From an email forward (color choice courtesy of the author, though the font was Comic Sans)...
"THIS SAYS IT ALL:
Time passes
Life happens.
Distance separates.
Children grow up.
Jobs come and go.
Love
waxes and wanes.
Men don't do what they're supposed to do.
Hearts
break.
Parents die.
Colleagues forget favors.
Careers end."
Let me stop there for a second. "Parents die"? "Colleagues forget favors"? Are these two sorrows equal? And what exactly are men "supposed" to do?
It goes on...
"BUT.........Sisters are there, no matter how much time and how many miles are between you. A girl friend is never farther away than needing her can reach."
My brain kind of tweaks at that last sentence... "needing her can reach..." I'm flummoxed.
"When you have to walk that lonesome valley and you have to walk it by yourself, the women in your life will be on the valley's rim, cheering you on, praying for you, pulling for you, intervening on your behalf, and waiting with open arms at the valley's end."
"Lonesome valley." Hee.
"Sometimes, they will even break the rules and walk beside you...Or come in and carry you out."
... from a bar on a Wednesday night when you're too drunk to walk...
"Girlfriends, daughters, granddaughters, daughters-in-law, sisters, sisters-in-law, Mothers, Grandmothers, aunties, nieces, cousins, and extended family, all bless our life!"
What about great-grandmothers and great-grand-daughters and great-aunts and step-daughters and step-mothers and domestic partners and gal lovers? Why do they all get the shaft (as usual)?
"The world wouldn't be the same without women, and neither would I. When we began this adventure called womanhood, we had no idea of the incredible joys or sorrows that lay ahead. Nor did we know how much we would need each other."
...for things like tampon advice, borrowing curling irons, shoe shopping, and of course the inevitable shoulder to cry on when men don't do what they're supposed to do...
Every day, we need each other still. Pass this on to all the women who help make your life meaningful. I just did. Short and very sweet:"
And now, into the stratosphere...
"There are more than twenty angels in this world. Ten are peacefully sleeping on clouds. Nine are playing. And one is reading her email at this moment."
Um, what? Angels have the internet??
"Send this message to ten of your friends including me. If you get 5 replies, someone you love will surprise you..Happy days!
Don't break this;
it's working!"
Well thank goodness. I love getting surprised by people I love. And by posting this here, I will SURELY get returns in the multiples. Because angels read blogs too, correct?
Thanks, mumsy...
In other news... BSG returns Friday night! I am so excited I could pee. Like, RIGHT. NOW.
"It started out as an obsession with white noise. I knew Penderecki had a solid block of the stuff at the end of tis Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima--the strings are playing all possible frequencies, simultaneously, in a two-octave range--and this just fascinated me for years. Apart from anythong else, it was a reminder that you could do anything with a string orchestra--all the frequencies are just there, like a block of plaster, and you can scoop shapes out of the stuff.
"But there were some blind alleys, too. Having the luxury of workshops with the BBC Concert Orchestra, we tried other ideas. One was to build a drum machine out of the white noise. I figured it would be simple: a hih cluster of tones for the high-hat, a fuller machine made from what is basically 32 wooden boxes strung with wires. And everyone'd be amazed. The first few seconds of one run-through was enough to know that this wasn't going to worry Kraftwerk much. Instead, it was just the same, unwelcomely-atonal chord repeated over and over, for minutes on end, to the quiet distress of everyone in the room. You're better off not having been there.
"This was, of course, because it's not perfect white noise that's being generated: it's not a white-noise module connected to an envelope generator connected to a loudspeaker, but a room full of breathing, shuffling, occasionally distracted players. And some players (and so some frequencies) are inevitably going to be louder than others, or poke out when the bows change direction, or because you're sitting closer to some players than others. It's not science.
"So in this roundabout way, I finally realized that this was the point. I want to be reminded throughout the music that there are 32 people sitting here playing, rather than 'sections' of players. And, to enjoy the fact that, because every player is different, then every play-through will be different. And in these imperfections, there's other music. It reminded me of when you think there's a radio playing quietly somewhere, and you stop whatever noisy work you're doing--the vacuum cleaner, the car engine--to listen out for it, but by then, it's disappeared too."
--Radiohead's Jonny Greenwood, from the program notes on his orchestra piece "Popcorn Superhet Receiver"
ONE. While working as a dancer at this (now defunct) club in Hollywood, I accidentally kicked open the door of the birdcage I was in and smashed some poor girl's elbow. Instead of apologizing to her, I apologized to the adorable man she was with, saying kind of wantonly, "Oh baby, I'm sorry I fucked up your girlfriend's arm..." I have no idea why I did that.
TWO. The other day Soph and I were stopped at a crosswalk and I edged out into the road a little further than potentially safe. Soph admonished me, and in reply I gestured to a decked-out Orthodox fellow who was standing off the curb a bit further than me and said, "Don't worry, that Hasid will totally get hit before I will." Yes, he heard me. He looked over with a kind of menace I've never actually seen in real life. I felt hexed for the rest of the day.
Voila. Happy Monday.
Yesterday I was about twenty minutes late to my haircut appointment. I apologized to the stylist, saying, "I had something I couldn't get out of."
That something was bed. So I'm wondering if it counts as a lie. In my head I justified it, saying that it was nearly impossible to extricate myself from the warm sleeping embrace of my partner without feeling mortally wounded, so in that case it was as true as anything else... but I fear I do this a lot. Cater my mind's truth to suit a circumstance that is not immediately favorable to myself.
This isn't a confession. I just wanted to see if other people do this with any regularity. No need to tell me... I can sense your pseudo guilt.
Banner day for the belly yesterday. THREE people offered up their subway seats on a crowded car. Admittedly, the first time I allowed myself to look tired and helpless when I entered, but the last two I was feeling energized and steady and they still did it.
Though I noticed there are different levels of commitment to this gesture... if they are really intent on giving the seat up, they will stand up and get out of your way as they make the offer. If they are on the fence, they will scootch forward in the seat with an earnest gaze. But yesterday I had a fellow tug on my sleeve and gesture to his lap, asking if I wanted to sit. I'm sure he didn't mean ON his lap, but he apparently hadn't decided to follow through and I didn't want to pop his little reluctance bubble.
In other news... found out the sex yesterday. We're keeping it a secret, but here's a hint: it's not a girl.
What do you make of this?
An English lesson. A self-defense guide. A light-exercise video.
There's a series.
Do you think out-of-shape Japanese women get mugged so often in English-speaking countries that this was a much-needed public service?
I do have to say, the fellow on the left has made a curious choice by knotting his kerchief beneath his nose. I suppose this is to confuse and confound his victims. If they aren't befuddled already by his use of a butter knife as a murder weapon or the room-temperature snowscape....
Gosh I want to go to Japan.
Love this.
Oh, gmail. If only it were that easy...
These dudes. Seriously. I've dreamed about them both. Separately AND together. Goofy sexy nerdy funny deadpan. Powerful cocktail. (Oh my gosh I dreamed about them again last night! Dreamed I had a steamy make-out session with Jemaine while his girlfriend was in LA. Mama.)
In other news... I just updated my upcoming page. I'm playing in a town near you homes, like it or not. Duck.
During the big snow we had last week, the little girls in the apartment next door built snowmen on the patch of grass outside their building.
Three days later, one of the little girls stood in her pink coat, face to face with her melting creations, bawling inconsolably:
Is that cruel or what?
I'm never having kids.
