For People Who Are Too Afraid To Go To ComicCon (Like Me)

This is hands down my favorite song of 2014. I love how Neko Case is positively unhinged when she sings about how girls will rule and and compares Shackleford's journey to the search for a man who knows about clitoral stimulation.


Kelly Hogan told the Chicago Tribune about the process of contributing to the lyrics. I did not care for the album 2776 (a CD copy is up for grabs). I thought the concept was too broad, the plot was rambling, and it was crude.

Music To Wrap Up The Weekend: Sallie Ford And The Sound Outside

I Love Pop Music

More Good Things In My World

My blood pressure was 122/70 at my pre-employment physical at the hospital. My pulse was 76. These are AMAZING numbers for me. Hmmm, do you think that maybe medicating my anxiety has helped? I think so! God bless you, makers of generic Zoloft!

I bought the last cherries of the season this week, and paid an exorbitant price for them. But they were so, so good--perfectly firm and black, and juicy. They were the best cherries I had all summer.

I had my annual date yesterday, with a fellow I met on public transportation who is both gainfully employed, a part-time student, and not schizophrenic or an ex-Bosnian military man. It was quite a pleasant time, and I shall do something with him again.

Lance Armstrong gave up his fight against the anti-doping charges (I have never been a Lance Armstrong fan.)

Neko Case and Carl Newman wrote a song about the black footed ferrets! "Welcome home black feet, come up from underneath, put some Al Green on the stereo! The air smells clear, you are the new pioneers of the Kansas prairie-o!"

"Quadrophenia" has been rereleased, and it is showing the first weekend of September at the ever-stylin' FilmBar. I plan to go see it; anyone else local going?

Good News!

I feel Amy Rigby's "Like Rasputin" should be my new theme song.

So, my big news is that I have work! I took an on-call position at a local hospital as a library technician; they may only need me one or two days a week but the per hour rate is good and healthcare librarianship is an area I am interested in. I also got offered a temporary position with a large national retailer opening up a new store here in Phoenix. That might be turning into something too! And I am applying for other things!

When you go to work at a hospital, you get extra benefits if you can't provide vaccination records--free MMR and D-Tap booster shots! And a TB test! That's some sort of health benefits at least.

My New Comfort Anthem

Oh hey, Kelly Hogan has an album out. And if you're in Phoenix, maybe you'd like to use my extra ticket to see her on August 13th at The Crescent Ballroom? They were only a fiver, so I bought an extra to treat a friend. "Golden" has turned into my new hopeful anthem. Kelly Hogan wrote it for Neko Case years ago before Case made it big, and it's just so filled with faith and love at her friend's greatness and potential. I listen to it on repeat and pretend Hogan is singing it to me.

Her whole album is wonderful. If I had to make a comparison, it reminds me of Dusty in Memphis. Hogan's got the same emotional phrasing, the ability to handle complex lyrical narratives, and the whole album has beautiful soul and pop touches.

Babushkas!

My day went to shit before noon, but was redeemed by my discovery that it's Eurovision 2012 week. Unlike the Olympics, this is a crazy international competitive spectacle I can get behind! And Russia is being represented by the Buranovskiye Babushki from Udmurta.



If only the giant oven behind them spit out some pumpernickel as the babas were shuffling along. Apparently the oven is referenced in the lyrics, hence its presence. Because otherwise? Wow, Russian drugs must be really good.

Looking For A Protest Song?

After an incredibly depressing and insulting winter of attacks on women's rights, I've been feeling low. Then I picked out a Loretta Lynn compilation from the country CDs this week, and listened to this rallying cry.

I had forgotten how earthy and pointed this song is. First, there's the extended chicken metaphor ("tearin' down your brooder house," "set this chicken your last time,""this chicken's done tore up her nest"). Then there's the threat of quid pro quo adultery. But what really makes you take notice is and go wow is that the song's narrator pitches the birth control pill as something that benefits both her and her husband. Controlled fertility leads to a happier marriage.

The message this song manages to get forth in under 3 minutes that is so often forgotten in today's political climate--men and women like sex, sex between men and women lead to expensive, life-sucking babies that need lots of care, and birth control benefits both men and women.

It's really clear that this winter's war on women isn't about small government, or women's health, or morality. It's about controlling women and keeping them poor and popping out babies. Handmaid's Tale is just around the corner.

And yes, I realize that I live in a fucking corrupt state with a Legislature firmly in ALEC's pocket, that has in the past few weeks 1) severely limited access to medical abortion in the name of "health,"
2) declared women as pregnant 2 weeks before conception* (I am scheming a way to use this to get $4 unlimited Mother's Day mimosas at The Vig**) and 3) cut all state funding to Planned Parenthood. Believe me, the only thing keeping me here are the kidlets at this point.

*Yeah, so I predicted this happening when the CDC released those guidelines a few years back calling for all women of childbearing age to be treated as pre-pregnant. This is just a natural extension of treating all women as if birthing is our mission and only use.

**I can't decide what's the better line--"It's 2 weeks before conception, and this is Arizona--I'm already a mother!" or "I loved my baby so much I gave her up for adoption--to Canadians, so she could always have healthcare!" (breaking down into sobs)

Molly Boyle wrote a beautiful piece in The Hairpin about how trauma caused a fixation on murder ballads.

The comments are filled with great recommendations of tunes and video, but these two escaped notice.






Confidential to Cookbook: Kristen Hersh's album of murder ballads is referenced--do you happen to have a copy of that?

God, I Love Her

I'm 41 now which is an important crossroads for an North American lady; you either shack up or go feral. I'm training to become a wolverine.---Neko Case

Music Break

Get ready for New Year's with this sultry early version of "Tainted Love."

Random Tidbits

Aces and I are trying to get Luna The Fashion Kitty to appear at Peaches' birthday party. A tricycle, a dress with goats on it and a guest kitty--don't that sound like the perfect birthday for a 2 year old? And cake, of course.

The Scottsdale escort agency is looking for a weekend manager again. I am again tempted to apply, although furthering prostitution through effective management makes me feel gross. But life experience equals material, and I feel I have little life experience, hence the vague interest in the job.

I just learned this week that the song "Whistle Bait" is a rockabilly classic, and not written by Frank Portman as I had assumed. I am so dense sometimes.



I fell for the "only at Fry's" advertisement for the SweeTango apple. They taste better at room temperature. The flavor comes out as more complex, but it's still very sweet. The name is ridiculous, though.

It's National Single And Unmarried Adults Week

WHERE'S MY FLOWER ARRANGEMENT!

Seriously, more musings on singledom later. But first, a song!

Let Me Share An Earworm

You'll thank me later. Really.

No One Knows About Persian Cats

I saw a great film this week, No One Knows About Persian Cats. It's available on Netflix streaming. This will sound incredibly corny, but it made me feel grateful for America and was very thought-provoking.

So, Negar and Askhan are indie rock musicians living in Tehran, where being a musician means dodging the neighbors who will report you to the police and soundproofing every bit of your performance space to avoid detection. Askhan has just been released from jail for playing music. They dream about leaving Tehran for a tour of Europe and emigrating, and are referred by a producer friend to Nader, a movie and music bootlegger who has underground connections for getting them fake papers to leave Iran. Nader wants them to play a concert to play one last show before they leave Tehran, and takes them to all his other musician friends to line up bands and audition others for leaving for the European tour. So cut into lots of different music video type montages is their story about the struggle of making music illicitly and anxiety about getting out of Iran.

It's just incredible to think about living in a place where women aren't allowed to sing in public, where the police will come and arrest you for being at a party where music is playing, where there's no freedom of expression and media is censored.

Here's a NPR story on the film with more details about the filmmakers. If you have Netflix, go watch it.

What Do You Do With A Teenaged Girl?

Better hope she starts a band. The Riot Grrl movement was 20 years ago. This article catches up on some of the big names of the time, and discusses what's become academic interest in the intersection of feminism, music and social protest.

What I do remember about Riot Grrl was that along with tweaking people with the kinderwhore look, the music and scene was focused on feminism, taking women seriously, and talking about things like date rape and sexual harassment and gender inequity. Which leads me to this piece by Julie Klausner, her valentine to maturity and question of why women like to behave like nonthreatening children. She thinks it's so we don't threaten the manboys, which is a viable theory. I think that adulthood and a willingness to embrace it depends on a lit of personal issues, but damn it if I don't get awed when I see women being portrayed as serious adults.

Speaking of women who walk the line between being girly and being adult, check out this excerpt of Mindy Kaling's book. It looks really good.

Busy, Busy

Holy crap, I just realized that I've had something going on every night since Friday.

So Dusie and I went to the Gainey Ranch Resort and Spa for this really great event. We had each paid $125 for this Arizona SpaGirls event--what happens is that that money goes to a good cause, and you get a party with free swag and refreshments and beauty treatments, and then you also get a spa treatment WITH gratuity included. It is really a holy cow good deal. Dusie likes to go to spas; I am more indifferent, but I love my sister and know this is the sort of sisterly thing she likes to do. Plus I got Moroccan oil hair treatments, and a small size Hope In A Jar (Philosophy is a local company) and a full-size cleansing milk and exfoliating powder. Dude! Swag! I love swag!

We are going to the spa on Friday. I am going to lay by the mineral pool after my massage and hopefully not get burnt. And In preparation I will shave my legs like a real lady and get my eyebrows done so I don't look so unkempt. It's a really pretty property.

Saturday was Scooter 202 at Vespa Chandler. Scooters are way cheap, yo. And scooter people are really nice. So there was a presentation on group riding by the place that can teach you to ride. and then we got walk-throughs on maintenance and helmet fitting and it was very educational. I sat on 2 Vespas but did not purchase one. ($650 down! Under $200 per month! But I am sensible and would save up and not finance.) Then I hung out with the baby, who I had not seen in 3! WHOLE! WEEKS! She has more hair and has mastered a cheerful "No!" that she uses but does not abuse.

Sunday was pretty quiet. Cain woke me up at 2:30 am though, and I couldn't fall back to sleep so I did my laundry and returned the car and SUFFERED the rest of the day. Dusie, my mom and I met up and went to Tempe Marketplace, and then my mom and I went to see Lyle Lovett and John Hiatt play together at the Mesa Arts Center. Yup, that's that show I was tempted by but didn't want to shell out for. She is such a nice mom. We realized that the last show my mom has apparently been to was a hellish Phish show in Massachusetts when Dusie was 15 or 16. I think she liked this a little more, but she doesn't like music really. The patter between them was pretty scripted, but Lyle Lovett's wit is so dry, a martini wishes it were Lyle Lovett.

Monday was The Lazy Arse's Book Club and it was really good. We meet again in 2 weeks to finish the book. There will be a review, because you should all read it.

Tonight I did not go to the other book club, because I got into work late and so had to work late and go to Target, and I'm tired, dang it. And I did not reread The Great Gatsby but I will go next month. But honestly, who hasn't read that book by age 21? And if you haven't, should you really consider yourself a well-educated adult?

Tra la la la la!

I Caught The Spirit, Finally!

Let's Have A Lyle Lovett Moment

For All Souls' Day and Lyle Lovett's birthday, let's read the lyrics to "Family Reserve." I tried to get a video but couldn't find one--it's an older song from his album Joshua Judges Ruth.


When I saw the ambulance
Screaming down Main Street
I didn't give it a thought
But it was my Uncle Eugene
He died on October the second 1981

And my Uncle Wilbert
They all called him Skinner
They said for his younger ways
He'd get drunk in the morning
And show me the rolls of fifties and hundreds
He kept in the glove box of his old gray Impala

And we're all gonna be here forever
So Mama don't you make such a stir
Now put down that camera
And come on and join up
The last of the family reserve

Now my second cousin
His name was Callaway
He died when he'd barely turned two
It was peanut butter and jelly that did it
The help she didn't know what to do
She just stood there and watched him turn blue

And we're all gonna be here forever
So Mama don't you make such a stir
Just put down that camera
And come on and join up
The last of the family reserve

And my friend Brian Temple
He thought he could make it
So from the third story he jumped
He missed the swimming pool
Only by inches
And everyone said he was drunk

Now there was great Uncle Julius
And Aunt Annie Mueller
And Mary and Granddaddy Paul
And there was Hanna and Ella
And Alvin and Alec
He owned his own funeral hall

And there are more I remember
And more I could mention
Than words I could write in a song
But I feel them watching
And I see them laughing
And I hear them singing along

We're all gonna be here forever
So Mama don't you make such a stir
Just put down that camera
And come on and join up
The last of the family reserve

I once saw a piece on VH-1 with him showing off the actual family graves down in Klein, TX. Lovett was talking about how he has tons more lyrics to this song he had to cut, and his struggle to put in "the help, she didn't know what to do" as opposed to "the maid" or "the girl" or whatever. Fascinating little look into songwriting.

Quick! Name That Reporter!

Having worked in a law library, I always notice how legal reporters are the generic books on shelves in the background of tv shows and movies, and that it's so unrealistic that they would be there.

Oh, and for your information I am going to the scooter club meetup next week. Not because I have one, but because I am officially thinking about it.