Absolute Torch & Twang

Absolute Torch and Twang, by k.d. lang and the Reclines

Released 1989 by Warner Bros.

(This is going to take me a loooooooooooong time, this listening to every album on my iTunes.)

I really like k.d. lang.  Her voice is rich and expressive.  She can growl, yee-haw and lull you into a smokey nightclub reverie.  That said, I'll have to say that I'm not a big fan of this album.  According to iTunes, it's a "consistently great album".  Yeah.  It probably is.  Rolling Stone gave it a favorable review when it was released back in 1989, as well.  But what I've decided after one full listen and another 1/2 way (it plays now, as I type) is that I'm kinda bored.  I'm not drawn into wanting to listen to it...if one or two songs popped up during a shuffle rotation, I probably wouldn't skip them, but I wouldn't put them on a playlist, either.  Except for one song, track 6, "Wallflower Waltz", which I could easily hear re-imagined by Margot Timmons on another Trinity Sessions like recording.  (High praise since I truly love that album and wish I had the new version.)  The longing trill of the mandolin is a sound that appeals to my own melancholy chords and lang's smooth lower register evokes the sad ache of a gal watching others invited to dance as she is passed by.

I can easily picture the PBS special shown during pledge drives.  k.d. lang croonin' with her easy, breezy vocals.  The mostly white, mid-40's audience in a place like Gammage Auditorium (sorry, I don't know where else to say that might be more universally recognized), sitting in their seats, politely tapping their toes or keeping time with their hand on their knee, smiling and bobbin' their heads from left to right in a nice one-two, one-two.  Some people happily singing along, because they know all the words...

If someone told me that this was one of their favorite lang albums, I wouldn't knock 'em.  It's probably a great record and I'm still going to delete it, with the exception of track 6, from the ole' iTunes.  There are at least two other albums of hers on here that I like a whole lot more and have listened to numerous times--even before I had a computer or iTunes. 

15.5 Days of Music and Counting

OK.  So I had this idea while I was getting ready this morning.  What with "summer" coming and everything--sort of unemployed and no summer classes--i wanted to give myself a project of sorts.  Now this in addition to the other projects I've already decided I'll be doing.  This one will be fun and perhaps even illuminating.  

You know how on the bottom of your iTunes library there is a number that tallies how many songs you have and how many days worth of uninterrupted music you can listen to should you so choose?  Well, every time I look at that number I think to myself "Really?  Hm.  Wonder what's on here?"  So, here's my plan.  When I get back from NYC, I am going to listen to one full album a day.  Maybe more than once.  Or maybe two albums a day.  Maybe I'll start before I go and just take a break while I'm gone, resume when I return.  I don't know.  I'll decide next week.  Anyway, I'm going to keep a little notebook next to me and just let myself go... jot down whatever comes to mind as I listen.  My very ambitious plan would be to post some daily album thoughts/reviews on the blog, but I can't promise that.  Maybe a weekly summary.  It will just depend on what I'm doing that day and how I'm feeling.  I'm sure my tiny readership is on pins and needles now, waiting to read how this will all turn out.  Ha.  We'll see... 

I'm stealing this idea from Sarah Vowell.  She kept a radio listening diary and published her pithy musings.  I entertain no such ambitions.  I just want to listen to all this music that I have, supposedly because I like it.  Who knows if I even do.  I already know that the collection on my iTunes does not reflect all the music I like or wish I owned.  My physical CDs don't, either.

There is much missing from my collection and perhaps I'll be inspired to fill in the blanks.  For that I'll have to save up some dough, because the budget is going to be tight.  Tight I tell 'ya.  (My rent just increased, beginning in July, by a LARGE dollar amount.  Welcome to "market value".  Ugh.)

I can promise no great prose or insight regarding this journey.  I make no claims on being a probing, thought provoking, uncanny observationist.  Read if you please.  Ignore if it suits you.  

Stay tuned....

I hope I'm not one of those old, white girls dancing on the dance floor..

I just got back from going dancing. Yes, DANCING. At a club. In public. It's a club that's been in Seattle, on Capitol Hill for ever. You know... for EVER. Neighbors. If you're from this neck of the woods, if you have/had been around for a while, you've probably heard of this place. I haven't been there in 9 years. I'm not kidding. I have a picture from that night. My friends, Jesse and Erin... the summer of '99. Erin is holding a butterfly shaped (and decorated) balloon over her chest because she lost her shirt. Honest to goodness. She's wearing a sports bra, but she has no shirt. It was very hot and crowded in there that night. The picture isn't very good, taken at night and w/out the fancy dancy digital settings of today's cameras. Still, I love that picture. It so perfectly captures a very clear memory of that entire night.

I was enticed out tonight by a friend who apparently goes there a lot on Thursdays. Thursdays are, just like they were way back then, '80's Night. That means, as you may or may not know, Depeche Mode, The Cure, New Order, The Go Gos, Duran Duran, Flock of Seagulls, Aztec Camera, Modern English, Billy Idol, Dead or Alive, Yaz, The Communards--your basic pop 40 of the '80's modern rock and lots of those one hit wonders. Well, I had fun and EVERY song that came on, including the Madonna that I didn't like and the not my idea of the 80's Dee-Lite song was accompanied by a completely fun, specific memory--even when it was about the boy who didn't like me when I liked him (story of my adolescence). Those of you who have read my previous entries don't need to be told how much I love to associate memories with songs.

I had a great time, despite taking a while to warm up to the idea of dancing in public when it has been sooooooooo long. I thank my pal, Kim, for nagging me to join her and her friends, tonight.

What really makes me chuckle about this whole '80's Night thing, is just how LONG it's been going on. When I was in undergrad my friend, K., and I would go to Anderson's 5th Estate in Tempe, AZ, for their '80's Night. 15 years later and it's the same. Same music. Same crowd, essentially--including the younger set who just think it's so fun to dance to those retro tunes. Granted, for much of the 1980's new wave, I was but a little kid. But I knew it existed and I loved it even then...Ahhhh... when we requested Billy Idol at the 7th grade dance and the DJ said "You guys are as cool as the High Schoolers", well, we were pretty excited. Ride your pony...

yum

We stood in line for a minimum of an hour and a half for a hot dog. Hot damn, it was good!!! By the time we sat down with our treasure, we were STARVING and the line was as long as when we started. It just never ends... hot dogs rule.

OMG

I can't believe my luck. It's like there was something watching over us, guiding us to the South Coast Plaza in Costa Mesa, CA. Something... or Someone...

You know how when you live some place that doesn't get good television reception without a cable subscription? And you know how even when you have those funny, outdated rabbit ears and you try and try to get Masterpiece Theatre, or Mystery! to come in clearly, or at the very least with a mostly watchable picture and you can't? But lo and behold do you know what station will always come in crystal clear, no matter what? Oh, yeah. You know which one I'm talking about... can we just say "hallelujah!"?

Please share with me in this moment of divine grace as I present...

That's right my loyal readers... I saw the actual, REAL life Trinity Broadcasting Network's Home... complete with...



PEARLY GATES!!!!!

I took these photos from the dentist's office next door. And next to that little office building? A housing enclave called "Lifestyles". Shawn and I wondered if they were choosing to live next to such a holy and blessed compound, or if they woke up every morning saying "G-dammit! When is this behemoth of a tax shelter going to get torched for the insurance money, already?"

Praise the lord.

Well, At Least I Can See The Sun

I'm sitting at a Starbucks in the airport in Phoenix. Sky Harbor. I'm supposed to be thinking of a discussion question to present to my class for the week's pontifications. I am having a hard time coming up with one. Sort of true. I have the idea of what I want, I just can't seem to articulate it in a competent manner. Oh. And the sun is distracting. It's warm. I'm also grumpy about my food choices for a three hour lay-over. Fried, soggy sandwiches, greasy "cheap"-only compared to the not cheap-, fried, frozen sugar, non-frozen sugar, or fried. I opted for the soggy sandwich, threw away the bread and ate the damp meat and cheese. yum. May I just say that this airport is lame? At least at Sea-tac there is a wide choice of overpriced halfway decent food. (ewwww... somebody is grouchy!) Anyway, here I am. At least it's not dark and rainy and cold.

I wonder if I'll randomly see someone that I know here? In a city of a gazillion people, plus snowbirds, I doubt that. Besides, who's to say I'd recognize someone from my past in Phx. if I did? It's been a loooooooooooong time. Joanna's the only person I've seen who still lives here, and as far as I know, she has to teach tomorrow, so I doubt she's headed out via el aeroplane.

Pretty much looks the same out there, only more developed.

I don't know why I get this nervous sense of... I don't know... it's not dread, not really... more like discomfort when I come here. Not that I come here all that often, the last time must have been five years ago. And those were actual visits. This is sitting in an airport for a few hours. But I do. Even if I have a pleasant time. Something about this state just makes me nervous and I can't quite put my finger on it. Silly, I'm sure.

Adventures on Cap. Hill

This was the scene in front of my building upon my return home from the Editors show (with Louis XIV and Hot Hot Heat). I was walking home from the bus stop on B'way and I heard lots of siren action, had the thought "gee, hope my building's not on fire" and then saw all these red flashing lights as I approached my street. There were actually more firetrucks than the those in this picture, an aid car--or two-- a fire chief's car along with a couple of police cars. I'm not really a gawker when it comes to things like this, but my goodness! Four firetrucks are sitting on the street you live on and it's kind of wild. Luckily, it seems that there wasn't any visible damage or injuries. No aid cars left with people. There definitely was a smell of something burning, maybe a kitchen fire? Anyway, seems all were safe and after about 20 minutes the flashing lights and the idling engines were gone, leaving the 'hood in peaceful midnight silence once again.

The show, by the way, was excellent. The bands were full of fantastic energy and charisma; really good performers all around, which isn't always the case. All three bands had an obvious love for what they were doing and the mutual energy between musicians and audience was palpable. If anyone who reads this blog has an opportunity to see them, especially the Editors or Hot Hot Heat, I say GO!

An Open Love Letter To Ryan Adams and The Cardinals

Dear Boys,

Wow and wow and wow. I saw your show at Seattle's Paramount theatre, last Saturday and I was not prepared for what ensued. I think I expected a similar show to the one in July, with all of you sitting in a semi-circle on the stage, handsomely outfitted in dark suits and cowboy boots. A melodic, poingent show that only served to emphasize the underlying--and darn right obvious-- sadness in so many of your songs. A quality that I love, and keeps me coming back for more. Well, the sorrow was there on January 26, but it ROCKED. And you were charming and funny and silly and, Ryan, your modesty in always referring to "we Cardinals" was not lost on me. I'm excited for your new album, too. When do we get to hear it? Neal's song was such a teaser...I want more! Thank you, boys, for never failing to reach the entire audience and playing for nearly THREE HOURS!!!! No one does that anymore. At least, not anyone I've seen in recent years. It went by so quickly...
Ryan, thank you for giving an ass-kicking performance, despite feeling under the weather. Even though I was in the first balcony, I'm thrilled that the show is immortalized in your movie. So you may not have been able to see us all up there, I know that you know that we committed to our zombies. Thank you, too, for having the inexplicable talent and heart to share such sorrow. It is a rare gift to be able to write a song that so viscerally penetrates--you write so many. I can listen to your songs over and over for hours and hours, . My heart lies bleeding on the floor and I can't get enough. I don't want to pick it up--I don't mean that in a wallowing, self-pity kind of way. Oh, and thank you for singing "Come Pick Me Up"!

Yours Truly,

Linnet

Lynksys = Bad/DLink = Good

As a Mac user, I often come across programs and websites that aren't very apple friendly. With Firefox as a web browser, thankfully, most of that frustration can be circumvented. HOWEVER, when trying to set up a wireless router... well, let me just tell you that Lynksys is the devil and I think that no one should buy stock in that company, if there is stock to be bought. Oh, sure, you can go to their website and try to figure out the mumbo jumbo tech speak that tells you how to manually set up the irritating machine; but if you are like me and really, REALLY need someone to hold your hand when it comes to this kind of thing, then the website is no help. The "technical" support is very sorry, ma'am, but unable to assist you with this problem. Please refer to our "help" pages. Help my eye.

All is well at l'bird's wireless nest, now that I've found DLink. The nice young man walked me through the entire set up process and now I'm free! I'm free! No longer saddled to the confines of my little desk. Sitting comfortably on the couch while I await my dinner date, Erin. (Noodles, anyone? I'm starving.) She can call up to my apartment without fear of a busy signal because I don't have dial up anymore!!! Wow. School rocks.

O. Except the "I have no idea what I'm doing I must be insane" feeling that I've had since yesterday. School does rock. Librarians are the best.

These Are the People in My Neighborhood

Draw your own conclusions from this... I'm only sorry that I didn't have a camera at my disposal when the window sill also displayed music box innards looking somewhat like a little bomb, tick tick ticking away our certain demise... There's another sign on the other side of the spiral tree (added to the lineup sometime in the fall) that just reads "Time Is Running Out". I walk by this everyday, just about, and have enjoyed watching its evolution. The Mary was a constant, as were the two signs. But the offerings--or examples of man's greed and destruction, as it were--come and go.

Is that fools' gold in the box? Why, I believe it is!

The curtains are always drawn, sometimes a warm yellow light peeps through the crack in the curtains behind the blinds. Who is this person? A true religious zealot or just a guy/gal with an apocalyptic sense of humor? His/her life is o so mysterioso.

wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!

The Wii is fun.

It's not that I want one for myself, but knowing someone who owns one is good. Someone who lives a lot closer to me and wouldn't mind me coming over to play from time to time would be even better. Just look at the grin on that girl's face. Doesn't she look like she's having fun?

Wouldn't trade in my xbox for one, though.

Another Saturday night and I ain't got nobody...not in Seattle, anyway. Shawn's back in the land of sun and I am back to my solo routine. Very sleepy tonight, however, and will probably hit the hay a little earlier than usual. Just sitting at Top Pot--freezing in here--and taking advantage of the wireless for a quick moment before heading back home to read my silly mystery novel or watch a movie. You know, what with school starting in a few weeks, I figure I should get in as much gluttonous reading and movie viewing as I can. Who knows when and if I'll have time to do that again for the next semester. (Ooooooo...how thrilling! I'm back in semesterville! Where time is based on the academic calendar and "next year" starts in the fall!)

Oh, blah, blah, blah. Apparently, I haven't much of interest to write. So, go forth and play a Wii, if you can. I recommend a warm up of your playing arm--the wrist, elbow, EVERYTHING--first as I heard a number of folks complain of aches and pains after playing. Not a substitute for actual exercise, I don't think...

Another One Bites the Dust

Bummer....

And even if it hasn't been officially confirmed that condos are on the way, you can bet your sweet music lovin' self that they are. I actually read some people's comments on the closure that said it's the fault of the smoking ban. Ummmm...so, you'll only see live music if you can smoke? Well, then you must really love to see live music. Sheesh.

Depressed Mods on Memory Lane

I've only had two--well, technically three, keep reading-- things stolen from me (not counting personal items gone "missing" from my bedroom...) which is pretty good, I'd say. Both instances were completely my fault due to momentary lapses in brain activity: A bicycle when I was at ASU and an even more prized possession back in the good ole' days of Jr. High. Please give a warm round of thanks to John Richards for bringing it all back this morning, as I lay in bed, not wanting to get up and knowing that I didn't even have to! (Day off for Linnet with no scheduled engagements...ahhh, sweet life.) It went something like this: Music, music, music...nice to listen to the music...hey, that sounds like Depeche Mode...it is. It's from that album I had in 8th grade that was kiped with my walkman from my backpack...
Sudden clear memory of taking the cellophane wrapping off of the tape after I purchased it. Not where I bought it, or what the day was like--most likely sunny, this was Phoenix, after all--not even what it was like to listen to the very first time I put it into a tape deck. No. Taking that thin, clear, crackling wrapper off. A whiff of plastic smell, particular to that synthetic material. The purchase of this tape was a big deal. I rarely bought music, so I must have had birthday money burning a hole in my pocket. Any other DM albums I owned had been copied for me by friends back in Salt Lake. I wouldn't discover the wonders of used records and tapes until the following year, thanks to a boyfriend and Zia Records.
This, Music for the Masses, was constantly in my walkman. (I use the word generically, I doubt I actually had the Sony version). I dared to bring it to school in my backpack--not listen to it during class, or anything, I wasn't a complete fool. I Just liked knowing I could put on my headphones while I waited for my mom to pick me up after school, listen to those heavy synthesizers and that deep, mellow voice. The feeling that I was in on something exclusive. That I was my own brand of cool, even if it didn't mesh with the rest of Palo Verde Jr. High. Listening to music that, with a couple of exceptions, none of my other jr. high pals liked was my version of surpassing the Joneses. They had better clothes, better hair, probably even had lots of tapes to listen to in their walkmans. But I had Depeche Mode. Until I set my backpack, complete with walkman and DM tape inside, beneath a bench and I left it there. Just for a minute! I swear!!
Funny, I don't have any recollection of why I set it down unattended. Was I still so naive to think that no one would take someone else's stuff from a school? We're all such good mannered kids? Why leave it under the bench, what was so immediately important? My attention called away to do...what? Giggle with some girlfriends? Say goodbye to my crush of the moment? Drink from the water fountain? When I returned to my seat, the pack was still there but unzipped. Walkman and tape gone. The tape case, however, was still inside. I remember thinking "Why couldn't they at least have left the tape? They probably don't even like Depeche Mode!" I'll bet I'd barely had it a month when that happened.

I have a sudden urge to repurchase this album.

Someone Else's Camera

I went to Eastern Washington for Thanksgiving, and someone had a camera. Someone who takes good photos and has a website. Click here to see the photos for yourself, in case you ever wanted to know what I'm talking about when I say "the farm". The guy in the black t-shirt w/ the white star is Karl, the chef. After eating amazing food for 5 days, it was a little disappointing to come home to an empty refrigerator, save for a package of Trader Joe's frozen tortellini. No sauce.

P.S. to the family: thanks for all the well wishes regarding the audition. I guess I should have mentioned that I was not cast. Oh, well....it was nice to be asked.

Why It's Dangerous to Listen to TAL Podcasts On the Bus

You may think I'm being over dramatic, or just too worried about what the outside public world thinks of me as I walk down the street and/or sit on the bus, but I have to tell you, listening to This American Life podcasts while doing one, the other or both of these activities can be an embarrassing, unwanted way of calling attention to yourself. Exponentially worse if there is anything on the episode written and read by David Sedaris and. Do I have to tell you how much of a work out I get clenching my stomach muscles so that I don't erupt into belly laughter of the deepest, sincerest variety? And if you don't know what I'm talking about, then I encourage you to visit this website and find out for yourself! In a 55 minute program, I can ride the roller coaster down the slope of out loud laughter and the slow climb up the track of openly weeping. At home, that's fine. The tears can flow and my mascara stained cheeks scare no one but me. The bus--especially a full one where you are forced to sit next to someone-- isn't exactly the most convenient venue for being ambushed by some writer's ability to pull at my insides, squeeze them until it smarts and make my eyes water because, goshdarnit!, i get what s/he is saying! How did s/he know that I'd felt that way, too? And the laughing--well, there are enough people spontaneously bursting into laughter on the buses who aren't listening to anything that anyone else would be able to hear, if you catch my drift.

Ah, but then don't listen to the podcasts when you're walking or taking the bus. Easy for you to say. A long bus ride out to Northgate is the perfect opportunity to hear an episode, makes the trip more enjoyable. They're called PODcasts for a reason, yes? To be listened to on the iPOD? Assuming that's your mode of mp3 delivery. I try listening at home, but I get distracted by things. The crossword puzzle. The dusting (ha! right. As if I actually have done that in months! Ahhh...I kill myself....)

Check out the episode called "In Dog We Trust" to see what I'm talking about...it's probably not available as a podcast anymore, but you can listen for free on TAL's website. (I think you can just put the title in the search function and find it that way....) Go forth and listen to some radio!

10pm-ish naps are not good for going to bed, later...

First of all, I have the sweetest baby (not so much a baby now) sister in the world.

Secondly, I am wide awake and have another day of work in a marathon schedule so I really should be in bed. However, I wound up taking a nap, late tonight, and was then too wide awake and wired to go to bed, so I decided to take my little book and head to my favorite little neighborhood bar to drink a little sparkling water. Just to read and observe the people and chat with my pal, the bartender, in between drink making. (He was making drinks. I was reading. Observing. Chatting.) It's nice to have this right around the corner watering hole, even though I don't really use it for the purpose for which it exists. I do, in a social context. Just being around other people is nice, especially since Shawn moved to Southern Cal. I find myself really craving something other than sitting in my apartment, alone, night after night. Sun Liquor is a cooling salve once a week, or so. Tonight I got to talk about Radiohead and their new album (freshly downloaded today) how much I LOVED the essay I read while sitting at the bar and commiserate with some other ladies about one guy who is a total jerk and I've watched/listened to as he tried to pick up girls, on more than one occasion. He uses the same lines EVERY time. It is kind of comical. Kind of. At least once you've given him the clear brush off, he leaves you alone.

But that essay...Joe Pernice writing about The Smiths' Meat is Murder, only it wasn't really about the album. It was about the experiences surrounding his discoveries of that band, and that record. It made me giddy. (That's how I felt when I first heard The Smiths. Omigosh! My mom said the same thing about their morbid, depressing sound!!) Only, he heard them when they were still a band and I only stumbled upon them after they were done and Morrissey was already recording his first solo album. But, gosh, I got that feeling back. I love writing that can take you to that place--that first kiss, first crush, heartbreak, first Smiths' song. I told Will that if I were a writer, I would want to write like that. It can happen in fiction, and it seems like the personal essay--the well written one--can have a true knack for succinctly distilling a moment that you, as the reader gets to say, "that happened to me, too!". Perhaps because I know that it's a retelling of a personal experience rather than the added element, in fiction, that even if it comes from an actual circumstance, ultimately it is part of a made up story. And I heart fiction. Truly. But a great personal essay...well, that just makes me happy.

Cross Your Fingers

Last week I had my first, since moving to Seattle, professional theatre company audition. No, really. The first one. I thought, "Wow! I'm so flattered to be asked that I don't even care if I get a call back. I just don't want to embarrass my friend who got them to call me in in the first place." Then, I read the script. And the sides. And I had the audition. And I said, "Holy crap, batman! I WANT to be in this show and I WANT to get called back." Today, I went to the call back.

I WANT this part. I have not doubt that I could do this role, and give to it fully and honestly.

It's out of my hands, I realize. It's down to looks, I imagine, type, chemistry...stuff like that. Hopefully not down to whom they've worked with before because, well, in that case, I'm a no go. I've never worked with any of them before though I know the two other women called back have. What are ya gonna do?

Of course, the true irony of this is that it should happen just as I've decided to go to graduate school and make a commitment to debt and study. Though...as I see the rehearsal/performance schedule, I believe I'd be able to swing it. Financially, I don't know and I'm going to choose not to worry about it since I haven't even been offered the part, yet, so all of this may be moot. Let us all cross our fingers, however, that Linnet is cast and DOES get to worry about it all!!!!!!

Regardless of what happens, I'm still completely thrilled that I had the opportunity to read for this company and perhaps it will lead to more invites and an eventual role.

Words, Words, Words

Against my better judgment, I actually cleaned (sort of) my apartment, today. I've been putting it off and putting it off because 1) I don't like to do it, especially since it usually has to occur on one or two of my two days off. Quelle drag. And 2) It just gets dusty again, and the stacks of library books and the New Yorkers and Vanity Fairs continue to lay one on top of the other in precarious towers. Heck, I even did laundry. A thorough job, in my own way, was done. I even cleaned out my desk and the piles of paper and what not piled up underneath and beside it. I was on fire, I tell you. In putting away letters and notes from family and friends that had been lovingly shoved into the desk, I got caught up in reading old correspondence. That, my friends, is the highway to the danger zone. Very difficult to come back from there. I could read old letters for hours, lose complete track of time and look up to find it is Friday, and time for me to go to work. What happened to Thursday?

I used to work in a cubicle, and that is where I truly discovered the wonders of e-mail. I knew it existed, but I hardly used it and felt sure it would be the downfall of human communication (I think the jury is still out on that one). Well, at my little cubicle job, I suddenly got the whole notion of sluffing off at work while appearing to be o-so-very-busy. I wrote a lot of e-mails and received a lot, too. I printed most, if not all, of these electronic communiques out. I have a large binder with all of those and, so I see today, a box of them to boot. I don't really print my e-mails anymore. I find that I rarely write lengthy ones or have lengthy ones written to me. Wonder what happened? I also think that I have convinced myself that I don't need to print them. They will always be there for me to read whenever I want to sit for some hours and meander through my past thoughts and those of my friends on my computer. Perhaps I am naive.

All that ink. All that paper.

Come to think of it, printing them at the cubicle farm was a hell of a lot easier since it wasn't my ink or my paper. Maybe that's when I stopped? When the output was costing me, personally. Ahhhhhh ha.

For Gina

I received a phone message from my sister, Gina. She left it yesterday and I only listened to it today. (Sorry, Gina. I just wasn't checking my phone...). Well, Gina has discovered this here blog (the first family member to do so...how, I wonder?) and mentioned that I have given some misinformation in a previous post. Therefore, I shall make amends by correcting this earlier misrepresentation of my dear sister. Gina, this one's for you.

In the old post, I said that she didn't like a certain genre of music. Well, though she did not, in fact, like Tears for Fears, she did like some U2, Oingo Boingo--this I can attest to, I remember she had the 12'' of "Weird Science"--and even the Thompson Twins. (Specific bands listed on her phone message.) And now, come to think of it, she also had Men at Work's Cargo way back when we lived in Idlyhoo. But she will have to admit, to me and the world that she looooooves Bon Jovi more than any of the aforementioned bands. Right, Miss Gina Lynn?

So, I would like to present a list of songs and/or bands that remind me, specifically, of my oldest sis!

Bon Jovi. (duh! She hearts Bon Jovi.) Especially the entire Slippery When Wet album, which we had to listen to umpteen MILLION times while driving to and from the dance studio. Really loudly, too.

Gina works the diner all day/
Working for her man, she brings home her pay/
For love - for love

"Sister Christian", by Night Ranger.

"We're Not Gonna Take It", Twisted Sister.

Guns 'N Roses--I think she had a crush on Slash, which I couldn't understand. I mean, how could you tell what he looked like?

Poison--I don't even know what to say about this. I still find it difficult to believe.

Brian Adams--Her phone ring--not a ring at all-- is "Summer of '69"and I laughed with nostalgic glee the first time I called her and heard it play.

Van Halen--the David Lee Roth version. Was it Eddie that she crushed on? She seemed to have a thing for guitar players. Richie Sambora might have been one of those rockers she liked, too....Gina? Can you help me out here?

Come to think of it, I recall her liking David Lee Roth's solo efforts, as well.

Def Leppard, Ratt (I might be making this one up.), Quiet Riot...that's all off of the top of my head. But you can see why I might have jumped to the conclusion that my little underground (at the time) music listening wouldn't have been much to her liking. I hope I have set the record (ha ha ha...record. get it? like those old round, flat discs with grooves on them people used to play?) straight regarding Gina and her eclectic music likes. And really, I have her to thank for introducing me to the music that made such an informative impression on my life, and continues to do so. Thanks, Gina!

Fire Jump Street With Me

In a constant effort to avoid doing the "things" I'm supposed to be doing (self-imposition), I have gone back to some of my favorite television shows from way back when. Back in the day, as some folks like to say. Let us start with that crazy David Lynch classic. It was by total accident that I even saw the pilot episode when it first aired. I was babysitting and the little rug rat had gone to bed. Sophomore year of high school and all my pals were watching that insipid teen soap opera. Poor things. I was hooked from the start. Called my then boyfriend and said you MUST watch this show. (We'd seen Blue Velvet, so we felt well-versed in Lynchism.) I don't know if he did, but I was sure thankful that I was babysitting and had control of a television. I'm sure I would have missed it if I'd been at home. The rest of the series was watched on a little black and white television (I don't even know where I got it) in my bedroom with crappy reception. It's been astonishing to actually see the show in color. On to season two, which I only saw a few episodes of due to my growing irritation with Lynch's wacky symbolism and the whole "Who killed Laura Palmer" mystery. I really could have cared less who did it by the time the show ended. Happy to report that I am anxious to borrow season two and watch the rest of the story unfold. And who couldn't love Kyle M. as Agent Cooper? I do believe it's my favorite role of his, to date. Though, I am as afraid to see the movie as I was when it came out...

The second trip meanders the path down the 7th grade memory lane and this rush home after school so as not to miss a single episode series. I was afraid this one would be VERY bad. Isn't it great to aim low, sometimes? And, with such expectations I can safely say that I don't find the show terrible. I always knew Depp would be a star...sigh... Wary that it would be a painful reminiscence, I only netflixed the first disc of season one. I'm ready for more. I think I stopped watching once I was in high school, so I guess I only made it through the first two seasons.

Side note. It is odd to use Netflix as a verb. Just like Google. Or Xerox. Proper nouns into verbs. Weird, yet part of the ever changing language lexicon.