Gnomes, Tulips, and a Lawnmower

Short and sweet. This is pretty much my ideal afternoon; placing four gnomes in a garden, messing with a scarecrow, casually riding around on a lawnmower, and calling it a day.

Just Kids

 I've always loved Patti Smith; she's one of those people who doesn't seem to have compromised much, with amazing results. I finally read Just Kids, her memoir about her early life with the artist Robert Mapplethorpe. She was/is tough, brave, and smart, and it was a great read. They basically hung out together, were totally committed to creativity, and lived on a budget of absolutely nothing. My favorite tidbit: Smith got a plum job working in the rare books section of a bookstore and used her knowledge of antique books to feed herself and Mapplethorpe during extra lean times.

After reading this book, it's clear that I have no idea what it is to truly sacrifice for art. I know it isn't the sixties anymore, but the atmosphere's different. However, I do know that the crazy friends you make in your early 20's can last a lifetime and continue to inspire, and all that time spent just hanging out is special, even when you're not a famous punk poet.

Psychedelic Sunday

This song isn't particularly psychedelic, but my response to it was when I heard it while shopping for jewelry supplies in a Beverly's yesterday. This is not a song you expect to hear in a store. I present for your listening "pleasure," Winchester Cathedral by The New Vaudeville Band. It's a real treat for the senses.

Psychedelic Sunday

This song is the flavor of the day. "California" by Robert Charlebois from 1966.

Sound and Vision

I'm not great at commitment, but I'll say that this is probably my favorite song. It doesn't have a real video, which is kind of better, because it is perfect as is.

A First

Nino Ferrer sings one of my favorite songs, Les Cornichons. It's kooky and insanely danceable, but not as kooky as this video for Oh! He! Hein! Bon!, which seems to have a loose plot revolving around putting a parade float together. Yeah, that's right. Embrace it!

Music?

Because I am cheap, lazy, and don't know what's good in my old age, I only buy about one album a year. It's usually with the BooBoo Records gift card given to me by Santa, and this year was no exception. I heard about Jim Sullivan on NPR news, which has sadly replaced music in my radio life for some reason. His story is incredible, but the music is really what caught me off guard. Watch this video and prepare for the aftermath of a blown mind.

Like a G6

My friend went to see Usher the other night. I've never committed to calling myself a huge hip-hop fan, but I always know the hits , and there is some seriously great stuff out there. I've always really liked Usher, in all his various incarnations over the years, and I was reminded of this video, which has it all as far as I'm concerned. Dance fighting? Check. Bounce house? You bet. Clockwork Orange-style makeup? Indeed. Man, 1997 was such a solid year for hip hop! I know this because when I attended my high school reunion in 2007, they were nice enough to compile a CD of some of the top songs from the year we graduated. I swear, it's the best CD I have!



In other news, I'm pretty obsessed with this song by Far East Movement right now too. The video's nothing to write home about, but if I graduated from high school this year, I think this would totally make it onto the CD.

WHAT?!

I have a lot of expectations from Santa, but this is not one of them.

From Etsy seller IDConnection. Dang. Oh man; I just read the note, too! "Mom has died and gone away, Daddy seems so sad most every evening?!" I know I've vowed to stop collecting things that just sit in boxes, but this may be a must-have.

(Please note that I wasn't looking at Christmas stuff on purpose, I swear. It just happened.)

Remote-control cars: new hipster pastime? These people are remarkably blase about it, much like my brother always was after the inital thrill had worn off on Christmas morning.

BORING!

I've been a bit remiss in sharing my holiday joy this year; but don't fret. I still have some magic up my sleeve for you. Let me begin with this. When I drove home from my parents' house after Thanksgiving, I listened to Christmas music on the radio almost the whole way, except for the patches where I could only get Art Bell or Spanish-language talk radio. I was enjoying the usual jingle jams, and then I heard something that confused me big time.

It was beloved opera star Andrea Bocelli, singing a slow-ass version of Jingle Bells. Like, really slow. "Jeeeengeeeel beeeells, geeeenegelle beelles, jeeeengelle all ze waaaaaay..." I thought, "is this a joke? No one sings 'Jingle Bells' as a romantic ballad." But there he was, drawing out each syllable in his lovely Italian accent. Simply put, It was AWFUL! Then, to confuse me even more, the MUPPETS started singing along with the chorus! But it was still totally subdued and serious. What a miserable incongruous pairing! Why did John Denver have to die? My brain exploded, and I was forced to refocus on theharrowing task of driving.

Fast forward to tonight, when I was hunting down humorous holiday videos for you all. I found this, which is actually very, very charming and sweet, and explains a lot. Why did they take all the good stuff out of the radio edit? Fools.

Brevity...

Take 3:45 minutes and listen to one of my favorite songs.

It always does me good, and I dare say it will do the same for you. "Cucurucuru Paloma," by Caetano Veloso, from the 2002 Almodovar film Talk to Her.

Put the Lotion in the Basket...

I've been off having adventures, sleeping, and acclimating to my new job, which is located in San Francisco's most prominent open-air shopping center and office park. It's a weird environment; everywhere I go, there's something to buy! Shoes, coffee, lotion, chocolates, clothes, spatulas...it's all there, and it's all in my face. I'm considering not bringing any money to work so I don't have to deal with the temptation any more. I realized, though, that I'll never need to buy hand lotion again if I rotate using samples at the five beauty stores within a one-block radius. Sweet Jesus!

The best thing about working in a mall is the music piped in from the sky. Usually it's some pleasant piano, but this week they started playing "spooky music" for Halloween. It's a pretty creative mix; instead of just "Monster Mash" over and over again, they're really stretching it. On my break, I heard ELO's "Evil Woman," and as I left work, I heard one of my super-favorite jams, "Season of the Witch" by Donovan. It's a weirdly sexy song that's been rightly covered by tons of bands, and I present it to you now accompanied by a witchy scene from George Romero's film of the same name.

Hardly Strictly Something

We're not so good at Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, SF's yearly free festival of various musics. Oh, we go every year with big plans to stay all weekend and see all the best bands, but between bad timing, huge crowds, public transportation drama, and general social discomfort, we usually end seeing half a band and hitting the road.

Which isn't necessarily a bad thing. Today we watched Aimee Mann's set, which was pleasant enough from hundreds of feet away, ate some salami sandwiches, split a beer, and got hit repeatedly by a Frisbee-throwing toddler. Instead of sticking around to see Neko Case, we walked through Golden Gate Park to the beach.

It was windy. There were jellyfish. It was beautiful. Then we walked back up to catch the N-Judah. On the way there, we found this.

That's right, an abandoned dollhouse. I'm sorry, but I would rather encounter a filthy ramshackle doll mansion than see a rock show. And that's what makes me special. Very special.

The Dirty Post--NSFW, NSFMM (not safe for work or my mom)

More from last month's trip to the Northwest: I came across this enchanting display of vintage dirty books at Portland's best "alternative" bookstore, Counter Media. The owner let me take some pictures of my favorites.

These books are merely an intro to the most hilarious internet offering in a while. This video combines two of my favorite things: the Muppets and filthy music. Here's Miss Piggy singing a Peaches classic. You will be amazed.

God Gave Rock and Roll To You...

The couch I watched all my vacation movies from.

Whenever I visit Portland, I stay with my beloved friend Derek, who lives in the same building I used to live in. It's a little bit like going back in time, to return to the exact same building where I spent my formative years making all the strange choices one makes in their early 20's, but I love staying somewhere familiar and cozy. Not to mention that Derek's apartment is impeccably decorated with a film memorabilia collection that demands its very own future post.

Derek also has the amazing skill of curating an evening at home with absolutely appropriate drinks and films that you'd never end up watching otherwise, and blowing out your mind with their awesomeness, no matter how avant-garde. On my last trip, I was introduced to the super-trippy short films of Kenneth Anger, and the beautiful underwater cinematography of Jean Painleve. The Criterion Collection recently put out an amazing collection of his works, including a big chunk of films re-scored by Yo La Tengo called "Science is Fiction." Beautiful! Here's a sampler.


Also, I guess when you search "Jean Painleve octopus" on YouTube, the following video comes up as well. A magical non-sequitur to take you into whatever today has to offer you! Enjoy.

The Origin of Love

By Special Request...My "Tribute" to MJ

I grew up less than an hour away from Neverland Ranch. Whenever anyone saw a stretch limo in the area, we always assumed, "Oh, Michael Jackson," and craned our necks for a peek of the white glove. One of my friends even saw him once, shopping at the Toys 'r Us in Santa Maria.

What I'm trying to say is that Michael Jackson was always there, on tv, on the radio, and in our general kid consciousness. If you're my age, your best memories of him were of his early 80's persona, when you were still too scared to watch Thriller. I remember hearing "Billie Jean" when I was four or five and getting kind of spooked by it; I think I found the synth riff haunting; it made me feel sad. (I also got spooked by the song "Maneater," and any song with a robot-sounding voice. That's the kind of kid I was.)

I don't feel personally sad about his death, because the version of Michael Jackson my inner child remembers has been gone for years and years. But I feel sad about a lot of other things. How does a person get to that point? To live the way he did meant that he had no real friends, no one to say, "Hey. What are you doing? We're concerned about you," but merely an army of yes men willing to prescribe any drug, to keep weird sexual secrets, and who knows what else. Such an odd, dark path doesn't happen without the consent of many outside parties. Also, there's us, the public who loved to watch as his life became increasingly bizarre. "Did you hear what Michael Jackson just did? What a freak!" People love to watch a downward spiral.

It seems like if you magically got whatever you wanted, that things would turn out pretty good.

But if what you want is your lost childhood, you end up with a monkey, a lonely amusement park, and slumber parties that weren't quite right. It's an incredible story, really, and that's what I can't stop thinking about. Not Michael Jackson the person, because we'll never truly know about that, but the fact that his crazy, sad, fascinating story is over. MJ never stopped trying to find whatever it was he was looking for, we never stopped watching him, and that, my friends, is "human nature."

I have a problem with listening to new music. I don't download songs, I don't buy cds; it's been so long that I've forgotten it's even an option to procure new music for myself. Like with books, I'm weirdly content to listen to the same things over and over again. That said, Derek gave me a cd three summers ago that included two albums by Lee Hazlewood, Love and Other Crimes and Cowboy in Sweden. You may know Lee from his collaborations with Nancy Sinatra, but a dose of pure Lee can really hit the spot.

Cowboy in Sweden has been my car album for the past few weeks, and when Peter and I got stuck in traffic on the Bay Bridge, I put it on. Peter, always the skeptic, said, "Oh, you're just listening to this because it's kitschy," to which I responded, "NO! I'm listening to it because it's GOOD! How dare you." And after a few songs, he too was convinced that good ol' Barton Lee is a little kitschy, but also actually, truly awesome, no irony involved (take that, Chuck Klosterman!).

Here's the video for "No Train to Stockholm" from Cowboy in Sweden, which was not only a sweet album but also a TV special. It features Lee without his signature moustache, but don't worry; it's still a great song with a late-Elvis vibe.

Super Tangential!

Does anyone know how to nap correctly? I've come to the conclusion that napping is no longer an option for me, as I just continue to sleep. Sigh. Reminds me of the character in True Stories, "The Laziest Woman in the World." Alas, I can't find any good videos of her scenes, and honestly, the non-music parts of True Stories are kind of a slog anyway if you're not 14 years old and just learning about philosophy. (Oh shit, am I starting to sound like Chuck Klosterman? Help! Say it ain't so.)

So I found this video of Talking Heads singing "Psycho Killer" on some show called "The Old Grey Whistle Test." And I'm certainly glad I did, because LOOK AT TINA WEYMOUTH'S HAIR. It is the cutest thing I've ever seen. Someone should create a Blythe wig called "the Tina." Then I found another video, and her hair looks great in a totally different way. I suggest you spend some time researching as I did, and you will undoubtedly find that Tina Weymouth has excellent hair at all times. AAAANYWAY, enjoy.