[We] Need a Hero June 28, 2008

The boy introduced me to the band Dispatch when we first started dating. The music is something else, you should give it a listen. The song “Out Loud” sends chills up my spine and quickly became one of my favorites, but that’s for another post.

Last night, after driving home from dinner, their song “The General” came on, and the its lyrics affected me in a much different way that they had ever before. No surprise, but I got a lump in my throat listening to it. It is my understanding that the song was written before the war in Iraq, and by some accounts on the internet was actually written about child warfare, which makes it even more poignant and chilling.

But last night, singing along, I was struck with the thought that the figure in this song might be what we need in this moment in time. A leader who will step up, take responsibility, and send our boys and girls home, without shame.

I’ve posted a live clip of Dispatch singing this song, but because these boys’ frenetic tongues can be hard to decipher on first listening, I’ve also copied the lyrics below.

“General”

there was a decorated general with
a heart of gold, that likened him to
all the stories he told
of past battles, won and lost, and
legends of old a seasoned veteran in
his own time

on the battlefield, he gained
respectful fame with many medals
of bravery and stripes to his name
he grew a beard as soon as he could
to cover the scars on his face
and always urged his men on

but on the eve of a great battle
with the infantry in dream
the old general tossed in his sleep
and wrestled with its meaning
he awoke from the night
just to tell what he had seen
and walked slowly out of his tent

all the men held tall with their
chests in the air, with courage in
their blood and a fire in their stare
it was a grey morning and they all
wondered how they would fare
till the old general told them to go home

I have seen the others
and I have discovered
that this fight is not worth fighting
I have seen their mothers
and I will no other
to follow me where I’m going

Take a shower, shine your shoes
you got no time to lose
you are young men you must be living
go now you are forgiven

but the men stood fast with their
guns on their shoulders not knowing
what to do with the contradicting orders
the general said he would do his own
duty bout would not extend it not further
the men could go as they pleased

but not a man moved, their eyes gazed straight ahead
till one by one
they stepped back and not a word was said
and the old general was left with his
own words echoing in his head
he then prepared to fight

go now you are forgiven

Who will be our general?

Righteous Babe May 2, 2008

There are certain conclusions that can be made about a girl living in Decatur who freely admits she is an Ani Difranco fan. Suffice to say I have never been, and never will be, happier than I am in my relationship with the boy.

That said, I’m freely admitting it. I love Ani.

I love her ability to make a single guitar sound like three or four. I love how gutsy she is in her presence and in her art; she’s a soul completely exposed for all to see - no pretenses, no walls. I love how strong and passionate her voice is - possibly the strongest I’ve heard from a female vocalist. I love that you can hear the joy in her voice during a live performance, like she was born to be on stage.

And I love the way her lyrics - GOD, those lyrics - can make my heart drop to my toes and plant a lump in my throat the size of a grapefruit. One of the best examples of this is in “Both Hands,” a song I have yet to listen to without tears stinging the back of my eyes.

and both hands
now use both hands
oh, no don’t close your eyes
I am writing
graffiti on your body
I am drawing the story of
how hard we tried

[tear ...]

I am watching your chest rise and fall
like the tides of my life,
and the rest of it all
and your bones have been my bed frame
and your flesh has been my pillow
I am waiting for sleep
to offer up the deep
with both hands

[sniff ...]

in each other’s shadows we grew less and less tall
and eventually our theories couldn’t explain it all
and I’m recording our history now on the bedroom wall
and eventually the landlord will come
and paint over it all

[sob ...]

Makes me hug the boy just a little tighter, just thinking of the pain that inspired such words. Though her music is hardly always melancholic. Much of it is political; most is irreverent. I have yet to catch the live show, and that sucks because every time she comes through I say I’m going to go. I just want to be in the crowd when she sings this:

I broke down in Louisiana
and I had to thumb a ride
got in the first car that pulled over
you can’t be picky in the middle of the night
he said
baby, do you like to fool around
baby, do you like to be touched
I said
maybe some other time
fuck you very much

I wanna be brave. GOD, I envy that.

Strictly for Daydreaming. April 22, 2008

I want to be at home.
I want to be with my boy.
I want to talk with my friends.
I want to host a party.
I want to write a blog.
I want to write a column.
I want to write a book.
I want to work from home.
I want to travel.
I want to see Morocco.
I want to see the Eiffel Tower.
I want to see the Seven Wonders of the World.
I want to live on the Square.
I want to live in Canada.
I want to live in Paris.
I want to be a wife and mother.
I want to raise my family in Decatur.
I want to open a brewery.
I want to take improv classes.
I want to be in a production.
I want to sing.
I want to sing on stage.
I want to sing in a band.
I want to sing on Broadway.
I want Fantine’s death scene.
I want to be Tina Fey.
I want to be Hollis Gillespie.
I want to be recognized.
I want to make an impression.
I want to make a difference.
I want to retire to a chateau on a vineyard.
I want a glass of wine.
I want to be at home.

Wanderlust. April 11, 2008

I lost a trip to Paris.

Ok, so it wasn’t a trip to Paris. THAT I would have cried over. But I let an absolutely amazing door prize - a vacation package with lodging and airfare included - slip through my fingers at a recent benefit dinner for a client.

I bought a raffle ticket. I actually bought one. I never buy those things. I don’t like them. I can’t really explain why. Some sort of sense of dread - maybe of getting my hopes up and then having my dreams dashed to pieces before my eyes all because of chance. Because of a number.

I’ve never been good with numbers.

Still, I bought the thing. Only ten bucks! It’s for a good cause! What’s there to lose?

Honestly, I’d had a few drinks and had completely forgotten about the ticket when a coworker rushed out of the auditorium - to where I was situated next to the doors - yelling, “The winning number ended in 47!”

That’s me!

“They called it out five times and then drew the next number!”

WHAT?!?!

And there you go. Hopes built. Dreams dashed. And numbers? Evil.

“You have to be in the room when they call it to claim the prize … blah, blah, blah”

I never win these things. This is how I rationalize. I don’t win stuff like this. If I had been in the room, they would have called another number.

Truth be told, it all just seemed too nice anyway. A little above our heads, the boy’s and mine (though he was just as upset when he heard of my simultaneous win and loss later that night). Who knows? It may have been a lovely trip. But it also may have been a little stiff, a little forced. When the two of us talk of traveling together, I generally have a different image in mind.

I’m fairly certain, in my own experience at least, that these sorts of all-inclusive, “we’ll take care of all the details” sort of vacations actually hinder the experience of traveling to a new place. Not that comfort isn’t a welcome part of any trip. But when the travel, lodging, entertainment, dining, and every other detail has been decided for you, how can you really feel anything other than being shuttled around like cattle?

When I think of travel, I think of writing my own itinerary. Deciding to go see something at a moment’s notice with nothing holding me back. Packing belongings in a car and taking off in whatever direction sounds good at the time. Making a scrapbook along the way of photos and postcards and words describing who and what we saw. Planning a soundtrack that later will transport us back to that time and place instantly. Wandering aimlessly between the historic and the odd; between the Grand Canyon and the largest ball of yarn west of the Mississippi.

Or maybe Mt. Rushmore. That seems it would be a perfect combination of the revered and the weird.

Yep. Paris would have been completely sterile compared to the trip I’m planning in my own head.

Right?

Yes We Can February 11, 2008

 So this made me cry. Which meant I had to post it.

Yeah, I’m a sap. But that’s damn inspiring.

Guilty Pleasures: In Defense of Dancing Around to Justin Timberlake February 10, 2008

That’s right. I said it. Don’t act like you don’t do the same thing when you hear it.

That’s Why They Call Them Business Socks February 5, 2008

The boy brought to my attention that I had neglected to mention one of my very favorite shiny, happy songs - performed by an equally happy and shiny duo. For anyone who has seen Flight of the Conchords on HBO, you know how goofy and hilarious they are. But in my opinion, their older live stuff is SO much better.

Please watch this. You’ll thank me later.

And this.

Last one. For now.

Shiny, Happy Music January 28, 2008

A few years ago I made a mixed CD of songs that made me happy. Not just an “Aww, this reminds me of (fill in the blank)” sort of happy. That uncontrollable, tap-your-foot-and-bounce-around-like-a-muppet sort of happy. The type of songs that physically take control of me, and yank me out of my worst mood inspite of myself.

 

In reorganizing my iTunes this weekend (I have WAY more music than anyone could ever need), I ran across this list. I thought I’d share a few, in no particular order. Feel free to weigh in if you have any that you would add. Happy be-bopping!

Shiny, Happy People - R.E.M.
Whip It - Devo
Under Pressure - David Bowie & Queen
Upside Down and Bubbletoes - Jack Johnson
Send Me On My Way - Rusted Root
I’ve Got My Mind Set On You - George Harrison
I’m the One Who Wants to Be With You - Mr. Big
Nowhere Else - Seventy Sevens
Where It’s At - Beck
Just Like Heaven - The Cure
You Sexy Thing - Hot Chocolate
Son of a Preacher Man - Etta James
My Sharona - the Knack

Once January 1, 2008

I’ve fallen in love with another movie. It doesn’t take much, admitedly. The boy and I started off the new year by waking up and ordering a film On Demand (God love Comcast). The film is Once, a rough-cut indie film about a struggling musician and an imigrant thrown together in Dublin over the course of a week.

I loved the film for its romanticism, but not in typical Hollywood ending fashion. It’s not a hearts and roses sort of romance, but a real, tangible one of pining over lost love and those people who make their way into your life and leave their mark on you forever.

 It’s a musical, but again, not in that Hollywood cheesey-musical-intro-then-break-into-song way. The music is woven into the story in an incredibly beautiful, vulnerable, organic way. And I recommend you check out the soundtrack. Throughout the movie I was certain that Damien Rice had written every note. I was very pleasantly surprised when I found out that instead the male lead heads a popular Irish rock band (the Frames) and there is a good amount of his music circulating on Itunes and Myspace.

Check it out. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed, but if you are then I apologize. Because it really got to me. I have a feeling the beautiful voices of Guy and Girl will be pleasantly bouncing around my head for some time.

Spam Poetry September 24, 2007

Life is art. It is music. It is poetry.

Just look around you - you might have to squint your eyes a little to see past the day to day annoyances, but I truly, TRULY believe that there is beauty in every situation. It’s simply a matter of perspective.

CASE IN POINT

Below you will find a collection of prose gathered from what may be one of the most infuriating source of our modern times - the spam email.

And yes, I do realize I did not dream up SPAM POETRY all by my itty, bitty self - though I think I get brownie points for avoiding blatant references of male genitalia. The following only stems from the random word generation variety.

*Ahem*

Oh resplendent crank case.
So you were a knave of his.
Never lose again, Olga Esposito

Knowing they were English, speaking hu-mans
made us too nervous even to rely on the
short effective range of our mikes.

Big your piano. Be a real man.

The grin and Lolita were dancing in me,
and I almost fell over the folding chairs
that I attempted to dislodge.

Emboss genius.
Get a bigger flute.
Enjoy it, as I do.

Rosie says she won’t replace Bob Barker.
Buzz me in, will you?

Pay taxes to the crown, or offer more than lip service,
and that often slight.
Describes the state of the stream and indicates how to proceed.

To ourselves, Arbuckle.
On and forkland.
Your dog needs it.
And have an eye on that dwarf.

So put that in your pipe and smoke it, Kodac. Do I get a spot on your next lineup?