Some thoughts on stuff

Favorite TV Meta-moment

2006-10-20T01:35:31Z

I was watching a rerun of Happy Days many many years ago. I was never much of a Happy Days fan, I think because there wasn't anyone on the show I could either relate to or develop a crush on. But, anyway, for some reason I was watching it. Marion and Howard had gone to see a movie, and we see them leaving the theater and chatting. They walk by a poster for The Music Man starring, among others, Ron Howard when he was very young, even before Andy Griffith. They pause and look at the poster and Marion says, "The little boy in that movie reminds me so much of Richard when he was young!"

Finding Neverland

2006-10-13T03:40:31Z

I watched Finding Neverland the other day and was soundly disappointed. The best I can say about it is that no actor phoned in any of the performances, and the production values were just lovely. Everything and everybody was so pretty and candle lit. Johnny Depp and Kate Winslet gave what you would expect—they made the best of a cheesy and twee script. Dustin Hoffman was a surprise not only because I didn’t know he was in the movie but because he had a very small role, and he was subtle, sardonic, very funny, and didn’t play Dustin Hoffman.

The story was most unsatisfactory in showing J.M. Barrie’s life as inspiration for his play, Peter Pan. I haven’t seen the play, but if it is anything like the novel, then the supposed inspirations in Barrie’s life don’t quite fit with the themes of the story. The movie makes the point that growing up is painful by having the boys lose their mother and father and having Barrie lose a brother (when he was young). This is a point echoed in Peter Pan, and really it’s kind of a “duh” point anyway. However, the movie makes the point that childhood is this wonderful, magical time before you grow up, but here Peter Pan makes things complicated, because while there is wonder and magic in Neverland, there is also fear, pain, and death. And, lest we forget, Peter Pan is not an admirable character. He is heartless and selfish. To grow up is to gain a heart, i.e. the ability to feel pain and therefore empathy. Growing up is what makes us human. But perhaps it’s asking too much of a movie to explore these ideas in any depth.

Sister Carrie

2006-10-09T22:33:52Z

I just started Theodore Dreiser's Sister Carrie the other day, and so far it's better than I expected. I'm not usually a big fan of American literature--so many American authors seem to have inspired Faulkner and Hemingway or been inspired by them, and since I loathe both of them, I'm out of luck with a lot of American literature. Twain, of course, is an adored exception because the man had a sense of humor, unlike the pretentious seriousness of our friends, F. & H.. Dreiser's prose also lacks humor, but it has that certain plain sturdiness of a lot of American literature with being completely arid. It lacks the exquisite gracefulness and suppressed wit of Thomas Hardy, but it manages to not be boring because of Dreiser’s ability to provide just the right amount of detail and the occasional symbol. For example, he refers to whorehouses as “gilded chambers of shame.” The phrase is glittery yet sarcastic and is both indirect and direct at the same time. The story so far is shaping up to be a very American story--a young woman goes to the big city to find work, become successful, and pull herself up by her bootstraps. There are already (I’m only a few chapters in) strong themes of materialism, Puritan industry, and the American Dream. Carrie is handicapped by a timid nature, and, I suspect, will likely be manipulated into ruin, this being a Serious Novel. But, we shall see.

Dang

2006-09-29T01:42:10Z

So I tried posting every day I'm at work, but this just isn't working. The irony is that I wanted to post to make my life a little more interesting. I thought if I forced myself to write something every day then I would notice little things to write about.

It doesn't work.

I think the trick is to actually have to have a life. Then you can post about it.

If I'd only known it were that easy...

2006-09-24T22:50:24Z

Thackeray in Vanity Fair on marriage:

"A woman with fair opportunities, and without an absolute hump, may marry WHOM SHE LIKES."

Is it conversation or poetry?

2006-09-22T02:40:03Z

I was watching Dead Like Me on Sci-Fi this morning (on tape), and I heard one of those kind of exchanges that I dearly love. Rube, a middle-aged man, sits with George, a female teenager who he supervisors in her grim reaper duties. Rube has just received a letter from the dead letter office at the post office—-the letter was sent about 80 years ago and is just now being returned. He is looking at the money when George walks up.

“Is that real money?” she asks.

“It used to be,” he replies.

We understand perfectly what they mean. But what did they really say? Almost every scrap of real meaning in this exchange is understood and not stated. George sees that the money looks something like what she is used to seeing but does not know why it looks different, but the why to her is irrelevant. Her question, unpacked, is as follows: “Does that money have the value printed on it and therefore can be used to buy things?” The definition of “real” here, simplified, is “usable now.”

Rube’s reply also needs to be unpacked, and it’s in a bigger suitcase. Rube understands what George means and replies to her implied question. Other interpretations of her literal question are possible: “Is it counterfeit money?” or “Is it your money,” or “Is it old money” or, if you’re a philosopher, “Does that money exist in the material world?” and possibly others. But Rube picks the correct one because he knows George and her concerns about cash. From his reply, we understand that Rube knows George well, and we get a feeling for the degree of closeness between these two characters.

Even though we understand Rube’s response (and we can’t try to understand it by breaking it down literally because it doesn’t work literally at all), it superficially negates George’s question. By saying “it used to be,” Rube implies that the money is no longer “usable now,” which is untrue. The money is old, but it’s not terribly old, and is therefore likely to have at least the value printed on it, possibly more. The money in his hands could be used in exchange for good and services or new money which could then be exchanged for goods and service. It is “usable now,” but Rube is not lying to George. He is telling her more than what she asked. Rube takes George’s implied definition of “real” as “usable now” and qualifies it even further by answering that it would only have been used in the past as contemporary money is used today. It is “usable now,” but not as easily and naturally as it would have been during its own time. In effect, Rube is telling George that the money is old and not counterfeit, even though she did not ask and he knows she did not ask. His response, because he is communicating with an audience as well, also tells us about Rube’s frame of mind—-his deep sadness for what happened in the past--evidently he had tried to help someone by sending them money, but they never received the money, so its usefulness to Rube has passed. In four of the vaguest words in the English language, Rube says all of this.

And this is why I love exchanges like this. We hear it and we understand it instantly. No one gives it a second thought. It is a perfectly normal kind of exchange that happens every day in the modern world between two people who know each other well. We don’t have to think about it to the extent that I have here, and that fascinates me.

Thackeray on Bush

2006-09-21T02:54:54Z

I started Vanity Fair the other day and am delighted at how colorful and boisterous it is (and a little disturbed at my difficulty in understanding some of the prose--is it me or Thackeray?). Little did I know when I began that Thackeray was to make a scarily accurate description of George W:

"Here was a man, who could not spell, and did not care to read--who had the habits and the cunning of a boor: whose aim in life was pettifogging [quibbling over the unnecessary]: who never had a taste, or emotion, or enjoyment, but what was sordid and foul; and yet he had rank, and honours, and power, somehow: and was a dignitary of the land, and a pillar of the state. He was high sheriff, and rode in a golden coach. Great ministers and statesmen courted him; and in Vanity Fair he had a higher place than the most brilliant genius or spotless virtue."

The Mayor of Casterbridge

2006-09-19T02:41:30Z

Okay, so I didn’t post every night. I should have qualified from the beginning that I’m only going to post from work, if at all, Sunday through Thursday. My connection at home is too slow, and don't feel like writing there anyway. When I’m at home, I like to do home stuff like knit and play with furry mammals.

No particularly profound thoughts tonight, but I did want to point out an entertaining passage in Thomas Hardy’s The Mayor of Casterbridge. Somehow I have managed to get through life without having read Hardy, and this book is making me regret that happenstance.

To be honest, the story didn’t interest me quite as much as the quality of the writing. It's a tragedy in a classic sense; like the quintessential tragic figure, Shakespeare’s King Lear, Henchard, the mayor of Casterbridge, is a deeply flawed yet deeply honorable man whose choices lead to his downfall. Despite the tragic plot, Hardy turns out delicious prose which seems to have been written with a twinkle in his eye and a barely suppressed smile. Here is a passage that delights me in particular:

"’As you seem busy here to-night, and mother’s not well off, might I take out part of our accommodation by helping?’ she [Elizabeth Jane, a principal character] asked of the landlady.

The latter, who remained as fixed in the arm-chair as if she had been melted into it when in a liquid state, and could not now be unstuck, looked the girl up and down inquiringly, with her hands on the chair-arms. Such arrangements as the one Elizabeth proposed were not uncommon in country villages.... The mistress of the house made no objection...[Elizabeth Jane was] instructed by nods and motions from the taciturn landlord as to where she could find her different things....

While she was doing this the wood partition in the centre of the house thrilled to its centre with the tugging of a bell-pull upstairs. A bell below tinkled a note that was feebler in sound than the twanging of wires and cranks that had produced it.

‘Tis the Scotch gentleman,’ said the landlady omnisciently….”

First of all, the simile of the landlady melted and poured into place strikes me as charming and funny and really quite “modern” in its exaggerated qualities. I could imagine Douglas Adams using the same image (but doubtlessly with less perfect economy of words than Hardy has managed here).

This amusing image is followed by a scene-setting description, also expressed in an amazing economy of words, of the racket made by the mechanisms of tenant bell-pulls and how the entire contraption is much noisier than the ultimate ring of the bell. It’s a small thing, but it is a detail that describes perfectly the slightly dilapidated condition of this public house.

And, lastly, don’t you want to be able to speak “omnisciently?” I do.

Men in Trees

2006-09-15T01:42:10Z

Unusually, I had a Tuesday night free (usually working to 11:00), and after watching another cute but mildly disappointing Eureka, started flipping channels in the hope of finding a new show to try out. Success! I found Men in Trees. After all, Anne Heche is totally adorable, and it’s a 1-hour drama, and it’s not another reality show or forensics show or horrific crime investigation show or legal show or sitcom, so why not?

The plot was fairly predictable. Successful girly city-girl gets dumped and finds a new beginning and possibly a new love in a small Alaska town. It clicked along satisfyingly, pleasing not with its inventiveness but with its characters, particularly the women, who were pleasant to listen to as well as look at. They’re attractive without being blandly beautiful, and they say relatively intelligent, non-catty things. We do get the occasional and annoying chick clichés—-the obligatory mention of soy lattes and spinning classes, for example—-and there’s a little Bridget Jones thrown in where women are humiliated in front of and by men and this is supposed to be funny. But these desperate measures managed to be only mildly annoying, because they were carried off by such appealing women. (We love TV, we’re committed totally to working it out with TV, and so we forgive its little faults). At the very least (and I really mean least here), it’s no Grey’s Anatomy. 20 minutes into the premiere episode, Jess and I were alternately groaning and guffawing at the ceaseless stream of predictable plot turns and ridiculous dialogue. Despite its predictability, Men in Trees manages to be charming and entertaining with its clichés, rather than unintentionally hilarious.

Anne Heche as Marin Frist practically glows with beauty, intelligence, humor, and life. She’s so bright she makes almost everyone around her look a little filmy by comparison, particularly the badly cast and gloomy James Tupper as Jack. There is no detectible chemistry between the two, although Heche is doing her best. Tupper doesn’t match her energy level or anyone else’s energy level for that matter. He so dull, and such a broody cliché, that I completely missed his name in the episode and had to go look it up at imdb.com. Why can’t the excellent and extremely huggable Abraham Benrubi (as the bartender still in love with his ex-wife) be the love interest? (I know, I know, because he is not rail thin and artificially buff, and on TV, that equals loser. But can you imagine how much more interesting the show would be if he were the love interest? Just the thought of tiny, bird-like Anne Heche in the giant bear arms of Benrubi fills me with delight). Entertainment Weekly, if I recall correctly, managed to avoid comparing the show to Northern Exposure. (Were they just trying to be nice or is that wonderful show already forgotten?). But, I can’t avoid it. Even if Northern Exposure were not also about a small town in Alaska with odd characters and a delicate mating dance between two attractive leads, it’s still a fine example of romantic comedy. Despite Rob Morrow’s natural proclivities, Janine Turner and he had a fine chemistry onscreen, and Joel could match Maggie’s lively eccentricities with his own vigorous neuroses any day. In Men in Trees, Heche is radiating vast streams of visible energy while Tupper sucks it all up into a black hole of charisma.

I don’t know what will be Men in Trees’ downfall: Tupper or the Friday night time slot. I have hope, as I always do, but I’m trying not to get too attached. The loss of Eyes last season still stings.

I'm still here

2006-09-14T03:52:41Z

I’ve become boring. Maybe I’m not boring to you, but I am to myself, and I’ve never been boring to myself before. Maybe it’s the result of getting old and dim, at least in part, but I suspect much of it comes from my stagnant circumstances. I’m stuck in a town that wishes it were small, its population artificially boosted by prisons and a commuter university full of the worst students I have ever taught in my life. There is no life here: no music, no movies, no good food, and no opportunities to meet people of a similar ilk as my husband Jess and I. We’re trying to leave, but the process is slow and discouraging.

So, I’ve decided to write something every day. I don’t know if I’ll succeed in doing it every day, but I’m going to try. Maybe it will poke my sluggish brain into at least a good stretch before it settles back down to snoozing again.

This won’t be easy. I’m cursed with an utter lack of desire to “put myself out there,” to display and express “me” in ways that come so easily to so many members of the online community. My tendency to write and rewrite endlessly may also prove a problem. I might have to simply go with a second draft now and then. The last two sentences in the first paragraph are annoying me right now, but I’m just going to leave them because if I didn’t, I probably wouldn’t post tonight.

This is it for tonight, but I’m going to spend a little time tonight working on tomorrow’s post.

I really just don't know what to say

2006-03-23T02:28:49Z

http://www.bathroom-mania.com/en/enhome/enfshome.html

Ralph Ellison refuses screen credit for James Whales' The Invisible Man

2006-03-02T01:11:52Z

So I'm working the Circulation counter tonight. (I'm the supervisor on duty from about 4-9 every day at Circ in a university library). A cute little coed bustles up and efficiently hands me her ID and the book she wishes to check out--The Invisible Man by H.G. Wells. "Oh," I say in delight. "Great book. I just saw the original screen version a couple of weeks ago." Giving the little embryo the benefit of the doubt, I add, "The one with Claude Rains."

"I have to read it for my African-American lit class," she responds, smiling.

I pause. Looks like I was extraordinarily free with that benefit. "Hmmm," I say. "I think we might have the wrong book."

She looks doubtful. "I looked it up."

"There's another author, Ralph Ellison, who wrote a book with a similar title. Do you mind if I look it up?" I start clicking before she can answer.

In 5 seconds, the bibliographic record of the library's copy of Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison is displayed. I write down the call number and give it to her. "I think this will get you farther in your class than the other book," I say. "Third floor."

She bounces back with the book in 3 minutes. She's either not embarrassed or covers it well. I think her ignorance of the first title is responsible for her bliss. "Shall I put the first book back?" I ask.

"Sure," she responds with a shrug and heads out the gates.

I wonder how much good karma you get for sparing someone derisive laughter from a professor?

Life with a writer

2006-02-27T01:28:47Z

So I'm laying around last night, tired after a marathon sewing session, with Jess sitting next to me scribbling away, when I hear chortling. Yes, actual chortling. I look at him expectantly. "I just wrote four lines, no FIVE lines, in parentheses," he says delightedly.
I cover my head with pillows. "You're going to get rid of all parentheses before I see that novel."
"What's wrong with parentheses?"
"When was the last time you read a novel with parentheses?"
"Don't change the subject."
As I'm leaving the room, I hear, "I just wrote a parenthesis! And another one! And another one!"

This morning as I'm fixing breakfast, a little voice floats in from the bedroom, "I just wrote one!"

*sigh*

Just in time for Easter....

2005-03-24T16:58:10Z

http://www.fredflare.com/customer/product.php?productid=1158&cat=308

Happy Birthday Douglas Adams

2005-03-11T17:05:34Z

From today's Writer's Almanac:

It's the birthday of the man who gave us A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams, born in Cambridge, England (1952).

In 1979, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy premiered as a twelve-part series on BBC Radio. Eventually Adams wrote it as two novels, or a "trilogy in five parts," as he put it. After 20 years, the movie version of the book will premiere in May 2005.

If you want to get a daily poem and notes about writer's lives, subscribe here:
http://mail.publicradio.org/site/PageServer?pagename=reg_welcome

It's a service of Minnesota Public Radio:
http://minnesota.publicradio.org/

OHYEAH!!!!!

2005-03-09T21:26:37Z

I have been waiting for this for over half my lifetime. TWENTY YEARS, people. And it's almost here. And it actually looks good.

http://hitchhikers.movies.go.com/main.html

TWENTY YEARS.

Super-Size Me

2005-03-08T15:59:59Z

So I saw Super-Size Me on free Showtime last night (but missed the first 30 minutes because I didn't know it was still free after this weekend), and I was saddened but amazed and thrilled. Saddened for obvious reasons, but amazed and thrilled because a nationally released, Oscar-nominated documentary shown for free to anyone with cable or satellite has disseminated the following information:

1. Dairy products are bad for you and even addictive.
2. Food production and distribution is highly politicized.
3. Corporate giants through their lobbyists win and we lose when it comes to food.
4. The government is not protecting your food adequately.
5. Advertising of food is so pervasive that it completely overwhelms, through repetition, good food messages given by parents.
6. Food affects mood.
7. There is a link between America's children's obesity and their failure to perform academically in school. Children in school are getting fed shit and it affects their grades and behavior.
8. Junk food has not just bad but devastating effects on health.
9. Bad food is implicated not just in obesity, heart disease, and diabetes, but depression, impotence, and liver failure.
10.Sugar consumption is out of control.

This isn't news. This info has been around for a very long time. I remember reading about studies done during WW2 that showed a link between decreased consumption of meat (war shortages) and a decreased rate of heart disease. Vast tomes have been published detailed the problems with school lunches, dairy foods, food lobbyists, food additions, etc. The info is all out there, but it somehow doesn't get through the barrage of advertising (and the institution of medicine, which has as its focus cure, not prevention). But never, to my knowledge, has the information been presented in such a widely accessible forum, in an interesting and clever manner, at a brisk pace, without lecturing or condescending. It's absolutely remarkable. And most heartening.

What Dog Are You

2005-03-07T17:22:10Z

An irresistable quiz: What Dog Are You?

Go here: http://www.gone2thedogs.com/ and click What Dog Are You. Answer the questions on the remarkable interface.

Results--

Dog Name
Bergamasco Sheepdog

Origins
Italy. A large robust herding dog with flock-guarding ability. Named after the city of Bergamo in Northern Italy, the Bergamasco is great with children and have been used as therapy dogs for disabled youths.

Personality
Strong, quiet, patient and brave, the Bergamsco is above all an intelligent and calm individual. A friend, never a follower, this dog obeys to demonstrate affection. [I think Jess would agree with that.] Although not instinctively agressive, the Bergamasco is an excellent watchdog because it is protective to family and wary of strangers. Patient, tolerant and attentive to children, it seeks their company and establishes a true friendship with them.

http://www.rarebreed.com/breeds/bergamasco/bergamasco.html

My coat, by the way, has achieved full matting.

In the "be careful what you wish for" category

2005-03-04T15:25:09Z

So for godknowshowlong, we've been waking up to a crappy clock radio. For years, possibly since 1999. My good little Sony clock radio, which had served me well for 20 years or so finally died, and I got a cheap $10 GE clock radio and Bed Breakfast and Beyond or Whatever ("It's red and shiny!"), which did not ONCE, not even for a day, behave correctly. Even though I'd tell it to wake me up with radio, it would just decide on to blast me with the obnoxious electronic buzzer on a whim. Does anything else work on it? No clear radio stations AT all, but does the blasting buzzer work? Of course it does. Then Alarm 1 stopped working, so I moved to Alarm 2. It worked the same damn way, determined to blast me awake rather than stir me awake with the sweet sounds of my favorite staticky and garbled country station. So I trashed it and tried this clock radio this woman gave me at work. It had no back, but it picked up a clear station. Guess what. You know what's coming. Set the thing to radio, and what do I get? Obnoxious electronic buzzer. It got three chances. Then it went in the trash, and Jess and I said in unison that we were mad as hell and wouldn't take it anymore and we piled into the SUV and went to Sears. I found the clock radios. There were cute ones for $20 or less, but I thought uh uh. Not again. We're going for the gold this time. No more static (if we were lucky and didn't get the buzzer). Then I saw it: the words "Sony." Everything got very quiet and still. I looked closer: CD alarm. Ahhhhhh. The price? $50. It was ours.

So now I wake up to my favorite mix CD and have to lie there in bed for 20 extra minutes because it allows me to listen to my favorite songs (shuffled!) with all the clarity of a good quality clock radio. But that's the problem. I don't get up. When the clock radio didn't work, I had to slap it off immediately, and my choices were 1) lay there in the dark with cats and dogs walking all over me or 2) get up. Now the tread of dog and cat feet on my tender ribs and full bladder isn't so bad with the nice music playing.

10 Things

2005-02-27T17:43:13Z

You there, Mr. Bandwagon driver? Please pull over. I'd like to get on.

10 Things I've Done That You Probably Haven't (in no particular order):

1. Found a (live & healthy) yellow parakeet in the middle of the road. (Parakeet was promptly homed).

2. Heard my mother talking to the host of QVC as I was flipping channels. I never watch QVC. That was the only time my mother has talked to the host.

3. Discovered that Jess's ex-make-do slut had hooked up with the guy who desperately crushed on me from high school through college. Jess and she were from Massachusetts. Crusher and I were from Arkansas.

4. Been romatically pursued by the cinematographer for the original Star Trek, Jerry Finnerman.

5. Kept over 50 rats in my bathroom (temporarily, until they were homed).

6. In the process of buying bullets on the Internet for my then boyfriend (unique enough, I suppose), discovered that the seller was the estranged brother of the now-dead husband of the weird woman who used to live across the street from me 30 years ago and who would walk around naked in front of the neighborhood kids who would gather at her house to watch cartoons on Saturday morning.

7. Discovered my parents had moved without telling me the first time I brought my husband-to-be home to meet them.

8. Had lunch with a "friend" who, during the course of the 1-hour or so lunch, among other things implied I was gaining weight, pointed out that I was breaking out, suggested my brother was a little "queer," implied I was cheating on my husband by pursuing a friendship with another male, and called one of my best friends a "slut."

9. Was fired by my vet and told never to bring my pets to her again.

10. Have a husband who proudly claims, "I am your macaroon pimp, baby."

Librarian humor

2005-02-25T22:11:16Z

Overheard at the Circulation desk: "You know Tanya's fear of melting clocks? I looked up the Greek words for 'melting' and 'clock' and put them with 'phobia' and gave her the word."

Today I checked out:

The Gashlycrumb Tinies by Edward Gorey
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0151003084/qid=1109369250/sr=2-1/ref=pd_bbs_b_2_1/104-4736740-3994303

Iznik: The Artistry of Ottoman Ceramics by Walter B. Denny
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0500511926/qid=1109369280/sr=2-1/ref=pd_bbs_b_2_1/104-4736740-3994303

The Practical Encyclopedia of Martial Arts by Fay Goodman
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0754814688/qid%3D1109369338/sr%3D11-1/ref%3Dsr%5F11%5F1/104-4736740-3994303

Thurber's Dogs by James Thurber

Solitude

2005-02-21T18:35:05Z

So is this comforting or depressing?

Poem: "Solitude" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850—1919).

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air;
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go;
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all,—
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
For there is room in the halls of pleasure
For a large and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.

Reading is sexy

2005-02-17T20:56:02Z

Saw a t-shirt similar to this on the Gilmore Girls Tuesday night and had to have it:

http://www.buyolympia.com/q/sid=934360499/Item=readingisbluelong

Ani DiFranco

2005-02-11T18:16:15Z

My young friend Tara, she of the artistic and gloomy-natured sort, a recent college graduate, and an exceptional photographer and amateur flake, invited me to accompany her to the recent Ani DiFranco concert in Houston. I wasn't really an Ani fan when I accepted, but I went along for the experience and the socializing.

I enjoyed some of it. I've always liked what I heard of Ani's on the radio, back when I lived in a place
which had radio that would actually play stuff like hers. (Obviously not Houston, the capital of KSUK radio). I sort of expected her to win me over, but she didn't. I never really liked her lyrics much--they always struck me as trying a little too hard for poetic effect and cleverness but getting bogged down in circular naval-gazing--and even when she tries to be light and funny she comes across as deadly serious. I prefer lyrics that tickle my brain with a little dry wit and irony. And she sings about emotions I don't feel--what's with all the whining about former lovers? I just call mine up and laugh with them, but even if I didn't, I wouldn't see the point in dwelling on them, much less writing songs and accompaniment and going the trouble of getting them published, and then repeatedly singing about them in a staccato, emotional style which rarely varies. Well, maybe I would if someone paid me to do it.

But I can usually ignore lyrics in favor of the music, and I did like her music until I heard 1 1/2 hours of it. What was seasoning on the radio was too much for me. It all sounded the same unless she slowed down. Still, despite all that, she's a powerful performer with tremendous charisma and a warm, goofy stage persona that is very appealing. I wasn't bored. It's too bad so much of her energy dissipated on that empty stage, though. Through sheer force of personality, she was good in spite of having no band (only an upright bass player as accompaniment), but if she had had people and sound and movement and color to reflect and support her energy, she would have been just phenomenal. Also, a band might have added a little variety to her sound, but I might be missing the point--I think her fans like the emotional experience of her lyrics rather than her music.

What I was most impressed with was her musicianship. She's a terrific singer: confident, capable, and moving, even when I was shrugging off the lyrics. She's a technically fine guitar player, albeit not a subtle one, and she and her bass player were tight--they were together with an almost machine-like precision. It lent a "safe" quality to the music, so I didn't have to feel that anxiety I feel when bands get off or sing wrong notes. I was in the hands of a professional.

And, aside from the most hair disasters I've ever seen in one place at one time, the crowd was just lovely. It reminded me of the crowd when Tara took me to see Bitch, formerly of Bitch and Animal, a lesbian folk group (another one of Tara's favorites). The crowd was sweet, polite, gracious, no-smoking, and happy to sit quietly and listen to the music with only a few well-meant interruptive screams now and then. Too bad more lesbians aren't fans of bands I would really want to see live: Fountains of Wayne and Cake, for example. It would make the rock concert experience actually pleasant. (But maybe that's me missing the point again).