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Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Is Paris burning? Only when she pees.
Jason's birthday, a concert by the Detroit Symphony, a party, frisbee in the park, gardening, home repair, and a parade all made this weekend a very busy one.
It's funny, but I don't really feel like writing about all of that. So instead I'm going to post some pictures of my garden. For everyone who said that I wouldn't be able to grow roses... Eat your hearts out.  This is a Cardinal Richelieu. This bloom is a little spent, but you get the idea.  The white rose is a Madame Hardy.  Last year we didn't get a single bloom off of the iris. So I dug them up and moved them to a different spot, all the while threatening them that if they didn't bloom this year, I would get rid of them and plant something else. I guess they listened, because our garden is now filled with these large, purple flowers. Talking to plants does work after all. Oh, and if you're wondering about the subject of this post, Paris and Paris have gotten engaged. Awww...  Think of the children.
Friday, May 27, 2005
Friday: Culture and a hot guy [+/-] Today's culture: Classical SnarkWant to talk a good fight about Classical music? Want to impress others with your discerning tastes about popular orchestral works? Of course you do! So I give you this list of three pieces of often exaulted music that you are allowed to hate (and why), and three pieces of often berated music that you will want to defend (and why). You can hate these: Bolero, by Maurice Ravel There is a legend among classical musicians that Bolero was written as an exercise in orchestration, and that it was never meant to be performed. This is not true, but if you listen to Bolero, you might begin to see why the legend persists. This piece is one big theme, repeated and repeated and repeated again. The only variations on the theme are the instruments that play it. It is the symphonic equilivent of watching people stand in line at a bank. What the problem is: Simply put, it's boring. What you say to look educated: It was originally intended to be a ballet, and the composer's intent was that the audience focus on the dancers, not on the music. Scheherazade, by Rimsky-Korsakov Oy. There was once a sultan who vowed to execute each of his wives after spending one night with her. Scheherazade, the title character, decided that she would tell the sultan a story that would last for 1,001 nights, so that he wouldn't execute her. (Sound familiar?) The tone poem by Rimsky-Korsakov captures the overwrought drama and soporific effect that these stories must have had. What the problem is: Too much drama, not enough resolution. Plus, it will probably make you seasick. What you say to look educated: Rimsky-Korsakov himself was never satisfied with the work. Canon in D, by Pachebel Did you know that when you hear those first four notes at a wedding, ettiquete actually allows you to groan audibly? The bride, or whomever chose this over-played piece of fluff, is obviously a Philistine, and you should ask that she return your gift to you because she is unworthy of your friendship. However, this piece has developed such a cult following that there are entire webrings devoted to it. What the problem is: What isn't the problem? First, the piece is maudlin and simplistic, even by Baroque standards. Second, it is almost never performed by the appropriate combination of instruments-- three violins and basso continuo. Third, it is so overplayed that a visitor to this planet would think that it is the only piece of music to survive the 17th century. What to say so you sound smart: Turn that shit off or I will set this place on fire. Bonus smart thing to say: Did you know this piece is the foundation of the Pet Shop Boy's "Go West?" You will want to defend these: 5th Symphony, by Beethoven Yes, it's overplayed. Yes, we have all heard the clever lyrics to the first four notes. Look past that, however, and this piece is pure musical gold. It is one of the most complex works of Beethoven, who was one of the most complex composers of his day. For example: That pattern of three-shorts-and-a-long appears in almost every passage in the symphony, but it never gets tired, because Beethoven's a genius. What to say to look smart: The third and fourth movements perfectly represent the transition from the smaller orchestra of the classical period to the larger, more powerful and emotional music of the romantic period. Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, by Mozart Again, there is no need to sing the clever lyrics. Instead, focus on the simplicity of the opening theme: Mozart really understood the concept of light music. By the way, the original title is "Serenade for strings in G major." What to say to look smart: The piece originally had five movements, but the original second movement has been lost. Carmen, by Bizet. Some of the most recognizable music in the history of music. When it debuted, it was said to be "immoral" and "superficial." But time was on Bizet's side, and now every single aria is a hit. For this opera alone Bizet gets a place with the rest of the musical greats. If you don't like opera, see Carmen, and it will change your mind. What to say to look smart: The musical influence of Carmen has touched everyone from Gershwin to Beyonce. Now that's powerful art.
From his college days...
Thursday, May 26, 2005
I, for one, blame the Red States.
Once Vonzell was voted off, it was all over anyway.
But still, it hurt last night to know that my fellow Americans voted for the Brandy-Sue, the insipid femme-bot who always sings about 1/4 pitch flat.  The higher the hair, the closer to God. It makes me wonder if everyone else was watching the same show that I was watching. Or, maybe I really am one of the cultural elite. (Oh, who am I kidding? Of course I am.) I can't believe that I wasted two hours of my life on that crap last night. I feel dirty. The bad kind of dirty.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
What do people do all day long?
Typical day:
6:00 am--Alarm goes off, I hit 6:30 am--After several snooze cycles, I drag myself to the shower, where I sit on the edge of the tub and stare at my feet, in a trance-like state. 6:35 am--I stop staring at my feet and actually get into the shower. 6:45 am--Exit shower. Dress and groom. Make sure Jason is awake, usually by going into the bedroom and singing to him. (Awww...) 7:00 am--Eat breakfast while watching Buffy: The Vampire Slayer on FX. 7:30 am--Leave for work, listen to NPR while driving 8:00 am--Arrive at the agency, snuffle around the office (much like a truffle hound) for doughnuts, drink coffee. Update blog, check e-mail, check voice mail. 9:00 am--Begin to see clients. 11:00 am--Lunch: Eat, read blogs, listen to iPod. 12:00 pm--Return to work, usually paperwork in the early afternoon 4:30 pm--Leave the agency, drive home. 5:00 pm--Arrive at home, eat dinner, watch Simpsons reruns. 5:30 pm--Leave for private office. Ask myself why I work so damn hard. 6:00 pm--Begin seeing private practice clients. 8:00 pm--Finish with clients for the night. 8:30 pm--Arrive at home, collapse on the couch, exhausted. Begin the process of liquefying my brain with prime time television. 11:00 pm--Go to bed. Have that dream about being covered in chocolate cake again. (No, really. I am not making this up.) 2:00 am--Wake up to pee, bang shin on the bed while lumbering back from the bathroom, curse loudly. 4:00 am--At this point my cat decides he would like nothing better in the world than to lick the skin off my face. I spend the next hour fighting off the cat. 6:00 am--Begin at top. Vamp until dead.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Link-o-rama
Jay is out of town for the week, so I'm wallowing in crapulence. I can't be bothered with creating witty content: Have some links instead.
An addictive little game which tests your spatial relation skills. Ridiculously hard trivia questions. (I'm looking at you, Carrie.) Richard Dawkins, an Oxford professor, takes a swing at intelligent Design. This article is soooo worth reading, if only for the final quote: You don't know how the nerve impulse works? Good! You don't understand how memories are laid down in the brain? Excellent! Is photosynthesis a bafflingly complex process? Wonderful! Please don't go to work on the problem, just give up, and appeal to God. Dear scientist, don't work on your mysteries. Bring us your mysteries for we can use them. Don't squander precious ignorance by researching it away. Ignorance is God's gift to Kansas. On a related note, 15 Answers to Creationist Nonsense is also worth a look. A new implant for depression? It might help people, but it does seem a little odd. Who would Jesus bomb? These guys probably know.
Monday, May 23, 2005
It's all geek to me.  You guessed it: I saw Star Wars III over the weekend. If you like that sort of thing, I would recommend it. It answers the question that we've all been asking: "Why does Darth Vader wear that mask?" (The answer: "Punishment for poor acting.") It really is an entertaining movie, despite the terrible dialogue ("A prophecy that misread could have been."). Which reminds me... Does anyone else suspect that Yoda talks that way because he suffered a stroke? ("The left side of my body I cannot move.") In other geek-related news, I heard the funniest pick-up line on Sunday:
Please tell me someone else out there gets that.
Friday, May 20, 2005
Friday culture and a hot guy [+/-] Because sex sells, I put the culture under the cut.Gerard ter Borch was a Dutch painter who lived between 1617 and 1681. Jay and I saw a Ter Borch exhibit at the Detroit Institute of Arts last weekend. Ter Borch was known for helping to develop the "genre" style of painting--the painting of everyday objects and people. Previously, painters had focused on portraits of important/wealthy people, historical or mythological events, or (occasionally) landscapes. Ter Borch painted ordinary subjects with stunning beauty. For example, this painting, titled "Maid Milking," shows a woman milking a cow. But pay attention to the detail work in the painting--notice how you can almost feel the textures of the cow's skin and of the woman's dress. Ter Borch's work is known for it's ambiguity of subject. In other words, it is not clear exactly what is going on in any painting, and the viewer is left to create an interpretation. This painting, called "Horse Stable," is an example. What is happening here? My partner believes that the woman--who is probably the lady of the house, judging by her jewelry and dress--is having an affair with the man in the stable. He bases this on the look that the woman is giving the man, and the prodigious quantity of phallic symbols in the work. What do you think? (Notice also the intricate details and the use of light of shadow.) This painting, titled "The Music Lesson," is also ambiguous. It is a little difficult to see on the web page, but it is still clear that the man and women with instruments are looking at each other with a pretty lustful gaze for the 17th century. But what is the standing man looking at? Does anyone else think that he is engaging in that centuries-old homosexual tradition of watching the straight man you are in love with flirt with someone else? For more information in Ter Borch, check out the Rijksmuseum's pages devoted to the artist and his work. Today's hottie is Keith Hamilton Cobb, who played Tyr Anasazi in the Sci-Fi show Andromeda, and who was the only reason to watch that show. He also did some work for soaps, and has done some Shakespeare on stage as well. I enjoy him.  
Thursday, May 19, 2005
I spit in your general direction.
Last night Americans chose
American Idol: You are dead to me. Dead! And if you voted for Carrie--a curse on you and your goat. In other news: Star Wars as political commentary? I read (and pointed out) an article on this earlier in the week. Aparently, both sides of the debate are taking the possible political overtones in this pretty seriously. Way more seriously than is necessary, if you ask me. The NY Times points to a group called PABAAH (Patriotic American Boycotting Anti-American Hollywood), which denounces the film. The site also denounces other films and encourages the government to try Michael Moore for treason. (The site's most disturbing content? This Picture. It's work safe, don't worry.) PABAAH is cited in both the NY Times and USA Today, and will appear on World News with Peter Jennings. Of course, those of us who watch The Daily Show will already know about PABAAH. Once again, the Daily Show is ahead of the other media outlets.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
2 pieces of TV ephemera
1) I watched Britney Spears' new reality show entirely because I would provide some material for the blog. And I guess it did, because I'm blogging about it now.
The basic premise is that Britney uses a hand held camera to document her life. The result is like a catalogue of what makes home movies awful: The camera bounces up and down at times, people are filmed at strange angles, and the viewer is often treated to up-the-nose shots as the Pop Diva turns the camera towards her own face to comment. The result is likely to produce nausea, and the show should carry a warning from the surgeon general indicating that. But the show's worst sin, by far, is that it is tediously, laboriously, fatiguingly boring. I can't even poke fun at the show, because it is just too boring to inspire witty commentary. Due to the poor camera work and the lack of anything interesting happening, I dub this show "The Bland Bitch Project." 2) American Idol last night was a little disapointing. The contestents sang songs that the judges chose for them. The judges all chose songs that were simple and in the genre in which the contestents were comfortable. If I were a judge on American Idol, I would choose something more challenging for them: Bo People, by Barbra Streisand Mississippi Goddam! by Nina Simone Ice Ice Baby by Vanilla Ice Vonzell Everybody Knows, Leonard Cohen Theme from "Maude" Mercedes Benz by Janis Joplin Sissy-Belle 4'33" by John Cage Homeward Bound, Simon and Garfunkel Vote for Vonzell (an original composition)
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
I have a chart to back me up, so fuck off.
Yesterday, I thought I'd tune in to our local top 40 station (which is kind of rare for me) and give pop music another chance. It was a beautiful day, I was cruising down the road in my Jaguar (Ha!), so I thought, "Oh, some mindless pop music will be just the thing!"
God was I wrong. I am going to devote the rest of this post to ranting about what is, without a doubt, the Worst Song Ever. That's right--Lou Bega's "Mambo #5." First, why is this song still on the air? Aren't top 40 stations supposed to have the institutional memory of fruit flies? I expect that anything that happened before the year 2000 will have been long forgotten by now, drowned out by choruses of teeny-boppers gnashing their teeth and rending their garments over the latest Ashlee Simpson scandal. (OK... Deep breath... and exhale...) Does anyone ever listen to the lyrics of Mambo #5? Let's examine them, shall we? One, two, three, four, five What the hell does this mean?? What, in the name of all that his Holy, is a "Beerbust?" Perhaps he meant "Beer Buzz?" And you "must stay deep because talk is cheap?" What the fuck? That doesn't even begin to make sense. Oh, and if the store is around the corner, WALK you lazy fat-ass. Let's continue with more lyrics:
This is the kind of poetry that you usually find scrawled in human feces on a bathroom wall in a psychiatric hospital. Why the crazy reference to Jesus? It has a kind of ridiculously blasphemous "Oh, Jesus, we praise you for this erection" feel about it. And here's a hint, Mr. Bega: A love song should not have the phrase "Let me dump it." And the final indignity--There is NO trumpet anywhere on this recording. This, despite the fact that the "singer" makes reference to a trumpet several times, at one point even asking "Where's the trumpet?" Listen up, you slack-jawed idiot: There are plenty of saxophones, and there is, at one point, some synthesizer sound that vaguely replicates some undifferentiated brass instrument, but THERE IS NO TRUMPET IN THE SONG, YOU MORON. (Deep breath... and exhale...)
Worst. Dance. Ever. It will cause you to cross your feet not once, but twice! Let's examine why, using a graphic representation: (Click to see it larger.)  At this point the song deteriorates into mindless phrases and some kind of animalistic yelping. I really don't have an explanation for this. But I think that I may have a solution.
Monday, May 16, 2005
What do YOU think?
Is Star Wars a commentary on the war on terror? I wonder what this guy would say?
Conservatives are trying to eliminate the liberal bias in public broadcasting. Of course public broadcasting is more liberal. Maybe Conservatives should ask themselves, "Why do we look so stupid on NPR?" Calculate what color eyes your kids will have. If Jay and I could have babies together, they'd have a 70% chance of having green eyes, like me. A random list of things that don't exist. Like Chocolate covered cotton. Things overheard in New York. Hmmm...
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Friday: Pretentious Culture and a Hot Guy [+/-] Because I know you all come for the hottie, the culture is under the cut.I have a passion for art glass. Specifically, American studio glass. ("Studio glass" is the term used to describe works of glass that are produced in relatively small studios, and which are generally intended to stand alone as works of sculpture, as opposed to being intended for more practical purposes.) I could write all day about studio glass, but I will confine myself to writing about two of the more influential artists. Without a doubt, the most famous studio glass artist is Dale Chihuly. His work is usually easy to identify: it is characterized by the use of vibrant colors, contrasts between opaque and transparent glass, organic forms, and clusters of objects.
Mary Ann "Toots" Zynsky is another great studio glass artist. Her pieces are made up of hundreds of tiny glass threads, fused together, and then shaped into bowl-like forms. Her work is also characterized by organic forms, and her use of color is very distinctive.
Finally, here is one of the pieces from my collection of art glass. (This piece was actually blow in a studio in Murano, which is a group of small islands near Venice, Italy.) The picture was taken with my crappy camera phone, but you can still see the way the light plays off the piece. It has a similar organic feel to it as the works of Zynsky and Chihuly, although that feeling is accomplished in a much different way. Today you get a hottie double-header: Young David Boreanaz, and Wet David Boreanaz.  
Book review  I finished reading A Stroke of Midnight by Laurell K. Hamilton, and I feel as though I owe it to the world to give some kind of a warning. This is, without a doubt, the worst book I have ever read. Now, I admit, that I usually do not even attempt to finish reading books that are this terrible. So I can't tell you with authority that this is the worst book that I've ever held in my hands, but I can confidently say that it is the worst book, by far, that I have ever completed. This book is bad, my friends. But worse, it's bad in a banal way. All of the Meridith Gentry books by this author are "bad"--but all of the others have been somewhat entertaining despite being poorly constructed and disjointed. But this book is completely devoid of any literary device. Theme, foreshadowing, symbolism, irony, tension, denouement--all of them have been banished by Hamilton in this massive work of crap. In an interesting note, it appears that Hamilton has actually accomplished something difficult, in that she has managed to write 366 pages without a plot. That's right, my friends: Nothing actually happens in this book. The main character goes from room to room and interacts with people, but there is no unifying theme to any of it. Therefore, Hamilton may have actually penned the world's first work of fiction that cannot be called a "story." Perhaps she deserves some kind of prize for that. To sum up, I will quote a customer review I read of this book on Amazon.com: "Ms. Hamilton has written an awful lot of words to tell about the events in this book." And even though that play on words is almost too clever to waste on describing A Stroke of Midnight, that's exactly my point. The book is an awful, tedious lot of words.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
I'm back. USA! USA!
I was gone for a couple of days because of some computer stuff happening in my office. Yesterday afternoon the tech guy told me it was OK to get back online; I actually sighed audibly when I started to read my Bloggie friends again. I'm such a dork.
I turned 28 last Saturday, and I had a great weekend. But I've already processed it, so I'm not going to share it with you. At least, not all of it. Jay took me to dinner at the Majestic Cafe, which is next door to the Majestic Theatre. As Jay and I were leaving, we noticed a group of hot men wearing multi-colored tights lining up at the back door to the theater. It turns out that there was a Pro Wrestling show at the Majestic on that night. (Those of you who know me know that pro wrestling would have been a great birthday event for me, but I digress...) Off to the side there was a man sitting on a curb. I looked closer, and noticed that it was "Hacksaw" Jim Duggan. He was holding a glossy publicity photo from his days in the WWF. It looked like this. He signed, and rolled it up, and joined the other guys in line. Considering that Hacksaw now looks more like this, I felt kind of bad for him.
Friday, May 06, 2005
Friday Culture (and some eye candy)
As regular readers of this blog (hi, mom!) will know, I like to post something cultural on Fridays. Last month (it was April, you stoners) was National Poetry Month, so Fridays usually saw some poetry.
So, wanting to continue this tradition, I did a little research to see to what National Noun the month is May is dedicated. And I discovered that May is National Masturbation Month, National Physical Fitness Month, and National Electrical Safety Month.I can think of a way to celebrate all three of these at once. Can you? Since May isn't dedicated to any particular art form, I'm just going to talk about whatever cultural thing I want to. And today I'm going to talk about Arman (whose birth name is Armand Pierre Fernandez), a French-born artist currently living in New York. He is known for featuring accumulations of every-day objects. So picture it: It's 1989, and I am twelve. My parents take me to see the Arman Retrospective at the Detroit Institute of Arts (my parents often took me to art museums, and because I was a little fag, I was thrilled to go). I remember almost everything about that exhibit, because it was the first time in my life I looked at art and understood it--not just "Oh, that's a lovely picture. Very nice." More like "I think that's brilliant. Just looking at it makes me feel good. I want to own it, so I can see it every day, and share it with my friends." Fast forward about ten years, and I'm in college, studying in France. I take a weekend-trip to Nice, and as I'm walking from the Youth Hostel to the Beach, I pass by an art gallery, and I turn my head and I see an Arman in the window, very similiar to the ones that I saw as a child. I went into the gallery, carrying my backpack and my towel. A woman comes out from the back and looks at me suspiciously. She asks, "Can I help you?" (In French, of course.) I respond, "I was just walking by, and I saw the Arman, and I just wanted to see it up close." She immediately changed from being suspicious to extremely warm--"Oh! You know Arman!" And then she showed me every Arman work in the gallery, even taking me into the back rooms to see the ones that had already been sold. We talked, and I had a great afternoon. She gave me a business card, which I still have in my wallet. (This is the gallery's website.) Here are a few of his works: Careless, a sliced-up bicycle and palette knives on canvas Untitled, an accumulation of squashed paint tubes on canvas Vibrations, a sliced miniature music instrument Here is the artist's website. The Friday hottie:  Teddy Dunn, who plays Duncan Kane on my current favorite TV show, Veronica Mars.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Music
Yes, Scott is gone. One the one hand, I feel almost sad that I won't get to see him next week. He was proof that you don't need to be good-looking, or interesting, or talented in order to be on television. He was an
On the other hand, if I think about it hard enough, it restores my faith in humanity--since this is a contest based on one's ability to (1) sing well, and (2) be liked by millions, it's nice to know that the rest of the world sees that he is a inelegant, blunderous hack.  You can go back to your baby-momma-drama now. Let's move on to another important issue in the arts. Namely, the tragedy that is Coca-Cola's use of Harry Nilsson's "Coconut," which is undoubtedly the best drinking/party song ever, to market Coke with Lime. And when I say that Coca-Cola "used" the song, I mean that in the same way that one "uses" toilet paper. As if it's not enough to attach this fantastic song to a product whose taste can be described charitably as "Windex-tastic," Coke has the audacity to suggest that the lyrics to the song are "You put the lime in the Coke, you nut, and drink them both together." The obvious question is: Why is the FCC silent on this issue? If this doesn't constitute obscenity, then what does? (If you haven't seen the commercial yet, you can see it here.)
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Connecting with my Inner Child, who happens to be a 13 year-old girl.
I watched American Idol last night with my mom (well, we were on the phone for much of it, so that counts) and when Scott Savol got up to sing, she says:
"Oh! That reminds me... I'm reading a book on the Abominable Snowman..." I laughed so hard I wanted to pee.   Can you guess which is the abusive, albino monster? In other TV-related news (this blog has really gone to hell, hasn't it?) I am super-psyched about the final episode of Veronica Mars, which is still the best show ever. I think I've figured out who killed Lilly Kane. I think it was Logan, but that the Kane family is covering it up because they think it was Duncan. That makes sense, right? I can't wait to see if I'm right! And BTW, which I was searching for that picture above, I found this page. This is a term that I had not heard before. (Warning: This may not be work safe, depending on where you work.)
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Stuff to see and do
Today you get links:
This website, which is dedicated to Condaleeza Rice running for President in 2008, is a little disturbing. I can't quite figure out if it's supposed to be satire or not.  Ever vigilant. You got a cut? Rub bacon on it. Kitten war. Awww... cute... A lamp owened by Anton LeVay. Ugh.
Monday, May 02, 2005
Remarkably accurate  You're the Hipster Intellecticus. Call yourself what you will (beatnik, philosophy major, liberal arts student), you're still hip and you still dig Kerouac. Thanks to Chrisafer for the link.
Don't forget to bring a towel. (File this entry under "King Dork.")  I saw The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy on Friday. It was quite funny. It's nice to see absurdist humor once and a while. There is a scene where the hero of the story is tied up by hideously fat, ugly aliens and forced to listen to a recitation of terrible, brain-liquefying poetry. It reminded me of something...   Will the world find out in time? |
