| Friday, November 30, 2007 |
| Zap! |
I'm sorry for not succeeding at National Blog Posting Month (I disappointed Rog!) but I did post 19 times in November, which is way more than usual, so I must claim a partial victory. I did enjoy reading the blogs of all the folks who did manage to post every day, though, so congratulations to the winners!
Two days in a row now, I've seen a Zap Car driving around town. Now, most likely I spotted the same car on both days; I can't be sure. But it's certainly the kind of vehicle you notice. (The one I saw was green, but I expect it's even more noticeable if you opt for the model with zebra stripes.) It's tiny, with only three wheels, and looks a lot like the Smart Cars you see in European cities.
The all-electric Zap Cars can go up to 40 mph, so they're not practical for long commutes, but if there's anyplace that's perfectly suited for such vehicles, it's Brigadoon. You can easily live your life without ever having to go outside the city limits, and there are no freeways in town; indeed, the speed limit on most roads here is only 25 mph, so driving the Zap Car at top speed would be illegal. Many locals try to walk as much as possible -- one of the main reasons we bought the house we did was so Joe could walk to work -- but sometimes, you gotta have a car. Today, for instance, I had to take a 20-pound box of CDs to the UPS Store, and then I went to Trader Joe's to buy a couple bags of groceries. Those errands would have been perfectly suited for a Zap Car.
The Zap Xebra costs $10,500 and has a range of up to 25 miles per charge. I wasn't able to find any information online about how many of the cars have been sold so far, but it would be cool to see more of them on the roads around here. Right now I doubt I would drop $10K on a Zap, but one thing about it does tempt me -- it wouldn't be a problem to get it in and out of our garage. |
posted by 125records @ 3:38 PM  |
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| Monday, November 26, 2007 |
| Horrorscope |
I'm one of those people who doesn't believe in astrology but can never resist reading my horoscope anyway. When I received an offer in my email to get a special birthday reading for free, I figured why not, and clicked over and filled out the form. (This is a Yahoo email address I consider "disposable" -- none of my real email goes there.) I had to enter the city of my birth and the exact time I was born. That must make it really accurate, right?
Here's what it said: "You are a gambler and an adventurer at heart, one who loves to take risks, to discover and explore new worlds, and to take the untried path rather than the safe, reliable one. You are an independent soul, freedom-loving, and often very restless. You need a lifestyle that provides opportunities for travel, movement, change, and meeting new people. A steady routine which offers much in the way of security but little in the way of space and freedom is odious to you."
Anyone who knows me must realize how far off the mark this is. I love a steady routine and am anything but a risk-taker. And meeting new people? Online, maybe, but in person -- sorry, no thanks, that's way too scary! And I invariably become homesick when I travel, unless I'm someplace that I'm so familiar with that it feels like home, such as my parents' condo in Florida.
Ignoring the entreaties to purchase my complete reading for just $9.95, I clicked on to the next part: "Cautious, prudent, and rather self-contained, you are a person who approaches life realistically and who is not inclined to take foolish chances or get carried away by the overly optimistic or idealistic schemes of starry-eyed dreamers. In fact, you frequently have a jaundiced view of such things. You are rather worldly-wise at a fairly young age, even something of a cynic. Often the world doesn't seem like a safe, friendly place to you, and you tend to approach life in a guarded, conservative manner. You are generally calculating and careful, and are rarely spontaneous, fluid, open, and childlike. "
Now, every single word of this is true. Cynical, calculating and careful -- that's me! Is there any person who could possibly be described by these two different paragraphs? Who would be guarded and conservative yet also crave movement and change? Granted, it was free and completely computer-generated, but it's still a bit odd. |
| posted by 125records @ 6:22 PM |
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| Sunday, November 25, 2007 |
| House pet peeves |
We've been in our new house for about a month now, so perhaps it's not too surprising that some things are starting to bug me. Not that I have any regrets, mind you -- I still think we made the right decision, although I still feel a little guilty about leaving our neighbors -- but no place is perfect...
1. It's dark. Our condo's western exposure made it so bright in the living room that I had to install black-out shades and tinted film over the windows; despite that, the spines of the books kept in the living room bookcase became faded over time. My office in the new house has a window facing the west, but the neighbors' high growth of bamboo (something I initially loved, as it provides so much privacy in our back yard) ensures that practically no sun at all gets in, and I have to keep a light on all day long. I have a 150-watt bulb in a torchiere lamp, and it still doesn't seem bright enough in here. I'm half-seriously considering buying a sunbox.
2. The water takes forever and a day to warm up. At all the sinks and showers in the house, you have to wait 2-3 minutes for the water to go from icy cold to comfortable. I hate the waste of water, especially now that we're responsible for paying our own water bill; apparently one solution is installing a quick-delivery system, which is something we may have to do.
3. One of our requirements when buying a house was that it have some kind of off-street parking. Our house does have a garage, although we share a driveway with our neighbor (a very nice, quiet, retired single man). Getting the car into the garage is no problem, but because the garage is at an angle, it's almost impossible to back out without running into the neighbor's steps. Net result: we only park on the street. (At least there's a space right in front of our house, and the garage does provide ample storage for 125 Records product.)
4. The master bedroom is upstairs in a converted attic with a sloped roof. I have largely managed to train myself not to clunk my head on the ceiling, although if I have to get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and I'm still half-asleep, it's really hard to remember to duck. |
| posted by 125records @ 5:53 PM |
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| Saturday, November 24, 2007 |
| Outrageous fortune |
Now I know how all those Harry Potter uberfans felt when they finished Book 7: Joe and I have reached the conclusion of "Slings & Arrows," a Canadian TV show we've been watching on DVD. There were only 18 episodes made, comprising three seasons. The program is centered around a southern Ontario Shakespeare festival that might remind theater buffs of Stratford (which I attended once on a high school class trip); we get to know the actors, directors and behind-the-scenes people, who are all neurotic in their own ways. The main character is Geoffrey Tennant (Paul Gross), the festival's artistic director, who is a bit mad -- he inherited the position from the late Oliver Welles (Stephen Ouimette), a man with whom he had a long and complicated history, and frequently sees (and argues with) Oliver's ghost. Then there's Geoffrey's on-again, off-again girlfriend, Ellen Fanshaw (Martha Burns), a 40something actress who has devoted her life to the Shakespeare festival at the expense of her bank account; Richard Smith-Jones (Kid in the Hall Mark McKinney), the "bean counter" charged with making sure the fest turns a profit, and appeasing corporate sponsors; Anna Conroy (Susan Coyne), Richard's long-suffering assistant; and many more. I know these people are fictional, but, well, they became so real to me!
Each season of "Slings" is centered around a different Shakespeare tragedy. In Season 1, Geoffrey stages "Hamlet" with a Keanu Reeves-like screen heartthrob in the title role; Season 2 is about "Macbeth," and while Geoffrey is struggling with the cursed play, Richard hires a ridiculously cutting-edge ad agency called Froghammer to "rebrand" the festival; and Season 3 features "King Lear" with a onetime mentor of Geoffrey's in the lead -- but he's so old and frail, will he survive 'til opening night? The show manages to be both hilarious and poignant, and is as well-acted as you'd expect from a program featuring loads of real-life Stratford Festival veterans, along with bright young Canadian stars like Sarah Polley and Rachel McAdams.
Because "Slings" aired on a niche cable channel in the U.S. (Sundance), a lot of people haven't even heard of it, but those who have seen it tend to adore it -- the New York Times called the show "charming and complex and lovely," and it swept the Canadian Gemini Awards (their equivalent to the Emmys). When I mentioned it to my book club, no one knew what it was except one other person, who, of course, said she loved it. It's available from Netflix, and if you want to enjoy several hours of great entertainment, it's worth adding to your queue. |
| posted by 125records @ 10:46 PM |
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| Tuesday, November 20, 2007 |
| Stop the music for a minute |
Tomorrow is No Music Day, the brainchild of former KLF frontman Bill Drummond. Not listening to music will "challeng[e] people to consider how people view and use music in their lives," and a radio station in Scotland is actually going to stop playing music all day in commemoration of the day.
There are quite a few days when I don't listen to music at all, although of course that just means I don't deliberately play it -- music is always there in the background, whether it's broadcast over the sound system in stores or the theme songs to public radio shows (I still miss Talk of the Nation's original, marimba-heavy theme to the slow, martial one it switched to a few years back). It would be extremely difficult to go an entire day without listening to music of any type -- you'd pretty much have to lock yourself in a soundproof room. After all, you wouldn't want to run the risk of hearing someone's booming car stereo as they drive past.
Friday is the far more well-known Buy Nothing Day, which bills itself as "a 24-hour moratorium on consumer spending." BND is about as futile as No Music Day since most people can't resist the lure of the doorbuster bargains offered at big stores like Wal-Mart. Personally, I'd rather spend the day scrubbing toilets than get up at 5 AM to be first in line at an overcrowded local mega-mart, so I support BND in spirit. I thought it would be a perfect opportunity to go see the new documentary "What Would Jesus Buy?," which, appropriately enough, opens here on Friday; that caused Joe to ponder whether or not spending money on movie tickets is antithetical to the Buy Nothing credo. I said that since going to a movie in a theater isn't really a consumer good, someone celebrating BND could still go to the movies; after all, you're really just renting a seat for a couple hours. But what about stopping at Arinell's after the show for a slice of pizza? Apparently the only way to properly celebrate BND is to keep your wallet tightly shut, according to this FAQ. "Anyone can take part provided they spend a day without spending!" I guess this means that people who depend on public transit have to stay home, then, since they can't spend money on bus or train fare. Oh, it's all too complicated. |
| posted by 125records @ 4:55 PM |
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| Monday, November 19, 2007 |
| Hobie in the backyard |
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| posted by 125records @ 8:08 PM |
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| Sunday, November 18, 2007 |
| Hoofin' it |
Visit this fun & informative web site: walkscore.com
"Walk Score calculates the walkability of an address by locating nearby stores, restaurants, schools, parks, etc." I checked out a few addresses, first of all, of course, my own. It has a Walk Score of 72 out of 100, which is "Very Walkable: It's possible to get by without owning a car." Since Joe and I share a car, it's important to us to live in a place where the other person isn't stranded if one of us is using the auto. We're exactly 7/10 of a mile from both the central library and the natural grocery store down the street, which I think is perfect -- I mean, you want to get at least a bit of exercise, especially if you're buying, say, a scone at the bakery. There's a mini-mart 2 blocks away if you just need to grab a newspaper or a carton of milk.
Our former home had a Walk Score of 76, which seems on the low side to me -- I thought it would be higher. My parents' house has a Walk Score of 26: "Not Walkable: Only a few destinations are within easy walking range. For most errands, driving or public transportation is a must." I guess it depends on how you define "easy walking range," since my dad walks to the market all the time (about 6/10 of a mile). There's also a bunch of preloaded celebrity addresses, such as the apartment from the TV show "Friends" in New York (perfect 100 -- duh; I'm sure all of Manhattan scores a 100) and President Bush's Crawford ranch (a 0, but come on, it's a ranch, you're not going to find a Starbucks down the street). The creators of the site are former Microsofties so of course they included Bill Gates' house, which scores a 6.
Calculate your own Walk Score and post it here in the comments section! Do you think the results are accurate? Discuss. |
| posted by 125records @ 3:41 PM |
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| Saturday, November 17, 2007 |
| The secret life of a stuff-a-holic |
My mom called me on Friday afternoon to tell me that I just had to watch that day's "Oprah" show. It was a program titled "Inside the Lives of Hoarders," or more specifically one hoarder, a Maryland woman named Sharyn who had managed to amass 3,000 pairs of shoes, 3,000 handbags and an ungodly number of stuffed animals and other knick-knacks. The organizational expert on the show was Peter Walsh, a fave of mine from his now-defunct TLC show "Clean Sweep." (BTW, I was a little disappointed to see that his next book is a diet tome called Does This Clutter Make My Butt Look Fat? Aw Peter, are you trying to be the new Dr. Phil? Maybe that's what hanging out with O does to you.)
Anyway, the show -- a two-parter; unfortunately I missed the first part, but there's a summary online -- was riveting TV. I was not the least bit surprised to hear that clutter leads, in something like 80% of cases, to health problems. I've written before about how my own decluttering (not to mention packing to move) has made me sick; I'm highly allergic to dust, and I believe that breathing in too much of it compromises my immune system. Once all of Sharyn's junk was removed from her home, Peter Walsh discovered black mold, and his own work in the house made him ill -- "During the cleanup, he says he developed a fungicidal infection that spread from his leg to his scalp." Yuck!!!!!
Now that we've been living in our new home for almost 3 weeks, I've noticed that there is much less dust here than there was in the condo. I guess that's probably because we don't have the popcorn ceilings here that were in the old place, and we're not so close to a major highway. Good news for me, anyway.
Even though I'm nowhere near as bad as Sharyn -- that woman is like the Babe Ruth of clutter, and I'm merely a pee-wee leaguer -- the "Oprah" show reinforced my determination to try and keep as much "stuff" as possible out of the new house. It's always been extremely difficult for me to integrate new items into my environment, and as a result it can take several months for me to put away birthday or Christmas gifts, unless they have a really obvious home, like, say, the bookshelf or sweater drawer.
I'm going to try to pare my CD and book collections down even further, although it gets to be more and more like pulling teeth. I was pleased to note that eMusic finally added the New Pornographers' Challengers album, since I'd resisted buying the disc, preferring to wait for the digital download. I know the fidelity isn't as good, but I'm kind of tin-eared anyway, and it's much easier to store the files on my hard drive than to find room for a CD. Anyhow, I wasn't expecting to like the album as much as I do -- I mean, it's the band's fourth disc and I figured it would kind of be more of the same. But it's really excellent and I think "All The Things That Go To Make Heaven And Earth" might be my favorite NP song yet. You can hear it on this NPR All Songs Considered podcast of the NP's recent D.C. gig, though I think the studio version is better -- the live rendition doesn't have that nifty flute bit; at least I think it's a flute -- it could be a synthesizer that sounds like a flute. That's the one disadvantage of not having the physical product, I guess: no musician credits. |
| posted by 125records @ 5:46 PM |
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| Friday, November 16, 2007 |
| The undaily grind |
Earlier today, my mom asked me, "Weren't you supposed to be blogging every day this month?" and I had to admit that as was predicted a few days ago, I just couldn't hack it. Props to pals like Rog and Steve who are managing to do it, but I couldn't handle one more obligation in my life.
Another thing I apparently can't hack: drinking martinis. As I've previously reported, despite my love of martini glass iconography, I don't drink 'em. I was hanging out with some friends at a favorite watering hole and the featured drink of the day was the Journalist, which is pretty martini-like as it features gin and vermouth, along with a few other ingredients (triple sec, lemon juice and bitters). It was served in a beautiful conical glass, but it was just too, too strong for me and I wound up having to give mine to one of our compatriots. I ordered a glass of tap water instead. From now on I'm sticking to foofy girl drinks with umbrellas and extremely lopsided fruit juice to alcohol ratios.
Everything -- everything! -- has been moved out of the condo, which is due to close on Wednesday. What a happy day that will be, owning just one home and not two. The place looked so weird the last time I saw it, all empty. I guess it's sort of like looking at a dead loved one at a funeral visitation -- the person is recognizable, but the soul is gone. Luckily, we're pretty well settled into the house by now, which is a far, far better place. |
| posted by 125records @ 9:05 PM |
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| Sunday, November 11, 2007 |
| You're my Venus, you're my fire |
Just as I had always intended to get to a Lamplighters show and finally did, I have for years thought I should check out local theater company 42nd Street Moon, which revives old, forgotten musicals in staged concert versions (i.e. with extremely minimal set design, and actors often holding scripts). I thought it was such a good idea -- I mean, everybody revives "Damn Yankees" and "The King and I," but who else is going to bring back the 1929 Cole Porter nugget "Fifty Million Frenchmen"?
I was finally inspired to buy tickets for a Moon production when I saw that they were reviving 1943's "One Touch of Venus," a musical with a score by Kurt Weill and Ogden Nash. When I was in high school, I was obsessed with a series of books called "The Best Plays of [Year]." I checked them all out, and read all the plays and musicals. With some of the musicals, such as "Kiss Me Kate" or "Oklahoma," it was easy enough to find the scores on LP, but I also enjoyed reading the obscure ones like, well, "One Touch of Venus," the story of a statue that comes to life and falls in love with the humble barber who accidentally released her from the spell that had imprisoned her in marble. It was made into a movie with Ava Gardner in the title role, but the film didn't include many songs from the original score.
Anyway, I dragged a somewhat reluctant Joe to see the play -- it was a Sunday matinee so the average age of the audience was probably around 80 -- and happily, we both found it incredibly charming. It was actually better than I'd thought it would be. The cast was excellent, especially the gorgeous and charismatic Nina Josephs as Venus; I suspect everyone in the audience, male and female, envied Anil Margsahayam (in the role of Venus's barber/rescuer/love object) at least a little. The show was staged in the intimate Eureka Theater in San Francisco, so the singers were able to perform without artificial amplification, always a treat.
Plays such as "South Pacific," "Showboat" or "The Sound of Music" seem to belong to the ages because they're so frequently revived, but there's a unique pleasure in seeing a show that hasn't been performed much since its original run -- it's almost like time travel. The company's next play, "Oh Lady, Lady!," is even older, dating from 1918, with songs by P.G. Wodehouse and Jerome Kern. 42nd Street Moon is a small Bay Area gem, and I hope to see more of their shows in the future.
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| posted by 125records @ 8:12 PM |
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| Saturday, November 10, 2007 |
| Unboxed |
My mom is visiting to help us unpack. Well, both my parents are here, but my mom is the unpacker of the family. She is like the Energizer bunny -- she can go all day without stopping, except to eat (usually, food that she has cooked, in between unpacking boxes). I wish I had half of her drive. If I did, Interbridge would be a rival to Google and I'd have a private jet just like Sergei and Larry's.
Most common thought running through my mind during the past few weeks: I have too much stuff. |
| posted by 125records @ 9:56 PM |
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| Friday, November 09, 2007 |
| Tired |
This is how things have been going lately: tasks that should be easy are instead incredibly time-consuming and difficult. For instance, I needed, rather urgently, to buy a new set of tires for our car, a so-called "classic" Prius. (The "classic" designates the 2001-03 model years, before the car was completely redesigned by Toyota.) I called the closest tire store and was told that the tires we needed were, ominously enough, on national backorder. So I got to spend a half-hour online researching tire options for the Prius, and then calling around until I found a place in Berkeley that had the special high load bearing tires that the car requires.
There are a lot of things I wish I could write about here, mainly about the process of selling our condo, but I have to remember that one has to be very circumspect about what one says in this most public of fora. So I'll just say that I hope you, dear reader, never have to sell a piece of property in a buyers' market. |
| posted by 125records @ 8:20 PM |
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| Thursday, November 08, 2007 |
| Get thee behind me, devil |
The Tampa Bay Devil Rays just changed their name to the Rays. Instead of the devil ray of yore, the new team logo features "a bright yellow sunburst invoking the magnificence of life in the Sunshine State."
I always get a kick out of watching away games played in St. Petersburg -- yes, the Rays don't play in Tampa, they play across the bay in neighboring St. Pete -- because it always looks like the stadium is 95% empty. It must be a rough life being a Rays fan, sitting alone in the stands and cheering for a team of perennial losers. But now they have a new logo! That'll freshen everything up and help build excitement, right?
Good comment from the St. Petersburg Times sports blog: "It's bad enough they took 'devil' off but then they had to take the whole stingray thing away and turn it into rays of sun? That's pathetic. Sheesh. What is this, the Up With People of baseball? Sting Rays attack. Rays of sun softly float to the earth and then prematurely age you." |
| posted by 125records @ 10:06 PM |
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| Wednesday, November 07, 2007 |
| I miss you, Jon and Stephen |
One of the things we bought for the new house is a brand-new TV for the bedroom. I've been anti-TV-in-bedroom, but the new place has a built-in TV cabinet so you can close the doors when you're not watching it. The whole concept of the bedroom TV was so we could put on our jammies and watch "The Daily Show" and "The Colbert Report" before going to sleep. Cozy! We even bought another high-def TV (smaller by far than the monolith), because, who knows, maybe someday Comedy Central will start broadcasting in HD, and it's best to be prepared for that eventuality.
Except we haven't gotten any use out of the TV yet, because of the writers' strike. The cabinet doors remain tightly closed. The last strike, in the late 1980s, lasted for several months; David Letterman, my late night personality of choice at the time, eventually came back without his writers, and relied on features like "Hal Gurnee's Network Time Killers." He could probably do something similar again. I can't imagine Stewart or Colbert going back on the air without their writers, however, since both shows are extremely dependent on their writing staffs. I love watching Jon interview authors and thinkers like Fareed Zakaria or Neil deGrasse Tyson, but c'mon, no one wants three segments of that. And where would Stephen be without the cleverly-scripted "Word" or "Threatdown"?
I'm not always pro-union, but in this case, I think the writers have a point -- they should get a cut of the profits from new media, which could one day be immense. Without writers, all we are left with is a turned-off TV. |
| posted by 125records @ 11:14 PM |
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| Tuesday, November 06, 2007 |
| Keep your French to yourself |
I have to write fast because Blogger.com has a scheduled outage in 20 minutes, and I don't want to lose my NaBloPoMo credential already! (Though when I asked Joe who out of our group of friends would be the first to skip a day, he said, "You." And he's probably right.)
On Sunday night, we went to the Palace of Fine Arts in San Francisco to see a double bill of guitar music from Mali, Vieux Farka Toure and Tinariwen. French is the musicians' native language and Vieux in particular was struggling with his English until he decided to just speak his mother tongue. I had a few years of high school French and was able to understand about half of what he said, but several members of the audience were obviously fluent in the language and wanted to make sure everybody knew it. Throughout both sets, between songs, people would just call out randomly in French -- banal stuff like "Thank you for coming out this evening" or "Bravo for the music of Mali!" The French ranged from excellent to something akin to Margo Martindale in "Paris Je T'aime" (the movie will be out on DVD next week, and is worth a rental -- you'll know what I mean after you've seen it). But it was thoroughly obnoxious and pretentious. I don't yell out Swedish phrases at Hives or Soundtrack of Our Lives gigs! |
| posted by 125records @ 10:40 PM |
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| Monday, November 05, 2007 |
| Civic duty |
Regular readers know that jury duty is an annual tradition for me. I was especially concerned about having to go in this year, because I had been summoned to the far-off Superior Court in Hayward instead of the more conveniently located, BART-friendly courthouse in Oakland. Well, I'm pleased to note that while I did have to haul my butt down to Hayward and spend a while sitting around the jury room, I was eventually excused. Even though it's supposed to be a random selection, it seems like the vast majority of the names called were from the beginning of the alphabet -- there were lots of Cs and only one other T called, for instance.
On the back of my jury form, which I had to turn in when I reported, there was a space for change of address. I duly filled it out, so they can know where to send the summons in the fall of 2008. I never get tired of watching that inspiring video they always show, "Ideals Made Real"! And if I ever do make it onto a jury, that $15 a day payment will be quite a windfall!
The person who was in charge of giving us our instructions told us that even though they only needed jurors for one trial, they overbook "just like the airlines" because about 50% of people summoned just don't show up. I wonder what happens to those folks? Is there really a penalty? According to this 2004 article from the East Bay Express, the court can fine no-shows up to $1,500, though at least back then, it sounds like there wasn't a lot of enforcement going on.
Googling "how to get out of jury duty" yields a bounty of hits -- "You need to present yourself as unstable and stubborn to avoid any and all jury duty," suggests this article, and this one (by a two-time juror who feels "only embarrassment at having my time stolen from me with no compensation given")" is pretty funny. Unfortunately, I'm such a good little citizen that I'll probably keep showing up. At least I was able to get through a bunch of the book I'm reading, Michael Chabon's The Yiddish Policeman's Union. |
| posted by 125records @ 4:05 PM |
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| Sunday, November 04, 2007 |
| Control |
We went to see "Control," the new Ian Curtis biopic, yesterday. Curtis was the singer of Joy Division, a gloomy post-punk band from Manchester; after he killed himself at the age of 23, his other bandmates went on to form the much-more-famous New Order. I have no idea if Kids Today have any idea who Curtis was -- or even New Order, whose career peaked in the 80s, for that matter -- but back when I was in college, Joy Division had a pretty big cult following. The first poster I made for my college radio show featured the rather grim but beautiful photo from the cover of Closer, and one of my fellow DJs had actually purchased a ticket to see Joy Division on their ill-fated U.S. tour (Curtis committed suicide just a couple of days before the band was due to leave for the States).
With its two-hour running time and downer of a subject, I don't think I'd recommend "Control" to anyone who isn't already a Joy Division fan, but for anyone who obsessed over their slim output (two LPs, a couple 12" singles and a handful of posthumously released outtakes and live tracks), it's a must-see. I don't listen to Joy Division very often anymore but the music is so familiar to me that it feels like part of my DNA. The actors who played the band members in "Control" actually played all the songs, and do an excellent job, even if Sam Riley's voice isn't quite as deep as Curtis's. I found the most illuminating aspect of the film to be the way it tied Curtis's lyrics to the things that were going on in his life at the time; it made me listen to the songs in a new way.
The film sent me back to a time that I'm sure most teens and 20somethings would find unbearably primitive. When I was in high school and college, back in the Pleistocene epoch, if I was curious about a band, I couldn't just surf over to their MySpace page or download some tracks on iTunes; it was much harder than that. I can't remember where I first read about Joy Division -- probably in Trouser Press or another adventurous rock mag -- but I do recall that I had to ask my friend James to pick up their "Love Will Tear Us Apart" 12" for me at a record store near his college since none of the shops in Grand Rapids carried import singles. The first time I played it, I vividly remember thinking that my record player must have been set at the wrong speed because Curtis's voice was so low and droney. Eventually, though, I grew to love it, and tracked down the rest of their catalog. The vinyl was packaged in cryptic sleeves with no photos of the band or, in the case of Unknown Pleasures, not even the song titles.
The funny thing is, I'm actually pretty glad things were like that when I was a teen. There's no aura of mystery and glamour anymore. I remember reading about how great the Velvet Underground were and ordering The Velvet Underground and Nico from a record store that advertised in the back of Rolling Stone, getting the package in the mail, putting it on the turntable for the first time and being blown away. The disadvantage, of course, was that no one in my high school was listening to the Velvet Underground or Joy Division, and if the Internet had been around I could have logged on and found a community of like-minded souls.
In case you're curious, as I was, what became of Natalie, Ian and Deborah Curtis's daughter who was only 1 year old when her father killed himself, she's a photographer. Here is an interesting article by Natalie about her experiences on the set of "Control," and Natalie's self-portrait. |
| posted by 125records @ 4:15 PM |
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| Saturday, November 03, 2007 |
| Ovenmania |
 I need to revisit the oven issue because my mom swears that our oven is perfectly normal and not small. Apparently, the dimensions of our oven are standard for a 24" wall oven. However, the oven in the condo was similar to this one, which boasts a 24-inch interior width and almost 2 additional cubic feet of capacity. It's all in what you're used to, right?
I have had some requests (OK, a request) to post some photos of the house, so here is a pic of the ovens in our new home. The Yao Ming drawer is right above the microwave. At first we thought we'd want to replace the microwave because it looks so old, but it actually works really well. Underneath the microwave is the [small/normal-sized] oven. Bottom left is the kitchen island, which houses the gas cooktop.
The kitchen is by far the largest one I've ever had. The island has an extension where you can sit and eat or read the paper, and when we initially saw the house, the previous owners had three sleek black barstools there. I thought they were so fabulous that I managed to find them online and ordered them. When they arrived, it made perfect sense that they were made in Italy, because these barstools are not made to accommodate big American butts -- they are designed for slim Italians who will perch in them while they smoke and sip cappucinos. They're still fairly comfortable, but molto piccolo. |
| posted by 125records @ 7:41 PM |
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| Friday, November 02, 2007 |
| Raiders Nation |
In past years, the Raiders' inability to sell out games has been a source of frustration to many local football fans. After all, according to NFL rules, if the game doesn't sell out 72 hours in advance, it will be blacked out in the local market and not aired on TV.
Therefore, I was a little surprised when Joe started cheering "YES! YES! The Raiders game didn't sell out!"
It turns out that if the hapless Raiders had sold out their Sunday game vs. the Texans -- both teams are at the bottom of their respective divisions -- local fans wouldn't have had the chance to see the undefeated Patriots take on the undefeated Colts.
So, congratulations, Bay Area football fans! You won't be able to watch your local team play on Sunday -- and you couldn't be happier about it! |
| posted by 125records @ 11:51 AM |
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| Thursday, November 01, 2007 |
| Drawer built for a giant |
I don't know if I can keep up with NaBloPoMo (which I learned about from yellojkt), but it's 11:20 PM on Nov. 1, so if I'm going to give it a try, I'd better hurry up!
I discovered a couple of very odd things in our new kitchen. The kitchen is laid out differently than any I've ever had before. The cooktop and stove are separated, which is how they were at my grandma's (maybe it's an old-house thing). The microwave and the oven are built into the wall. Above those appliances is a drawer. Yes, above. I measured, and the bottom of the drawer is about six feet from the floor. You would have to be Yao Ming to use that drawer without standing on a stepladder! What on earth should I put in there? I guess it would be an appropriate place to park useless kitchen tools that you don't want to donate to Goodwill but never want to see again. If anyone gives me a ravioli maker or Halloween cookie press, it's going in the drawer!
Another strange thing: the oven is tiny. We were going to bake some crescent rolls a couple days ago (you can tell what a gourmet cook I am), and had them nicely laid out on what I thought was a completely normal sized cookie sheet. Just one problem -- it didn't fit in the oven. The inside space is only about 19" wide. Good thing I didn't plan on roasting a big turkey this Thanksgiving. Now I need to buy new, miniature cookie sheets for my grown-up Easy-Bake Oven. Also: according to my oven thermometer (a useful gadget that will never wind up in the Yao Ming drawer!), the temperature inside the oven is about 75 degrees higher than the setting. So if you want to bake your crescent rolls at 375, I guess you have to set the oven for 300. My old oven was perpetually too cold, so this will require some getting used to. |
| posted by 125records @ 11:17 PM |
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| About Me |
Name: Sue
Home: San Francisco Bay Area, California, United States
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