Let’s get one thing straight: I am NOT ready for a baby. I’m entirely selfish and flighty, and I abuse various substances on the regular. But I’m also twenty-seven — that age where I’m BOMBARDED with ultrasound photos and status updates of, “ZOMG Baby X rolled over for the first time and the happiness it gave me was akin to being smothered in puppies!”
More often than not, I will slosh around the wine in my glass and slur loudly at my monitor: “SHHuddup. Who, whooo diyoo think YOU are? MOTHER EARTH?!” But on some occasions my biological clock is all, “TICKITY-TOCK, JENNY!”
This would be one such occasion. Actor Jason Schwartzman at Amoeba Music (one of my favorite places of all places), picking out records for his baby-to-be:
I thought about that Beatles ‘65 album, how I own my dad’s copy from when he was fourteen, how I want MY baby to have it TOOOOO, and then my ovaries multi-fired, like, fourteen eggs.
(Video via The Daily What, which, if you haven’t yet discovered, is an hourly treasure trove of Internet baubles.)
I’ve referenced this tune twice in the past 48 hours, so I’m just posting it here. Partially because I have nothing of import to discuss today, and partially because I’m pretty sure I ovulated while watching this on YouTube:
FACT: I had the sheet music to the Linda Ronstadt/James Ingram version of this and played the guitar solo ON MY CLARINET. (COOL POINTS — RACKIN’ UP, AMIRITE, GUYS?)
Back in 2003, you may remember Alicia Keys releasing a single called “You Don’t Know My Name.” This song came up on an old mix I found while I was cleaning out my car the other day.
I’m going to tell you the top five reasons I am now obsessed with this song and its corresponding video.
Because if anything, this blog is TOPICAL.
Jenn’s Top Five: “You Don’t Know My Name” Edition
1) 0:00 Let’s get one thing straight: THIS VIDEO IS STUPID. But the song is a soul-stirring gem. (Co-written by Kanye West, John Legend on BG vocals, FTW.)
2) 0:33 Face it, you’d have that reaction too if you watched Mos Def slo-mo walk into your diner.
3) 1:05 I love songs that replace feelings with interjections. Like, “It feels like oooooh, but you don’t know my name.” (see also, “My love is like whoa.”)
4) 3:00 BASEMENT OF PIANOS. And it only takes one.
5) 3:37 MOTHERFUCKING SPOKEN WORD INTERLUDE. “You always order the special, wit da hot chocolate.”
So, I love the Beatles, but some times — usually a couple times a year — I REALLY REALLY love the Beatles like OMG OBSESSED. This recent bout could be a result of SEVEN HOURS of Beatles Rock Band play, last Saturday. If you heard George Harrison spinning in his grave, surely it was to my musical stylings on “Here Comes the Sun,” which were vehemently booed by the virtual crowd.
I’ve also been scouring the YouTubez for rare rehearsal video, and I just love this clip of Paul noodling around during the While Album sessions.
This is a classic,”Lah-di-dah, I’m just going to sit in this corner and be a genious” McCartney moment. “What’s that, George Martin? Oh, I was just playing around with this bit. Going to be a musical gem for the ages. Boom, McCartney’d.”
Speaking of the White Album, my friend Andrew, who works with my FAVE PROFESSOR, Glenn Gass, sent him my Ultimate White Album post. (More like, he mentioned it offhand, and I yelled, “You HAVE to send him this, I MUST know that he’s read it.”)
And The Great Professor said: Now that’s great! What a nice thing--thanks. And I would buy her album(!)
My Life = Infinitely Better.
PS. If you’re reading this, and you live in Indianapolis, you should HEAVILY consider coming out to Lockerbie Pub tonight. You can see my new bangs (Beau convinced me to get them again), and there will be dancing.
It also inspires some gorgeous artistic tributes, like one of my favorites - Veronese’s Scorn.
Cupid FTW
Lately I’ve been playing with the idea that love is only romantic when it’s unrequited.
It’s all very tragic and stupid.
AHEM.
THAT SAID? Go watch this awesome piece on last night’s So You Think You Can Dance, before the big bad network pulls it. Beautiful. Choreography by Sonya Tayeh.
One of my blogger pet peeves is when a writer gives excuses or apologizes for a month-long hiatus. I’m sure I’ve done it on the many, many “breaks” I’ve taken at this here blog. Usually, I’m going through some sort of existential crisis (I haven’t gotten any less dramatic in the past month! How ’bout that!) where I throw my head back and cry, “Write?! Lo, I can barely BREATHE!” Actually, no. It’s not like that.
My response to crisis lately has been the following:
I might get up to smoke a lone cigarette in between 4 and 5. Might.
BUT! BUT! BUT!
Those moments have become few and far between in the past couple months.
I haven’t written because…well. I’ve been writing. Not for this blog. You’ll hear more on that later.
I haven’t written because sometimes I think I’ll forget how. I don’t think this ever goes away. I’m learning to deal with that.
Those who have stuck with my flighty blogging habits know that when I break out of hibernation it’s for something truly superficial.
THUS. I PRESENT:
MY NEW FAVORITE THING.
B4-4.
Yeah, you grip that futuristic hula hoop.
B4-4 was a boy band from Canada. There are three of them, which I guess is the INGENIOUS WORDPLAY behind their moniker (Before Four = Three? Maybe I’m giving them too much credit.)
Anyway. This is my Favorite Thing This Week:
Oh, HOW I LOVE THIS VIDEO. Let me count the ways:
0:13 WHO THREW AWAY THIS PERFECTLY GOOD VIEWFIN-- UH-WHAAA SCARY ORANGE GUY!
0:24 BOOM, Foreshadow’d: “Setting your spirit free” is a motif of this video. Just a For Your Information.
0:36 CHORUS:
If you get down on me
I’ll get down on you
I will do anything
That you want me to
It’s a game of give and take
To make it through
So if you get down on me
I’ll get down on you tonight
YOU GUYS. YOU GUYS. It’s about ORAL SECKS. Wearing only puka shells, no doubt.
0:54 - “Nighttime turns to day again.” Funny how that happens.
1:05: I’m convinced that guy is only there for creepy call-outs.
1:35: Um, pedophiles?
1:40: “Gonna make you come tonight” “Over to my house!”
3:08: PEEYIMP!
So what happened to these guys?
After breaking up from the band, twins Ryan and Dan Kowarsky formed the group RyanDan together and have been working on an album consisting of pop and classical music. Ohad Einbinder (who is now a model) has also worked on pursuing his musical career in Los Angeles.
In July 2007 RyanDan recorded a collaboration with solo artist Ryan Richter. The subsequent concept album was titled RyanDanRyan.
Bess and I were sharing our childhood career dreams at lunch today. I wanted to be a cashier at Meijer because I thought you got to keep the money that was handed to you. Nice gig, I thought, at age four. Bess wanted to be a tightrope walker. This was based on her obsession with a character she saw on a children’s show in the 80s. As she was describing it to me, the faintest of memories came back --yeah, it was live action puppets, and the cat was a tight-rope walker, and there was a dog and a lion, and a circus, and…We couldn’t remember what it was.
It was like my television memories were being held nicely for twenty years like water in a reservoir, until that one hole that I patched with gum had just sprung a leak. Then we consulted YouTube and the whole damn thing busted open. And I’m all, “YEAH! THIS WAS IT! TOTALLY…THIS..this…wow. This is sh*t is f*cked up.”
The more these memories come flooding back, the more I realize that a lot of the shows I watched as a kid were seriously creepy. Today’s Special, anyone?
Then there was The Letter People. Readers, I can’t tell you what I had for breakfast this morning, but I can tell you that the first day of Kindergarten in 1988, we watched The Letter People episode featuring Mr. M. Granted, by the time I got to Kindergarten I could already read. I like to imagine my five year old self, clad in Oshkosh B’gosh, sitting with crossed arms on the back row of floor mats and looking at my fellow classmates as if to say, “Can you believe this sh*t?”
I’m sure there are better things in life than when a musical performance launches into full-on, hand-clapping gospel, but I can’t think of any at the moment. I squeal every time I witness such a spectacle, getting my lily-white midwestern ass out of my seat, clapping on the upbeats, and praying to God that someone will hand me a tambourine.
I was watching the Concert for Bangladesh while getting ready for work this morning, and had totally forgotten how Billy Preston breathed new life into the show with this perfect number. While I’m still trying to place myself in the grand scheme of religion/spirituality, art is what makes me feel closest to whatever God is. This song takes me to Church.
If you haven’t noticed, I’m still going strong for National Blog Posting Month, for May. (you may remember that in February, I made it a whopping four days.) Not that all the content has been great, by any means. I mean, clearly I’ve phoned some stuff in here and there, but hey, I’M NOT A MACHINE, PEOPLE. I’ve been away and even SCHEDULED my last couple posts. So. I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but… TOOT f*cking TOOT.
I have plenty of things to discuss, but they will have to wait for another day. For now, I’m completely exhausted and winding down by watching the Let It Be film on YouTube.
I thoroughly enjoyed this clip of George Harrison helping Ringo Starr with the chord progressions of “Octopus’s Garden.” The exchange is kind of adorable, even though you get the sense that George is basically indulging Ringo with this song about an undersea hideaway. Priceless look around 1:50 when the two play the song for George Martin.
As you can imagine, working at an ad agency does not come without its twinges of moral discord. There’s always a part of me that’s like, “You just placed a print ad for a cosmetic surgeon. Your soul just died a little.” Or, “You just placed a steakburger commerical in The Biggest Loser. You are a horrible person.”
However, it’s stuff like this that makes me proud to be in the industry:
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