Saturday, July 28, 2007

Not a Virgin Fest

Not another music post. Then another night, saw the Drive-By Truckers, afuckingain, 930. Oversold the show, sound problems, walked into a club packed like the last ice floe penguins, except by bobbing and swaying drunk boys. Fewer women, most all of them hot and doing that dance move perfected by Cookie Fleck in Best in Show. Nice monologue about the Atlanta Rhythm Section in the middle. Truckers, I am so into you, but the way I want to see you is in a field in Ocala, with my toes on matted crabgrass, grains of sand embedded in the sunblock on my shoulder blades, and beer foam bitter in the back of my throat.
If you are going to Virgin Fest, check out the art. The art, y'all.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

If There's a Rock 'n' Roll Heaven

Covers of the Angels:
1. Barry White, "Theme from the Beverly Hillbillies"
2. Jim Morrison, "Jive Talkin'"
3. Rick James, "Seasons in the Sun"
4. Ian Curtis, "It's Magic"
5. Freddie Mercury, "Wonderwall"
* The "Barry White vs Gollum" video linked above is set to my favorite Barry White song. It's also the soundtrack to Mickey Rourke in the back of a convertible with the syringe, love it, love it.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Delia Has Not Left the Building

Been seeing a lot of music lately. A few weeks back, it was Richard Thompson. It was a little disconcerting how old both he and the crowd was; some people had teenage kids along. The novel I'm working on (this is the real work, not the erotica, which is the potboiler) is about whether people get too old to rock and roll, whether rock is still valid after the rebellion's simmered down, and subtextually about whether women get too old to fuck, whether sex is still an open door for them after the reproduction's over. And on another level having rock/jazz/pop/hiphop stand in for the American experiment; is that dying too? Yes, it's very pretentious; that's why I have to write about policy and erotica for money.
I wonder when Thompson sings "let me ride on the wall of death one more time" if he means yes, yes, just try me, death, or if he's thinking, well, yes, um, wall of death, but it would be good if it could hold off a bit til I finish this next recording. Or maybe he thinks that the ride and finishing the song are one and the same.
It also put me in mind of the best show I'll likely ever see--Johnny Cash. It was right at the beginning of his final incarnation, just at the release of the first American Recordings cd. it was like the older people there, dressed conservatively to befit the velvet-draped Warner Theatre, were schooling the younger crowd, more used to their feet sticking to beery floors of clubs, in how to do it when someone serious is in the house...he was also the best interview I will ever get to do. At the time he was getting a lot of shit about the violence in "Delia," and he said he didn't really get that, because "Boy Named Sue" was truly the most violent song he'd ever done. What a fantastic day.
Besides by virtue of being an artist, I think he evaded the trap of age by being simultaneously rebellious and wise and chastened--simply human? Though I don't hold with his Christian god, I respect that sense that it's a privilege to live in a state of grace and that on some deep level, it's a gift both freely available and entirely undeserved.
A little ironic, me writing about Delia. "If your woman's can let her run...or you can do her like Delia got done..."

Monday, July 23, 2007

Who Who. Who Who.

To stay awake and look alert in an eye-stabbingly dull daylong conference full of PowerPoints on, say, healthcare administration, I play a game of Who Would You Do? I realize there are more doable than in last year's conference. Does this mean the attendees have changed, or have I? Then, after that, I play a game of I Wonder Who Is Playing Who Would You Do?

Saturday, July 21, 2007

Get a Brand New Bag

Your right to rock an oversize, overpriced designer handbag ends where my 5-year-old daughter's head begins. Yeah, you in the line at the Bethesda bagel shop. And on the Metro. And at the DC United game.
You ladies don't watch where those things are swinging. And they swing right at her head level. So start watching it.
I never got the handbag thing. They're just a hassle. If I can't put it in my bra or a pocket, I don't need to carry it. Shrinks and dream books say handbag=vagina. Does this mean I secretly don't want a vagina? Sigh. Must it always come down to penis envy? I do know I can't ever be an "official" cougar unless I learn to tote a handbag.
I do have big sunglasses. And some important jewelry. That should count for something.
If I did get a handbag, it would be one of these.

Friday, July 20, 2007

Spreadsheet of the Goddess

Washington erotica. Oxymoron? Discuss.
It took me a while to realize my daily life of writing about policy, IT, and business for money was well on its way to giving me cancer. To discover an exit strategy, I did what comes naturally: Lit a candle to the goddess, and made a spreadsheet. Variables included my skill set, background, knowledge, number of years left, what (creative) writing markets are most open to amateurs, which pay the most to (creative) amateurs, what type of writing takes the least time and research (and thus can be squoze into after-hours), what would be fun, and what will not kill my soul.
Conclusion: Erotica set among women 35 and older in Washington offers least risk and greatest potential for return.
The goddess must be crazy.
Has she seen these chicks with the shoulder pads and the sneakers and the bulletproof pantyhose? Saggy-pants sack-suit dudes with seam-split backpacks?
But I know y'all freaks are out there; I feel you. And I'm not talking about diaper-wearers and intern-chasers, either. I mean grown folks who still have some muscle and will and juice. So I wrote one last weekend and sent it off; another due this week. Eight makes a manuscript.
And if that doesn't carve a door out of policy writing, the next option is the "Inspirational" writing market. If I have to, I'll check into that after the fall.