I awoke on my birthday to find vanilla shortbread cookies in the shapes of owls and cats and a birthday card from my girlfriend's mom that included a Starbucks gift card and was signed "Mom Karen." I also received an offer from one of my best friends in North Carolina to send me a copy of all the episodes of one of my favorite (short-lived) British shows and I received a ton of birthday wishes from people on Facebook. Kathy had given me my birthday present from her a few months early, but nevertheless, she still got us tickets to the Cathy Richardson show at Martyrs' last night. Everything counted, I felt like a pretty special girlie yesterday.
So last night, we went to the Cathy Richardson concert. If you've never heard of her, you should. She's one of those artists that sort of defy categorization now that I think about it. The first time I saw her was when she was touring with Janis Joplin's former band, Big Brother & The Holding Company, and singing all Joplin songs. That was at Northhalsted Market Days a couple of years ago, and she was terrific. We ended up staying and watching her whole show. Though I said she defies genre, I'll try and describe her anyway. She plays songs that toe the line between a blues-rock/folk-rock sound and she sometimes sounds a little like Joan Osborne and even, just occasionally, Melissa Etheridge. Kathy likened her to singer/songwriter Kim Richey. I tend to love bluesy chick singers, though last night, her music seemed much more "rock" and less "blues rock" – but that was great, too. She's very energetic on stage and she interacts with the audience a lot, showing of her charisma. Here's a snippet of video from the show:
I think women pull off the "blues rock" sound much better than men do, honestly. Give me your Joan Osbornes, Joss Stones and Cathy Richardsons any day over fucking Blues Traveler (actually, whenever I hear Blues Traveler, I am reminded of this scene in "Ghost World" – a movie I adore).
All that said, I still prefer real, actual blues to "blues rock" stuff, without a doubt. I think even in that genre, I lean toward the female artists (though there are notable exceptions, of course: I have always loved Robert Johnson and more recently have been listening to a lot of Skip James and Jimmy Rogers on my mp3 player at work). I want my Bessie Smiths and my Big Mama Thorntons, which reminds me: the Elvis Presley version of "Hounddog" is just bone-dry and sucked pale next to her version. Take a look.
Anyway, I had a great birthday and now I'm in the mood to rock out to some twangy guitars.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Thursday, April 22, 2010
.the empty page.
When I began my two blogs, I had this idea that I'd write something for the public everyday. Faithfully. I had projects lined up for myself. I had PLANS!
Alas, life happens while you are busy making plans – or so said John Lennon. I think I quote that often because it's so true. Here I am again, falling behind on writing. Why is it that I have such a hard time getting myself to do this thing that I really love so much?
I know that it's not uncommon. Among my most brilliant writer friends, I know one especially insightful poet who says it's been seven years since she put pen to paper and another friend who still hasn't finished the novel he has been working on for about five or six years.
Then there are those others. My often published peers who always have something new completed, are always linking their latest piece on Facebook; it seems, though it's probably not the case, as if they never experience block. Or, worse than block, the feeling that if they sit down to write before the bed is made, the dishes are washed, the litter box is cleaned, the dogs and cats and children are fed, then they are being selfish, narcissistic brats. If it is true that they never feel the guilt or like their brains are running on empty, then good for them. Must be nice.
As for me, I experience block, writer's guilt, fear, difficulty sitting down and concentrating. And of course, there's the little voice at the back of my mind chanting that maybe it's just that they are all good and me? I'm not.
But that's not true of my friends who are lapsed writers (heh, that makes it sound like writing is some kind of religion we are struggling with, like one where we all worship at the altar of Chaucer and sacrifice animals to Whitman) and it's probably not completely true of me. I am semi-convinced. It does help when I meet new people who praise the work I do manage to get done – like the people in a little writing group I just joined. It also helps to be held somewhat accountable for getting the work done by those people – though they would probably be understanding if I had nothing to show, I would feel even more guilty if I didn't. Which is why I am already working on the next three chapters of my third novel. My third unpublished novel, but nevertheless, it's still progress.
Today is the eve of my 33rd birthday and every year around this time, I start thinking about what I haven't accomplished, yet. Then I get panicked and worry that I will always just be a dreamer. Where I am at in my “writing life” is not where I want to be, no. But I thought this year, I could confront that fact, then contemplate ways to move forward. I guess I've already started by joining a group and getting the work done...very slowly. I'm starting to think there is something to be said for being a late-bloomer and maybe, just maybe, letting my anxieties about being off-track overwhelm me is actually holding me back. Being a late-bloomer has always worked for me in so many other areas of my life, so why not in this one?
Alas, life happens while you are busy making plans – or so said John Lennon. I think I quote that often because it's so true. Here I am again, falling behind on writing. Why is it that I have such a hard time getting myself to do this thing that I really love so much?
I know that it's not uncommon. Among my most brilliant writer friends, I know one especially insightful poet who says it's been seven years since she put pen to paper and another friend who still hasn't finished the novel he has been working on for about five or six years.
Then there are those others. My often published peers who always have something new completed, are always linking their latest piece on Facebook; it seems, though it's probably not the case, as if they never experience block. Or, worse than block, the feeling that if they sit down to write before the bed is made, the dishes are washed, the litter box is cleaned, the dogs and cats and children are fed, then they are being selfish, narcissistic brats. If it is true that they never feel the guilt or like their brains are running on empty, then good for them. Must be nice.
As for me, I experience block, writer's guilt, fear, difficulty sitting down and concentrating. And of course, there's the little voice at the back of my mind chanting that maybe it's just that they are all good and me? I'm not.
But that's not true of my friends who are lapsed writers (heh, that makes it sound like writing is some kind of religion we are struggling with, like one where we all worship at the altar of Chaucer and sacrifice animals to Whitman) and it's probably not completely true of me. I am semi-convinced. It does help when I meet new people who praise the work I do manage to get done – like the people in a little writing group I just joined. It also helps to be held somewhat accountable for getting the work done by those people – though they would probably be understanding if I had nothing to show, I would feel even more guilty if I didn't. Which is why I am already working on the next three chapters of my third novel. My third unpublished novel, but nevertheless, it's still progress.
Today is the eve of my 33rd birthday and every year around this time, I start thinking about what I haven't accomplished, yet. Then I get panicked and worry that I will always just be a dreamer. Where I am at in my “writing life” is not where I want to be, no. But I thought this year, I could confront that fact, then contemplate ways to move forward. I guess I've already started by joining a group and getting the work done...very slowly. I'm starting to think there is something to be said for being a late-bloomer and maybe, just maybe, letting my anxieties about being off-track overwhelm me is actually holding me back. Being a late-bloomer has always worked for me in so many other areas of my life, so why not in this one?
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
5 GLBT-Themed Movies
Do I Love You?, 2002 -- (1 hour and 30 min.) - directed by Lisa Gornick, who also stars as the main character, Marina. After much consideration, I've decided that I really liked this movie, and it’s not just the cute girls with sexy British accents. Why so much inner debate, though? Well, at times, it hits a little too close to home for comfort. Then again, the realism is part of the charm that led me to my final conclusion. Marina is a 30-ish lesbian who is uncomfortable with her body and her sexuality. After living with her girlfriend, Romy for awhile, she is considering breaking up with her. This leads Marina on a philosophical quest for answers, which she seeks from friends, ex-lovers and even a therapist. In one scene, she tells her therapist that she feels gross when her breasts are touched or sucked by a lover, reminding her of when she once slept with men. Despite this discomfort, we see Marina question whether she'd like to pursue sex with men again. Sometimes Marina's quest is actual and at other times, it is merely via observation and her voice over account. "Do I Love You?" is part documentary-esque philosophical drama, part love story. Some of the dialogue is awkward and occasionally actors trip over lines, but there’s an honesty here that’s hard to come by in some American movies. The close-ups of realistic relationships are in turns lovely, sad, funny and poignant: friendships with exes, live-in lovers, drama with insane and clingy girlfriends. In the end, Marina and Romy are a confused but adorable couple that you want to stay together.
The Watermelon Woman, 1996 – Low-budget (and fairly well-known cult classic) movie about a young black woman filmmaker attempting to get the story on a long forgotten black actress from the classic age of cinema. Due to the inexperience of some of the actors, this movie falters in some ways. However, on the whole I found it funny and worth another viewing. Guinevere Turner guest stars, which IMHO always makes a movie worth watching,
A Family Affair, 2003 – I was a little worried about seeing this one for a few reasons. For one, a lot of the user reviews on Netflix were unforgiving. For another, I recognized one of the women leads as the woman from countless commercials – most notably, the KY Jelly commercial. I’m totally not kidding, folks. Nevertheless, I had to see it since one of my absolute favorite comedians, Suzanne Westenhoefer has a small role. I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised.
The movie’s main character is Rachel, who has just left New York and a cheating ex-girlfriend to rebuild her life in California. There, she meets and falls in love with the KY Jelly woman. Sorry, it’s the only way I can refer to her forever and ever, amen. Anyway, they decide to have a commitment ceremony, but just beforehand, the ex shows up and makes an emotional mess of everyone.
Admittedly, I had some issues with this movie. For one, the KY chick was actually pretty annoying: overly sincere to the point of seeming insincere, very whiny and somewhat psycho in her clinginess. Plus, she was wearing what had to be a wig, because it looked completely wrong on her head. And of course, there was the fact that Westenhoefer had such a tiny role. Despite the flaws, though, I found comedian Helen Lesnick’s character, Rachel likeable and her sarcasm hilarious.
When Night Is Falling, 1995 – Very strange movie in which a circus performer falls for a lit professor from a Christian college after meeting her one night at a laundromat. Hmn. I think this movie certainly had its charming aspects. Rachel Crawford who plays Petra, the circus performer, was supremely sexy and both actresses did excellent jobs with the material. Still, there were some hard-to-miss and somewhat inexcusable faults I found. For instance, sure Petra is beautiful and exciting, but it seems a little nonsensical the way she and Camille are brought together time and again. We’re expected to believe that Camille falls in love with someone who is basically following her and won’t leave her alone. Yeah, because we women love a stalker. Don’t even get me started on the dead dog that spends most of the movie in the refridgerator. Now I’ve got you curious, eh?
Shortbus, 2006 – I don't have a real review for this one, just two words: Simply amazing. John Cameron Mitchell is a genius and his second feature is a sexy, smart and often humorous romp. I’m going to own this one, I think. Warning, though: It’s the first American movie that isn’t porn to use real sex and it’s not for the faint of heart.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
.imagine doing just what the big bang did.
I feel like my insides have been put through a shredder this week, which is probably a very cliche way to say that I feel pretty fed up with my life at the moment.
On the bright side, I got a job offer from the Census Bureau and will be training for that in a few weeks. It's temporary - only 8 weeks long - and it doesn't like something I am really going to like (in fact, I am a little scared). But it pays $18.25 an hour, I have to work at least 20 hours a week and that comes down to a lot more money than I am making now or than I made before. At least for eight weeks.
On the bright side, I got a job offer from the Census Bureau and will be training for that in a few weeks. It's temporary - only 8 weeks long - and it doesn't like something I am really going to like (in fact, I am a little scared). But it pays $18.25 an hour, I have to work at least 20 hours a week and that comes down to a lot more money than I am making now or than I made before. At least for eight weeks.
On the flip side, though, is the fact that it's going to require me to miss a library conference I really wanted to go to (yes, I am a nerd) in order to attend training. Which also was a hassle for the powers that be in Circulation, considering they had already paid for me to go. I feel awful, but I just couldn't turn down a job offer. But I am losing sleep anyway.
For some reason, ideas haven't failed me this week, though. I have been plotting a comic strip and have been working on my book a little everyday.
On an angst-ridden side note, I've also been waxing nostalgic with The Breeders and early Ani Difranco on my mp3 player. Yeah, it's been that kind of week - the kind where that time in my life is starting to seem like the "good ol' days." Maybe I just need a stiff drink.
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