"We would sit out in our car and listen to Ani Difranco at the top of our lungs."
And this is only tangentially related:
2.28.2007
Paper Craft and Pencil Sculpture
I'm a big fan of the creation of art with paper. It reminds me of hazy grade school days, cutting construction paper with the big plastic scissors, sniffing the glue sticks, sneaking into the library and being banned from creating a working volcano.
That's right, Sugar Creek E, don't think I've forgotten.
What I'm trying to say is that I -- like most everyone else, I would suspect -- knows how easy it is to create something with scissors and glue that will secretly disappoint your parents even as they hang it on the fridge. And that's why I'm secretly in love with Jen Stark right now.
Look at these pieces:
That there is crazy stuff. It's the sort of thing where I see it, and then think to myself: "Pah. All I'd need is some super glue and a knife." Because that's my solution to everything.
And all it would result in would be a sticky, poorly-cut mess that Sally would have trouble meeting my eye over as she leaned it against the fridge.
Then there's Jennifer Maestre. Her work bumfuzzles me. I want to love it so, but I'm vaguely disturbed by it.
Witness:
Neat, right? But not beautiful. It's almost willfully at odds with the viewer. And then you factor in the time it had to have taken to construct these and you've got to wonder at what the artist's intention was/is.
Or, maybe, like always, I'm just overthinking an interesting idea realized; the creation its own intention, Maestre's intention: creation. And these are the times when I realize that maybe I do miss my lit theory classes. Or, at least, the arguments that came with.
That's right, Sugar Creek E, don't think I've forgotten.
What I'm trying to say is that I -- like most everyone else, I would suspect -- knows how easy it is to create something with scissors and glue that will secretly disappoint your parents even as they hang it on the fridge. And that's why I'm secretly in love with Jen Stark right now.
Look at these pieces:
That there is crazy stuff. It's the sort of thing where I see it, and then think to myself: "Pah. All I'd need is some super glue and a knife." Because that's my solution to everything.
And all it would result in would be a sticky, poorly-cut mess that Sally would have trouble meeting my eye over as she leaned it against the fridge.
Then there's Jennifer Maestre. Her work bumfuzzles me. I want to love it so, but I'm vaguely disturbed by it.
Witness:
Neat, right? But not beautiful. It's almost willfully at odds with the viewer. And then you factor in the time it had to have taken to construct these and you've got to wonder at what the artist's intention was/is.
Or, maybe, like always, I'm just overthinking an interesting idea realized; the creation its own intention, Maestre's intention: creation. And these are the times when I realize that maybe I do miss my lit theory classes. Or, at least, the arguments that came with.
2.26.2007
Record shopping
My gal and I hit up the Jive Time Records store in Fremont the other day, browsing through the 99 cent LPs and occasionally hazarding a glance at the more expensively-priced upper shelves.
I limited myself to one $5 record and kept the rest under a dollar.
I thought it might be fun (for you, for me, for those who find this years from now) to take detail shots of the record sleeves and leave it up to the collective intelligence of my readership to figure out what they are. (Or, you could just click on the photo, and it'll take you to my flickr page, where I've posted the answers).
Here goes:
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
And for extra bonus points, try and guess which was the most expensive among the set. You'll be wrong.
I limited myself to one $5 record and kept the rest under a dollar.
I thought it might be fun (for you, for me, for those who find this years from now) to take detail shots of the record sleeves and leave it up to the collective intelligence of my readership to figure out what they are. (Or, you could just click on the photo, and it'll take you to my flickr page, where I've posted the answers).
Here goes:
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
And for extra bonus points, try and guess which was the most expensive among the set. You'll be wrong.
2.23.2007
The End Times are coming
It's happening. The day you've always feared.
The End Times are coming, and them right soon.
Well, not so much coming as remaining in a central location, so that you might gather about them. As far as apocalyptic prophesizing/proselytizing goes, we're pretty laid back.
The End Times, as you might remember, is the band I play lap steel in. We have scheduled our first gig. You are invited. Here are the details:
When: Saturday, March 10
Where: Private residence
Who: The End Times and The Moondoggies
Why: Because our message needs to be heard
If you'd like to attend, contact me, and I'll set you up with directions.
Photo courtesy of Kate.
The End Times are coming, and them right soon.
Well, not so much coming as remaining in a central location, so that you might gather about them. As far as apocalyptic prophesizing/proselytizing goes, we're pretty laid back.
The End Times, as you might remember, is the band I play lap steel in. We have scheduled our first gig. You are invited. Here are the details:
When: Saturday, March 10
Where: Private residence
Who: The End Times and The Moondoggies
Why: Because our message needs to be heard
If you'd like to attend, contact me, and I'll set you up with directions.
Photo courtesy of Kate.
2.14.2007
2.12.2007
Wherein we look to the past
I love old visions of the future (which, when written, were looking just far enough ahead to tell the stories of my past); there's something delightfully pure about the world-view.
They told – generally speaking, of course – of cities filled with peace, harmony, and functioning mass transit. Where wondrous vehicles ferried dapper fops to tea-times all about the city and the industrial revolution carried us all without worry of pollution or high-level collusion or the entrenchment of a social strata or the establishment of the upper upper class.
It was all happening, and it was beautiful.
Then, somehow, the future came, and it was nothing like they pictured. Ah, well. At least we can look back on how it should have been, and, if the Consortium gets it way, it still might become.
(Also, if you love this, you'll adore this (and, by extension, this).)
2.08.2007
The Roots
See more here.
The show was pretty damn excellent. I was right up on the stage. No opening act. The Roots came on exactly on schedule and did two hours straight. Then they cleared the venue and did another two hours. Their energy is laudable, incredible, and just a wee bit ridiculous.
They drew primarily from Game Theory, which isn't surprising, I suppose, but I really wanted to re-create the whole Roots! Come Alive album, shouting out "Adrenaline", looking all the world like a pasty pale-faced poseur (say that thrice, stuttering sam), but, alas, it wasn't meant to be. The first part. Not the second.
A few covers worked their way into the set. James Brown. Stevie Wonder. Bob Dylan.
I'd heard the Bob Dylan cover before (c'mon, I'm a hipster music nerd. Of course, I've heard it already. I hear everything before anyone else.) but damned if it wasn't better live. For the interested among you, click here.
All in all, a great night, a great set. Glad I've finally seen them; they truly do live up to their reputation as a great live act, in addition to being one of the most solidly experimental and danceable hip-hop acts going.
Great goddam I love the Roots.
2.04.2007
2.02.2007
Seriously?
Look, I understand. When July 21 rolls around you don’t want to be the only shut-in shut out of the Harry Potter craze. I get it. I do.
But let me let you in on a little secret: THEY WILL PRINT MORE COPIES OF THAT BOOK THAN CAN POSSIBLY BE SOLD.
You know how I know that? Because that’s what they did last time. Here’s the news of the day:
Really, I’m not entirely sure why I’m surprised. I don’t really even know why I care. But I do, dammit. I guess I just care about you, the little people.
Here’s something else that’s been chapping my hide: lately – as in the past few/five days – I keep dialing through my radio, looking for something to sing along with and invariably I end up tripping over the intro to T. Rex’s “Get it On”.
“Yes,” I whisper to myself conspiratorially. “David fucking Bowie! Ziggy Stardust himself!”
And then WHAM, Bam, thank you Ma’am, I realize that, once again, I’m listening to Marc Bolan rip off Chuck Berry, and all I want to hear is “Suffragette City”, or if we must stick with the mighty T.Rex: “Cosmic Dancer”. It’s on the same album, for goodness sakes!
Flip it to side A and play that jivey sound, Wolfman!
And if that wasn’t enough, it’s Groundhog’s Day. You know that annual celebration wherein we let a rodent predict our weather, because this is America, and, as it turns out, he’s just about as accurate as those other guys, and much, much cheaper.
I think what I find most endearing (and, I suppose, perplexing) about Phil's forecast is his strange predilection for rhymed couplets; as a lapsed poet, I can't help but love him all the more for it. Also for transcending his status as a scurrilous Sciuridae, a waffling whistlepig, and becoming one of the most beloved prognosticators of our time. Even if he only works one day a year.
I guess he's kind of like Santa that way. Without all that holiday faddle mucking up my radio and department stores.
But let me let you in on a little secret: THEY WILL PRINT MORE COPIES OF THAT BOOK THAN CAN POSSIBLY BE SOLD.
You know how I know that? Because that’s what they did last time. Here’s the news of the day:
Harry Potter conjured online magic for U.S. booksellers Amazon and Barnes & Nobles as the last Potter tale topped the charts in one day of pre-orders.
"Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" is a runaway best seller, six months before it hits store shelves July 21, CNN Money said. Both Amazon and Barnes & Nobles listed the book as their No. 1 seller Friday, based on one day of pre-sales.
Really, I’m not entirely sure why I’m surprised. I don’t really even know why I care. But I do, dammit. I guess I just care about you, the little people.
Here’s something else that’s been chapping my hide: lately – as in the past few/five days – I keep dialing through my radio, looking for something to sing along with and invariably I end up tripping over the intro to T. Rex’s “Get it On”.
“Yes,” I whisper to myself conspiratorially. “David fucking Bowie! Ziggy Stardust himself!”
And then WHAM, Bam, thank you Ma’am, I realize that, once again, I’m listening to Marc Bolan rip off Chuck Berry, and all I want to hear is “Suffragette City”, or if we must stick with the mighty T.Rex: “Cosmic Dancer”. It’s on the same album, for goodness sakes!
Flip it to side A and play that jivey sound, Wolfman!
And if that wasn’t enough, it’s Groundhog’s Day. You know that annual celebration wherein we let a rodent predict our weather, because this is America, and, as it turns out, he’s just about as accurate as those other guys, and much, much cheaper.
I think what I find most endearing (and, I suppose, perplexing) about Phil's forecast is his strange predilection for rhymed couplets; as a lapsed poet, I can't help but love him all the more for it. Also for transcending his status as a scurrilous Sciuridae, a waffling whistlepig, and becoming one of the most beloved prognosticators of our time. Even if he only works one day a year.
I guess he's kind of like Santa that way. Without all that holiday faddle mucking up my radio and department stores.
2.01.2007
Tickling your wand with a phoenix feather
Finally! The moment I'm sure you've all been waiting for (and by "you" I mean hopeless, pathetic fantasy nerds like myself); the release date for the seventh and final Harry Potter book has been announced.
After the cliffhanger of Book 6, I'm ready for the release (and inevitable letdown) of the ... Deathly Hallows? Jesus, what a "meh" R.L. Stiney type title; "Half-blood Prince" has oodles more pep and snap, sort of like a male cheerleaders' locker room, without all the unspoken homoeroticism.
But still, after years of unfairly accurate comparisons, I'll be glad to know how my fictional counterpart turns out. (Spoiler: Harry dies).
As for Harry's film representation, well, he's blinding horses. Starring in Equus, in London's swanky West End, Daniel Radcliffe is currently tackling the lead role, meaning, for those of you haven't read or seen it, that he does full frontal nudity.
I'll let your mind wrap itself around that image. Or, you could just look at this one:
Uh, yeah, speaking of blinding.
After the cliffhanger of Book 6, I'm ready for the release (and inevitable letdown) of the ... Deathly Hallows? Jesus, what a "meh" R.L. Stiney type title; "Half-blood Prince" has oodles more pep and snap, sort of like a male cheerleaders' locker room, without all the unspoken homoeroticism.
But still, after years of unfairly accurate comparisons, I'll be glad to know how my fictional counterpart turns out. (Spoiler: Harry dies).
As for Harry's film representation, well, he's blinding horses. Starring in Equus, in London's swanky West End, Daniel Radcliffe is currently tackling the lead role, meaning, for those of you haven't read or seen it, that he does full frontal nudity.
I'll let your mind wrap itself around that image. Or, you could just look at this one:
Uh, yeah, speaking of blinding.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)