Wednesday, December 28, 2005

I went to the dr today

Hillbilly Junk
Gonna get higher
On that hillbilly junk
Gonna get higher
That hillybilly junk
Gonna get tired
That hillbilly junk
Hillbilly punk
On and on and on.
One, two, three
Take another pill, baby
Three, five, six,
Oh, there's whores up in them sticks
Gonna get higher
On that hillbilly junk
Gonna get higher
On that hillybilly junk
Beverly Hills
Oh, yeah!
Hillbilly junk
Take it all for yourself
Give a little back
Let people know
Where you stood
Where you stand
Gonna get higher
On that hillbilly junk
We'll get a little lighter
On that hillybilly junk
We'll get a little tired
On that hillbilly junk
We'll get a little higher
Hillbilly junk
HigherHillbilly junk
Get a little higher
Hillbilly junk

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

here comes the jackpot question in advance...

Oh lordy. I have been a lazy sack of useless shit. At least that's what I *feel* like. I have had some time off work and I haven't been writing. Bad news for me. Makes me sad-like.

Granted, since Friday I have an excuse: I tore a ligament in my ankle and it's a bloody pain. Yes, I have been using crutches, which are evil. And yes, they gave me vicodin--which, my friends, is not all it's cracked up to be. I feel DOPE SICK on it. (I think I have officially felt what Tim Armstrong was singing about.) Other than that (feeling generally out of it and cursing my crutches) I am OK. I am healing...I think.

Things of note:

*One productive thing I actually accomplished: I made mix CDs for people. This is due to the glorious fact that I have my very own beautiful, black Dell computer in my living room right now! A very joyous activity. Brings cheer to the heart, really. I have noticed that I have a really hard time NOT putting the song "Burning Up" from Madonna's first album, on pretty much every mix I have ever made. It's a sickness. It's just so great, though! It's not *that* well known and it finds young Madonna at her MOST sexual, really. How can I resist? But on another note, I think it was the first time I put Richard Hell on a well as Antony and the Johnsons (cuz I only first heard of him a few months ago).

*I saw three fantastic movies in the last week: "Brokeback Mountain"-- during which I wept like a wee babe and honestly: it is one of the finest films I have ever seen. It became an instant earner of placement in my Top 10, I do not lie. I wrote a little about it...might post it.... it so deserves many pretty words about how magnificent a film it is.Then I saw "Breakfast on Pluto," which was frenzied and confusing and depressing and crazy. I liked it...sort of. I loved what it coulda been more, I think. It ended well. It was all about this Irish sweetie-pie (Cillian Murphy is a beautiful, beautiful man, this I will say--for Elizabeth and myself) who gets all tangled up with the IRA and what-not in the 1970s. He's so pretty in the movie that when my dad saw a promo for it (just a pic) he thought he was a *she.* Which is, of course is the point. Oh, and Bryan Ferry has a cameo!! It's a creepy-deepy one, though. I warn you, it'll give you the willies. Fitting, though, eh?

*Saw KONG, baby!

It was fucking GREAT. It deserves ALL the hype. I said it. It does.

The first hour was slightly questionable, but mostly enjoyable. Naomi Watts is so, so... WONDERFUL. She is just at another level of powerhouse acting. You get the feeling she would do anything for a scene to work. "Mulholland Drive" proved that theory, I'd say. This time she had to act all by her lonesome...against a green screen. As maybe sad and too modern as that might sound, it's needed to make Kong so incredibly realistic looking... and you know she knows that. You fall in love with her instantly and she is the one that makes the love story between her and Kong so believable and touching. Well, that and the marvelous technology employed by Peter Jackson. And...lest we forget the talents of Andy Sirkus. Those expressions, those eyes!! Yes, I cried. I cried when Ann finally finds him in the Manhattan street. AND I cried before that, actually. The sunset scene on Skull Island is...breathtaking. Just wish those kids could made it work...

*Saw a doc on Vincent Van Gogh with my pops and it was incredibly moving and well done. Wotta glorious fuck up. Things I did not really know: he died in his bro's arms (who was immensely important throughout his life--emotional and financial support for his art, etc.) from a self-inflicted gun shot wound. He drank turpentine and ate paint. Yep. He cut his ear off because Paul Gauguin was staying with him and left him. This made him fly into a rage and he did it, and then took it to a brothel. Wha–? So, no it wasn't for the sake unrequited love from a women (although there was *plenty* of that in his life) it was because he was totally fucked up and he didn't want to be alone. Maybe I'd be that crazy too if I had produced over 700 works of art and starved and ate paint and moved all around Europe before one was finally purchased for 400 francs. Whew. I want more, of course. There's this film with Tim Roth (who I really, really like "Gar§on, coffee!!") called "Vincent and Theo" and I put it on my Netflix queue. It's directed by Robert Altman, so that's promising...

* Two of my favortie writers a way. A.O. Scott reviews "Match Point," Woody Allen's latest and says it is: "his most satisfying film in more than a decade, the director once again brings the bad news, delivering it with a light, sure touch. This is a Champagne cocktail laced with strychnine." Oh, and the review's title refs the Clash. WTF? too perfect.

*Jim's Blog, people.
Wotta bloke. I love this guy. He keeps promoting me, so I thought it only fair... (on his latest post look for the bit about The Darkness. I keep coming back to how great they are and their second album has to be my guilty pleasure of the year.) Jim is officially the only person that I can really call a mentor... he is a HUGE reason I keep on writing. He is also part of the reason I got the bug in the first place, I think. He can be Mr. Heart-On-His-Sleeve, but he is so much more. A true, true lover of (and maker of) music and an incredibly, naturally gifted writer, he keeps plugging away and it stays fresh.

Thanks, Jim. For everything.

Happy New Year, everyone!!!!
Party at my house on Saturday night!! (I'm completely serious.)

PS Look for my Best Pop (culture) of 2005 coming soon....I had a request! Honest!

Thursday, December 15, 2005

"if THERE was a wayyyayyay"

Darlene Love, baby. That's all I need to make x-mas really x-mas. If I hear that powerhouse voice belt "Baby please come home," I'm good for the whole year. Everything about this 2 minute and 47 second record is perfect: the way it starts, jumping right into the chorus; the sublime sax solo-- the basis of virtually (I might be exaggerating) E Street Band sax solo; the way she reaches every high note; the dramatic piano pounding bit at the end-- all of it completely gives me goosebumps everytime I hear it.

My dad and I are soooo not religious or "into" Christmas in any way, but the ONE tradition we hold dear is watching Ms Darlene Love on Letterman every year. {This year's appearance will be on the Late Show Friday, December 23rd. WATCH IT.}

Love is one of the great, fucked over, unsung heroines that worked under the great, fucked up, brilliant asshole, Phil Spector. If you're unfamiliar with her name--I guarantee you know her voice and the wonderful songs she stamped with her signature sound. The list includes: "He's A Rebel," (one of MY all-time favorite songs, hands down!), "(He's Sure) The Boy I'm Going To Marry," "Da Doo Ron Ron," and tons more.

This all came to me, cuz, duh--yeah, it's December and Paul emailed me something Kate Sullivan (one of my all-time favorite writers, she's a music columnist at the L.A. Weekly) wrote a little piece, "Christmas Music for People Who Like Music" (her column can be found at:

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

when I grow up...

Ever since junior high, my dream was to be a writer. Of some ilk. I always *have* been a writer--I have been keeping a journal since I was 8 years old. If I don't write, I get depressed. It's inevitable. Lois Lane woulda been a good gig--I went to j-school, so it was always a possible career path. But the formulaic b.s. of newswriting always scared/pissed me off (my prof for news writing and reporting literally said, "you'll be putting your creativity on the back burner in here." Despite all that, I dug the class (the prof was one of the greatest I had in my college career--she was a goddamn stringer for the New York Times, baby). I did well, but knew it wasn't really for me.

I do love the news, though. I love reading the New York Times and would fantasize about being a hard-news-dame (like Lois or Maureen). But, arts writing is my ultimate love. It always will be. I still love short, pithy, clean sentences. I hate long, flowery drivel. Alas, what separates the English major from the J-school major.

So, when I came upon this little slice of heaven, it reminded me of my childhood dream (and current dream, actually): to just be a staff writer for E.W. (actually, to amend that, my true dream would have to be a staff writer for Q, Mojo, or NME-- let's be honest...)

In the descriptive listings for "What to Watch" in their t.v. section:

Arrested Development [a critical darling, that I never got into, that has been a victim of shit ratings] (Fox, TV-14-DL) HEIDI KLUM AND 15 OTHER SUPERMODELS COMPLETELY NAKED!! *program subject to change

How fucking great is *that*?

Thursday, December 08, 2005

What do Les Paul, Kanye West, Green Day, Martin Scorcese, and the White Stripes have in common?

They're all nominated for those lovable fuddie-duddies: The Grammys!

Nominations were announced today and as always (or, actually just in recent years) there were some major surprises—at least to me.

Among them: Bruce Springsteen snagged five noms!! Song of The Year, Best Solo Rock Vocal Performance, Best Rock Song, Best Contemporary Folk Album (huh?), all for “Devils and Dust,” which just kind of blows my mind. It’s a wonderful, dark and literary piece of work about the war (and distrusting the Bush Ass-ministration, *natch*), failure, family, and…just a little bit of Jesus. I'm not surprised that a white, male, older, very established artist (that I will always adore) is a Grammy darling; it was just strange to see this one get the spotlight. His fifth nom was in the long form music video category--look at this motley bunch (heavy hitters)!!!!

Best Long Form Music Video
• No Direction Home; Bob Dylan, Martin Scorcese
• Trapped In The Closet (Chapters 1-5 );R. Kelly [hahahhahhahahahhahaha. eeeeeeesh]
• End Of The Century: The Story Of The Ramones
• Devils & Dust; Bruce Springsteen
• Brian Wilson Presents Smile

Some other great surprises include the record of the year category—just a really diverse and worthy of praise bunch (all but Mariah Carey, who I just want to disappear):“We Belong Together” (Mariah Carey); Feel Good Inc.”(Gorillaz Featuring De La Soul); “Boulevard Of Broken Dreams”; (Green Day); I wish it were “What You Waiting For”….but it’s: “Hollaback Girl” (Gwen Stefani) and someone who I am fascinated by and just starting to hear more of…“Gold Digger” (Kanye West).

Neil Young was nominated for best Rock Album for "Prairie Wind" (along with U2, Foo Fighters, CLoplay [barf. rock? are you kidding?], and the goddamn Rolling Stones [now that's just cool].

"The White Stripes got a nom for Best Alternative Music Album for "Get Behind Me Satan," as well as Best Pop Performance By A Duo Or Group With Vocal for "My Doorbell." The competition for the Best Alternative Album is pretty sweet: "Funeral," The Arcade Fire; "Guero," Beck; "Plans," Death Cab For Cutie; "You Could Have It So Much Better,” Franz Ferdinand--HELL YES!!!

The Grammys still hold the power to surprise you and be random and great...showing that those ol' coots just might kind of have their finger on the pulse of what's actually going on...

The 48th Annual Grammy Awards will be held on Wednesday, Feb. 8, 2006, at the Staples Center in L.A., and on the telly on CBS. Full list of noms is at:

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

hate and war/ death or glory

Paul fucking Simonon, man. Shoulda been the biggest heartthrob that ever was. Is to me and Elizabeth, though.


Death or Glory


Every cheap hood strikes a bargain with the world
And ends up making payments on a sofa or a girl
Love 'n' hate tattooed across the knuckles of his hands
The hands that slap his kids around 'cause they don't understand
How death or glory becomes just another story
How death or glory becomes just another story
'N' every gimmick hungry yob digging gold from rock 'n' roll
Grabs the mike to tell us he'll die before he's sold
But I believe in this-and it's been tested by research
That he who fucks nun will later join the church
From every dingy basement on every dingy street
I hear every dragging handclap over every dragging beat
That's just the beat of time-the beat that must go on
If you been trying for years-then we already heard your song

Monday, December 05, 2005

A nice break from all this war and death or “Always walk up to the shrimp bowl like you own it”

Maureen Dowd: Her book (“Are Men Necessary?”) and her tv interviews/appearances are looming large in my life right now. The simple fact that she’s bringing feminist thought and theory back into the mainstream (her version of it; no matter how it will be received).

Her best appearances have been with Tim Russert and Charlie Rose (sigh). Normally petrified of appearing on TV, she's at ease with both of these wonderful interviewers and has an obvious history with both of them. And let's give Mr. Rose some major credit for being simultaneously casual & flirtatious (they told each other they were the perfect catch, and implied they should stop the interview to er--"go away" together) extremely aggressive, smart journalist (trying to get the dirt on the Times, Judy Miller, Bush 41 and WMD. whew!)

When she was with Russert, she mentions how they were contemporaries and friends in the early 70s, when they were in their twenties. (She even throws in the fact that he dated several of her friends, and they all said, “how nice you were, Tim.”hahahahha) She calls this time period the “White Heat of the sexual revolution,” and describes how much women thought they were on the road to a sort of utopia of gender equality (where women could accomplish anything they wanted professionally and academically and men would be attracted to powerful, smart, successful women). She then asks Tim if he thought the same thing. He says, “As women became more accomplished, etc. there was a sense that they would become more like men.”

And that, Dowd explains, was the mistake we made. “Women thought they had to ape men in every way. In dress, they way they work, even in orgasms. And that turned out to be not tenable. We then had to start all over; re-shape our world with *our* needs and desires.” She talks about (more in depth in her book) how evolutionary biologists keep coming up with evidence that men and women are less alike than any of us ever thought.

YES. Men and women are different! But WHEN are we going to stop with all of the fucking love songs. ALL the emphasis on dating, mating-for-life, marriage, etc. Can we ever move BEYOND it? Why, for example, was there a scroll below the televised head of Maureen Dowd that said “Maureen Dowd is 53 years old and has never been married?” Are you fucking kidding me? (OK, sure that’s kinda funny. It made me think of “Careful girls, he’s married,” for John on Ed Sullivan)

The Clash, the Clash, the Clash. That is what I will always come back to. They did it. They are one of the most important rock bands ever and they refrained from love songs. They were not love sick. They were sick of what was going wrong in the world. Sure, they probably cared about their insular world more than anything else, but they wrote songs that served as biting commentary and they critiqued the hypocrisy and fukedupbullshit in the world. I’m not saying down with love, or down with sex (gawd forbid!!) As a woman, I want fewer songs about boys, less magazine advice, less obsession with weight and appearance. Less, less, less.

This is what Maureen comes to when she talks about the 180 degree reaction that women of my generation have spun in. They don’t give a shit about who is being placed on Supreme Court or what impact it has on their freedoms. They give a great deal of thought, however, on 507 ways to “please your man” when they’re reading Cosmo at the gym. She talks about the horrendously “retro” techniques that women use; citing how women now want their sexuality assessed by the guy’s willingness to pay for dinner.”

When she talks about the old feminism (second wave of the 60s and 70s) she says she just didn’t fit in. She didn’t dig “grey turtlenecks and unisex jeans,” and considers herself a fan of “heels and makeup.” But, now, she says, we’ve gone much too far in the other direction. One of the best bits, talking about the Gloria Steinem quote: “All women are bunnies,” she says, “That was an insult! Not something to aspire to!” How so many women want the same plastic tits and lips and the same Maxim body. [and, yes, the picture above is of Debbie Harry when she was a...BUNNY.]

Maureen said it: “American narcissism has trumped American feminism.” BLECH. SO true and so pathetic.

PS (aka To brag in the music head way): Because Dan fed my iPod with 148 songs (or so) of “iPod food” He brought me up to 7 days worth of music. That’s 2,735 songs. And I’m not even close to being all filled up on that thing. Good lord I love that material object like a baby, my car, a man.