalling, and I’m not exactly on speaking terms with him anymore, but this faux pas has at least spawned a fun new time waster.
Susan and I, when going to some concert or another recently, were talking about the above statement, when I mentioned I’d been thinking about similarly inappropriate things to say in response to various calamities, things that would also be come-ons and really bad puns. Because I am nice and oh so subtle, I’ve declared these statements "Litvakisms". Susan thought composing Litvakisms was a fine idea, and we started composing some (though I’ve forgotten some good ones):
You know why your house burned down? ‘Cause you’re so fucking HOT!
You know why you got lung cancer? Because you’re smokin’!
You know why that guy stole your purse? Because you stole his HEART!
…etc, etc.
So, anyone have any good Litvakisms they want to share? Comment.
Friday, September 02, 2005
Green Zebra! Talking Heads rap!
After discussing it for many moons, Susan and I rather spontaneously decided to finally eat at Green Zebra last night. It was very, very good, though I was less entranced by the Avocado panna cotta and Susan less enamoured of the lentil cakes than either of us thought she'd be. But the food was overall great, and the desserts were to die for. I do love a mint ice cream that tastes of herbal mint, instead of mint extract.
In addition to the food there was, of course, booze. I'd been volunteering earlier at the Old Town School; since I was the only one of four expected volunteers to show up, someone gave me a free Honkers as consolation. I then got a Purple Haze (raspberry beer!) when we first showed up... and then we ordered a bottle of wine. Needless to say, Susan consumed most of that bottle.
Thus we were both a bit in our cups when we caught a cab back to the red line station. During this trip, rap was playing in the background. At some point, I broke off the conversation when I heard a rap song with the lyrics "She put the sugar on my tongue/She's gonna gimme gimme gimme some."
Me: That's... that's... a Talking Heads song!
Susan: Yes, yes it is.
Me: But rap!
Susan: [nods sagely and/or intoxicatedly]
Me: [high pitched whimpering and incoherent arm pointing and waving]
Susan: You are hurting dogs with that sound!
Having investigated the situation, apparently a southern rapper named Trick Daddy recorded the song, which features Ludacris and Cee-Lo. So there you go.
I'm heading into a five-day weekend, though the latter two days will be a trip to Ann Arbor to deal with the crazy guy who attacked me while jogging last weeekend. I will be going to pub trivia in Ann Arbor, though. I'm trying to find the silver lining of this situation, and pub trivia seems to be it.
Friday, August 26, 2005
I'm about to rename this blog "Bookprude".
It's been awhile. Believe it or not, I've been busy reading. And going to a reading. At this reading, Jessa from Bookslut misidentified me as a Woman and Children First Books worker. Apparently I have the "Women and Children First look" about me.
Well, I bought 10 more books last weekend (8 within 12 hours... stupid slutty Hyde Park! Having high quality bookstores!), but I promise I didn't pay full price for any of them.
From Powell's:
Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter, Vargas Llosa
(shelved both in the L's and the V's!)
Heart of Darkness, Conrad
(Yes, I am the one person who didn't read this in high school. We also read Ibsen in American Lit. What can I say?)
Goodbye, Tsugumi, Banana Yoshimoto
The Quiet American, Graham Greene
The Name of the Rose, Eco
From 57th Street:
The Pursuit of Love/Love in a Cold Climate, Nancy Mitford
Sentimental Education, Flo-bert
Dandelion Wine, Bradbury
From Unabridged Books:
Jonathan Norrell and Mr. Strange, Susanna Clarke
Nowhere Man, Hemon
So yeah, glad I got that book problem under control. Maybe I will get some of them read on the train when I'm travelling to and from Ann Arbor this weekend. Or maybe just on the way back-I have a Gaper's Block function (join in!) tonight at a bar tonight, and I'm getting on a train at 7:50 tomorrow morning. Yup, that's going to work out well. Especially since I've not yet packed. I imagine I'll be getting up at 5, and running around my apartment looking for clean underwear and my iPod charger (sadly, not necessarily in this order).
I see more concert excitement in my somewhat distant future-Andrew Bird at the LSA the weekend after Thanksgiving! I hope Kevin O'Donnell will be pitching in, but at least I'll see him at the Hideout Block Party. (Incidentally, am I seriously considering taking a half-day to ensure that I see all of the Friday portion of the block party? Yes, yes I am.)
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Since I've given up posting, here's some stuff that mentions me.
Well, if I can't get on WWTBAM, at least I helped contribute to Dee's column about the tryout.
Also, I am the orange-haired lass with the red shirt in this webcomic. No, there are no pop stars or ninjas, despite the name.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
More books, plus music
The book binge went well and was relatively small. I picked up Kitchen, as well as a Donna Hay cookbook, at Powell’s. The bit of the Powell’s trip that was totally worth it, though, was finding a book I’ve been intermittently looking for over the last four years, and finding it for five dollars. Oh, Anthony Burgess’s Nothing Like the Sun, I’ve been waiting for you. Then, met up with Susan at the Co-op, where I dissuaded her from buying Marriage of Cadmus and Harmony, since I can loan it to her. Do I now have three, count 'em, three copies of The Master and Margarita in my possession? Yes. But the Vintage translation (look at the version linked to through the title) was so noticeably better that I had to get it. I’ll have to put up example sentences at some point.
Moving on, I need to decide if I’m going to take any classes at the Old Town School this quarter. Although I have enough volunteer points for two classes right now, I'm a bit at a loss on this one for a few reasons. I'm a little loathe to take a weeknight class again right now, since I have book clubs twice a month on Mondays, pub trivia on Tuesdays, and may be taking some sort of Spanish instruction before the end of the year. However, both of the voice classes I'd like to take (Jazz Vocals and Harmony Vocals 1) meet at 6:30 on Wednesday, which means I'd have to haul tail down from Evanston to get there. I could do Guitar 1 with Jason on Sundays, but I'd have to figure out where my mom should ship my guitar, goad her to ship it, and take it to get restrung and fixed at the Different Strummer and hope that everything would be resolved by September 4th, which seems like a somewhat optimistic estimate. Plus, this would be the best time for Dan and I to take IO classes, if we're going to do that. And I might be gone several weekends in the next eight weeks. I might just wait until next quarter, or next year.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Shameful secrets
This is hard to talk about, but I feel like I need to.
Back when I was living on the South Side, I developed a little bit of an addiction. I was mostly a clean-cut kid, just trying to stay in school and get ahead, but even those with the best intentions can get swept away by chance. I thought I was just a casual user, but the stuff was so easy to get in Hyde Park. It was everywhere! I found myself hanging around the familiar haunts more and more, just hoping to score a good deal or find that magic trip I’d never taken before.
One of the better things about moving out of Hyde Park is that there just isn’t as much of a trade on the north side. Sure, there are a couple places dealing near where I live (one just around the corner, actually), but it’s not as strong, they don’t have the same sort of stuff up here. I was safe again.
Then I started going to Hyde Park for pub trivia every Tuesday. I was pretty good about going straight to the Pub most nights, but… the old places were so close! If I just got to Hyde Park a few minutes early, I could score some quality stuff. And all of a sudden, I was showing up late for pub trivia, breathless, with a package in my bag distracting me all night long.
That’s right, kids. I’m hitting the bookstores of Hyde Park again.
Powell’s, 57th Street, sometimes the Co-op, I’m looking at you. No matter how many times I go to Unabridged or Myopic or Women and Children First, nothing compares to the books you can find on that dangerous stretch of street. (Though for the overall maximum of attractiveness plus book selection: Unabridged for gay guys, Myopic for straight hipsters, and WCF for either lesbians or sincere glasses-wearing guys who want strong feminist girlfriends.)
Pretty much every surface of my apartment is covered in books right now, including the following to-reads (not a comprehensive list, only those I can think of right now):
Atwood, Cat’s Cradle
Bellow, Adventures of Augie March (terminally unfinished, but a future book club selection)
Bellow, Humboldt’s Gift (unfinished, but currently seems more likely than the above)
Borges, Collected Fictions (a re-read, but from so long ago it’s like a first read)
Bulgakov, Master and Margarita (re-read, but I recommended recently and discovered there’s a new annotated edition, because I clearly need to own three copies of one book)
Hofstatder, Gödel, Escher, Bach (partially read, re-read)
Rushdie, Satanic Verses
Rushdie, Ground Beneath Her Feet (on loan from Susan)
Sontag, In America (partially read)
And yet I have this list, crumpled up in my bag:
Yoshimoto, Kitchen (read while intoxicated, don’t remember)
Young Fem Bookclub books: Mommy Myth, Undivided Rights, Regarding the Pain of Others, Can’t Buy Me Love, Women as Lovers
GB Bookclub books: Dandelion Wine, Nowhere Man, I’m Not the New Me, Division Street: America
Denis Johnson, Fiskadoro
Findley, Famous Last Words
collections by Raymonds Chandler and Carver
More Flaubert!
Lethem?
Heavens. At least this will keep me from buying the DVDs I want. Books are better, right? Right?
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Who wants to be a $20-aire?
Today and yesterday have been very trivial, although in a potentially profitable way.
Yesterday, I ran off to scenic East Chicago, IN with Greg and Dee to try out for Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. Although I thought I utterly muffed the test, I managed to qualify for a perfunctory and unsatisfying little interview for the regular (not movie-specific) show. We shall see about making the next cut, but it doesn’t seem likely. I think my only hope is if they do the interviews purely to make sure you’re not a freak that talks like Betty Boop, and the fact that I’m a non-hideous girl-type person with interesting stories on her application will pull me through. (Also, yet again, the Polaroid they took of me is hotter than I actually am. My hair doesn't look red in the pic. I don't understand.) But again, I don’t think I’ll hear anything for weeks on this. Ah, limbo. At least I got hours of enjoyment standing or sitting in line with Greg and Dee. And a magnet.
For more immediate (though smaller-scale) gratification, I’m looking forward to tonight’s first convening of the PUB TRIVIA SUPERGROUP. Susan will get lots and lots of smart people things; Dan will get comics, Kevin will get the gay trivia I don’t get, as well as any legal stuff thrown our way; Phil will get shameful things and alcohol, and, um, I forget who the other person on Kevin’s team is, but he or she is totally going to help us out. I will get random music every third round. We will occasionally regret our lack of geographic knowledge. I might even show up by 8 tonight. A team name will be created (Black Market Subash?). Baked goods of high quality may appear. Perhaps we shall actually win money. As much as I love hanging out with the Hyde Parkers, the pirate discomfort would be more tolerable if monetary gain occurred.
Friday, July 15, 2005
My Freaks and Geeks box set now reads "To my favorite mathlete! Paul Feig".
Paul Feig is so completely the real-life embodiment of Professor Frink that I was shocked when he did not mutter the nonsense word that a Prof. Frink website tells me is spelled "gyvyvn".
Thanks to Greg and Mrs. Greg for taking me along.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
My Post-Pride Parade Party spread
I threw a party!
Bevvies:
Fresh-squeezed OJ
Margaritas (no mix, just Cointreau, Tequila, and fresh lime juice)
Rosemary Lemonade (vodka/no vodka, still/sparkling)
Vodka tonics
4 bottles of Southern Hemisphere wine: unoaked chardonnay and cabernet sauvignon from Australia, sauvignon blanc from New Zealand, and a red from South Africa
Foodies:
Crudite plate including all the regulars plus jicama
red pepper, guac, and hummus (thank you, Whole Foods deli case)
Parmesan-rosemary-walnut shortbread
Bruschetta with goat cheese and balsamic-glazed fig
Rainbow fruit with sweet yogurt dip
Cheese plate with crackers (2 ea goat, cow, and sheep)
Deconstructed sushi (seared and marinated sashimi tuna served on cakes of rice and nori)
Le Foof and I have decided to co-host the Best. Oscar Party. EVER. next year. It will be heralded througout the land, forever more. It will likely also be at my place, as my TV is better. Unless Le Foof wins the lottery and buys a flat-screen plasma.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Impotent anger storytime hour
There are anti-choice protestors lining the street next to my workplace right now. I’ve verified that we are in no way involved, that they are on city property, and no, there isn’t much we can do to make them leave, and I figure going down during my break and saying “Hey guys [and they’re almost all guys], wanna hear about the time I used to be part of a bodyguard squad for patients in Wichita that summer when you kept on threatening doctors and talking about pipe bombs?” isn’t going to fly. So instead, I will critique!
This is a personal thing, since I work here, but there are a lot of protestors lined up directly outside our sister building across the street, right in front of where there’s a big plaque reading “THE UNITED METHODIST BUILDING”. Way to make us look involved, even though most UMCers around this area are probably at least tentatively pro-choice.
I'm not sure if anyone but Tyler and Flax are going to understand this, but these protestors are lining Ridge with "graphic" photos of aborted fetuses (and, well, Jesus). Ridge Avenue is an utterly dangerous, fast-moving street on the best of days, and this isn't exactly making it any safer. Also, like I said, cars drive quite quickly on Ridge. Are they even going to see your signs? Did you not get permission to do it on a more logical street, like Chicago Ave? Because I really would have enjoyed the patrons of the Chicago Ave Whole Foods putting the beat down on you.
About those "graphic" photos--and you might want to stop reading if you're of delicate constitution or eating--but I'm sorry, the results of a first-trimester abortion do not look like a dismembered baby doll covered in marinara sauce. I know it sells better for you, and that's part of why it pisses me off, but fuck you for doing it regardless.
And back to work!
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Oh NYT, you're a little daft sometimes.
Wow, I just read the New York Times article on inter-class marriages, one part of their extended coverage of class in America. While I'm somewhat happy that the Grey Lady is actually aware that there are classes in America, I'm not sure this is the best way to spend one day of a short series on class.
First off, it's just one family, poor guy, rich woman. While they make the argument that there are more marriages in this configuration these days than rich man and poor woman, couldn't we have had an example of this type of marriage? Perhaps even a well-educated but poor woman?
Beyond my specific critiques, parts of the article just made me wince. Choice quotes:
"[S]he grew up in a comfortable home." Now, anyone who's talked to me about class knows I hate it when people use the term "comfortable", and especially the line, "I'm not rich, I'm just comfortable." Let's look at this comfort:
"My mother's father had a Rolls-Royce and a butler and a second home in Florida"; "When I was little, what I fixated on with my girlfriends was how I had more pajamas than they did. So when I'd go to birthday sleepovers, I'd always take them a pair of pajamas as a present."; "to New York City, where Ms. Woolner's mother lives in the winter"; (where does she live in the summer, you ask?) "[T]hey were at Ms. Woolner's mother's house on Martha's Vineyard."
"Mr. Croteau comes from the working class, and Ms. Woolner from money." (Apparently "Money" is now its own class.)
"Ms. Woolner began paying him a monthly stipend - he sometimes refers to it as an allowance."
"I said, 'Mom, I want you to know Cate and her family are rich,' " he recalled. "And she said, 'Well, don't hold that against her; she's probably very nice anyway.'"
"Isaac [Ms. Woolner's son from an earlier marriage], who also attended the school, is now back at Lewis & Clark College in Oregon after taking a couple of semesters away to study in India and to attend massage school while working in a deli near home."
"Isaac fantasizes about opening a brewery-cum-performance-space, traveling through South America or operating a sunset massage cruise in the Caribbean."
I think I need a brewery-cum-performance space about now.
Friday, May 13, 2005
Friday morning, 5 am
So I woke up this morning to the sound of a woman having a very good time, indeed, if you know what I mean, and I think you do. Points of particular interest:
-I was in a dream when I first heard her. I’m pretty sure, while still in the dream, I made the declaration “Wow, that woman is really enjoying her omelet.” I have no clue what this means, either.
-When I fully woke up and looked at the clock, it was 5 am in the morning. On a Friday. Who gets their sex on at 5 am in the morning on a Friday? Next-door neighbors, I salute you.
-I was reminded of a sign that had been up in our lobby a few months ago, which basically stated “To the people who were having loud sex all night last night: Please shut the hell up.” I wonder if that was them.
-Speaking of neighborly annoyance, I begin to hear loud staccato knocking on what I presume is their door. I noticed that the knocking is quite a bit louder than the sex-noise. If their apartment is set up the same as mine, it would make sense that their bedroom is the furthest room from my bedroom, so I’m getting this noise through our mutual wall, their kitchen, and their front room. Damn.
-Even so, who would be knocking? Their apartment is the last apartment before the front of the building. There is a foyer between them and their across-the-hall neighbors. Our ceilings seem thick (I don’t really hear much from the people above me). I suppose they are pretty loud, though, if I can clearly hear them.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
I’ve recently decided the best way to induce myself to work out as much as I should is to, twice a week, haul my sorry self out of bed around 5:30 in the morning, go to the gym then, and leave my bag at the gym, inducing me to have to return after work to do another workout. It’s been working pretty well this week, but I ran into a bit of a snag today.
Because my frontal lobe simply isn’t functional before 7:00 am, I’ve been packing my gym bag the night before. I was doing laundry yesterday, though, so I packed it as I was running out the door today. And I forgot to pack a regular bra.
By the time I realized this, I really had to go to work without stopping by my apartment. I had two options—born free, free as the wind blows, or nasty blue sports bra I bought on clearance in 2002. Since I have pretty severe issues with not wearing a bra (thank you, Department Store Lady who when fitting me for my first bra made gratuitous comments about National Geographic and told me I should wear a bra to bed), and because the Board’s dress code specifically mentions wearing appropriate undergarments, I opted for my old, ratty sports bra. It’s only a little nasty; at least I did weight training this morning, not cardio.
The brilliant thing about this is that even if one of my coworkers notices, they can’t exactly bring it up. “Hey, I notice your chest is a different shape than it normally is” just isn’t going to fly.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Monday at Schuba's
Angie Heaton was opening for Andrew Morgan and Kevin Tihista last night. I worked with Angie back at Parasol and hadn’t seen her in ages, plus I enjoyed the last Tihista/Morgan show I’d attended, so there was no way I was missing it last night. As I walked into Schuba’s purposefully, I managed to knock into someone, that someone being Angie. I hugged her and squealed about her cute new hair cut, then she spun me around and pointed to Michael, my old boss at the label. I talked with him for awhile, subjects ranging from “So how’s life in the big city?” to “Did you hear Bill’s not working at the label anymore?” to “So… I read you had brain surgery in your blog… how about that?”. I adore Michael, he’s just this big, gentle, sweetheart of a man, and I miss the hell out of hanging out at Parasol, so it was great to see folks. Angie introduced me to a couple of her friends, a horticulturalist and a police officer in training/former WLUW dj who live near Midway, and I was their near-constant companion during the night.
Angie played to a pretty sparse crowd, but was lovely and gentle and nervous as hell, like she always is. I got to hear lots of my favorite songs of hers, including “God Speed the Plow” and “Tattoo Blue”, and I was happy when she used the line she often uses in concert, “All my songs are about crushes, or death, or being crushed to death. I guess this is one of the latter.” Everyone in the room fell in love with her and her “funeral folk” (her brother’s term for her music), and lots of people came over to talk to her afterwards.
Once Andrew Morgan started up, we moved to the back of the room. Not to jeopardize my chances of scoring this prime location in the future, but I’ve realized that standing on the platform in front of the oven in the back of the room is a great spot. You get to see all the socializing in the back, but can still see the stage because you’re six or so inches taller than everyone else. Angie held court back there for awhile, as the police officer and I agreed that even when Andrew played his own songs instead of Moz covers, they still sounded like the could be old Smiths songs you’d never heard. A friend of Angie’s who has apparently been to every show anywhere since 1985 or so started chatting me up about improv, which I proved to know a lot about for someone who doesn’t take any classes. I’m apparently going to see his Improv Olympic 5B performance next weekend. Angie leaned over to me and whispered, “He’s hitting on you, but he has a girlfriend!”. I shrugged. “He doesn’t flirt with me.” I pointed out that maybe that’s because she’s a lesbian, though I later realized that, having hung out in the corner with three lesbians all night, I was probably not giving off the straightest vibe ever.
Kevin Tihista started playing soon, singing many of the same gorgeous, miserable, beautiful songs that I heard a couple weeks ago. At some point, I turned to Angie and said, “I don’t believe this, but I think you played the most upbeat set at this show.” She agreed this maybe the first time ever this has happened.
After the show, I chatted with Angie and Michael and some old C-U folk for a little while, and also confirmed that I had in fact brushed by Andrew Morgan on Diversey on Wednesday. Apparently his friend was convinced that I’d said “Hi” instead of “Pardon me,” making Andrew’s response of “No problem” silly enough for them all to remember who I was. We chatted about Kansas-Oklahoma jokes, the labs we’d worked in that got shut down by the NIH, and our various Hyde Park experiences. Altogether, a lovely little night, and worth the sleep-deprivation caused froggy throat I managed to get despite not smoking or drinking a thing.
