documentaries

I like to see stuff that is awesome and then go on ahead and do that. Have that. Make that. Be a part of that.

So next on the horizon as soon as I can afford to buy one, is going to be joy and her little videocamera. Because, you see, dear friends, I am going to be filming it all now. Or lots of it. If you never wanted to be the one in the chair on the documentary, fake looking at someone stage left, slightly diagonal camera angle, maybe a little cigarette on the side table, sweet music playing while you are talking (actually playing, not over-dubbed)....well then too bad, cuz its happening sooner than later if you come around me.

As much fun as I am having with the irfanview software for the pictures I have taken with my camera, I can only imagine what i'm gonna do with film, moving pictures. Please someone tell me there is cool stuff I can do with moving video, as far as "effects"---AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I am too excited. So everyone brush your hair and think of something clever to say cuz you're goin' down in celluloid history whether u like it or not
;)

i wanna shirtdress now

this

plus

this

plus

chucks

plus cardigans

plus blue hair

is

all

i'm

saying

I have been in quest of dresses since I was a teenager. I want shirtdresses, like from the 50s, but in amazing vintage fabrics. duh. Who doesnt, right? Well, when my only body challenge was being 6 foot 1, it was one thing but now that I have filled out, forget about it. Anything I have ever found in a resale shop wouldnt button around my little finger let alone my bod.

So the semi obvious choice of finding the perfect pattern and sewing it reared its head a few times but didnt amount to much. Still need to persue that one more.....

Right now in fashion, there is a great return to the Dress. By fashion I mean old navy or the mall or something---hahaha but still, i do not LOVE the ones I am seeing. A big problem is the current rebirth of the EMPIRE WAIST which, when I say rebirth, I do mean MATERNITY---

these things look like preggo clothes on the skinniest preteens, why on he good earth would I ever want to wear something so heinously unflattering? Mix the highwaist in with the fact that no matter how "plus size" i go, the thing will be all worng and cut for some one half my height (ok not half my height but probably 5 foot 6)

I am kind of getting to the point where I will have to make my own or find someone who will.

tra la la

When you are at karaoke, what is your angle?

To sing a song that you think you will sound really good at?

To sing a song that totally and perfectly fits the evening?

To sing a song that the crowd will surely rock out to?

To sing a song that you love despite any hope of a talented effect?

To sing a song that you think will have a secret message for someone in the room? A Little fun twist of a lyric perhaps?

Tell me what you think!

shine

To rock and be a mother; not necessarily impossible, not necessarily a contradiction, for me a difficult thing logistically...not just to have given birth at some point but to truly live your days with many little children 24-7-365....am I explaining myself or just makin more excuses?....many kick ass incredible women rock hard and have children. How many children and what the whole details are escape me, though.

For me, I didn't pick up a guitar until my first child was 18 months old, and it seems as if the brief sparks of this turning into something I could really do were, like I said, brief. Maybe I suck, I dunno---maybe you feel like a star when you have the stomach flu everyday for half a year. Maybe you crawl out from the bathroom floor and strap on a Fender. Maybe you feel mentally inspired by a steady diet of elmo, stale cheerios, rinsing and wiping little stains, cutting and smooshing tiny lunch foods, and never ever ever sleeping more than 3 hours straight. Maybe I could have tried harder to be able to do all of that, but I did not. Never directly blaming the babies, and ever optimistic (actually 100% confident and patient) that time and music are shapeshifting forgiving malleable things who are not going anywhere, my beautiful guitar sat in its case for years and years. I never felt weird, I never felt worried. I went on to have three more children in 7 more years, and each baby marked very different points in my life. My "comebacks" as I and other veteran mothers call them, have all been very different. Not really measurable in pounds lost or months past, but more in spirit shifts, a re-gaining of the Joy in the Mamajoy, without any kind of tangible severance besides (somewhat) more sleep at night.

What the f am I talking about??

I am ready to jam is all.

I will play just about anything.

I play the kids' guitars, tuning and retuning them until they beg me to stop and then Casey or Charlie will come up and just twist--twist all my tunings away. Usually sounds much better the way they did it. I have been known to play rubber bands. Thats how the old guys did it right?

I play this insanely crotchety bizarre mystery guitar and do not know the name of a single chord. Like I give a shit.

When you listen to the radio, are you like, "oh wowee kazowee this is a jammin Eflat?" Perhaps you do. But I do not at this time. Im not trying to be punk rock or ignorant I just do not, cannot deal with that right now. I need to play songs that are really awesome is all I am saying. I am not detail oriented, as they say. Ill get a secretary for that shit someday, heh heh. You got your big dreamers and you got your people who make little painstaking lists for the big dreamers. Both important folks.

I like songs that sound great and I like to sing. I like to jump and I like to dance. I can say that I am not very good at any of these but the overall effect creates some energies that you do not want to ignore. I am not going to bullshit you and pretend that I dont know that it works all together somehow. It does and it will and thats where Im at today.

I like to rock out and if you put a slow song on the tape you make me I will fastforward past it. Thats all for now.

R.E.M.

Last night I watched the VH1 broadcast of the rock and roll hall of fame inductions. First of all, they just LEFT OUT some collaboration of I wanna be your dog---what the #@@$@$ would make them do that?? I watched this thing for 2 1/2 hours and got screwed out of the finale. Its probably on youtube.

R.E.M. got inducted by Eddie Vedder. Although the idea of Pearl Jam grates me, Eddie is truly a pal, he really is. Poor sweet thing, he didnt kill himself, he is completely true to himself, and here he is, in 2007, with his moonpie sincere Eddie face, his exact same voice, and what looks to be his exact same shirt. Good. I don't want certain musicians to grow and change physically, and Eddie is one of them. He needs so many hugs, dear Eddie. But we arent that close, its not like that for me and Eddie. And thats ok.

His tribute speech to R.E.M. was the closest thing to perfect I have heard in a long, long time. In a world of bloated speeches and idiotic spraying of superlatives, he followed a very different course, describing his intimate discoveries of the band in 83/84, and the way he descibed how Michael Stipe does his magic gave me chills on my chills. For them to play what they played instead of big hits or new songs was just so kick ass. I was beaming from ear to ear to heart.

I think many many people are aware of R.E.M. as this really solid college rock band, I don't know too many folks who dont have a decent amount of respect or like for them--but thats not it at all for me, you see, these guys are my dear, dear friends, and we have grown up together in so many ways. Shy curly Michael, funny hats Michael, the newspaper suit on SNL with me watching so in love on my black and white TV in my childhood bedroom at 12:50 am with the sound off so I didnt get busted for being up so late... Murmur, Fables, Lifes Rich Pageant on the pink boombox on the edge of my bed...GREEN? Jesus Christ the Tourfilm for Green, could I be more proud of my very first true true love? Michael was my first gay boyfriend, before Morrissey, before Bernard Sumner, Andy Bell, Neil Tennant, Martin Gore, various boys at school, or even Andy Warhol, me and Michael were tight. I loved him and he was cool with it. When he got really sassy after Out of Time and started hanging out with all my freinds from the Seattle scene in 92, he didn't forget his roots--or me. I was so proud of my shy sweetie up there in his eyeliner and sparkle pants--you go darlin.
He and Kurt became close, and I hope they shared more than guitar chords. Sweet babies. So sick that he had to kind of hang out with Courtney for a while after, but I would have, too. she was all we had to cling to there for a minute in 94, until we all got our feet back on the ground, or close to it. My feet are still crooked after what happened to K but Im getting there. Time does heal, sort of. (With big big scars.)

To see my Micheal up there with Eddie was bittersweet. I thought it was a painful reminder of so many unresolved early 90's hurts, from Bill Berry leaving the band, to Kurts death, to the shocking disintegration of radio music since about April 6th 1994...but Eddies love and admiration for my Michael really reflected mine, and although I will probably never feel like popping in the Pearl Jam cd outside of a class reunion, I hope that him and Eddie had a great time together that night.

I dreamed about R.E.M. all night last night, and I can't shake the dust off my mind today. I like sleeps like that.

Beautiful swimmers

I went swimming all by myself last night at the local pool. Since I didnt have the kids with me, I felt silly just playing being goofy...but the crazed old people who swim 355 laps intimidated me so I didnt want to play by them either. So I made up this workout thingy:

In the rib-deep water I walked really fast holding a kickboard out in front of me for balance and resistance. It was hard and fun! It seemed to burn my legs much more than swimming and regular swimming still hurts my back somewhat.

I did my water-walking thing for about 45 minutes! I was so sweaty--in the water! Gross! but it was great. I could feel that my bottoms of my feet were getting harshed up and wished for those water shoes all the aerobic grannies had. My old German guy pal and the Mail-lady told me I was doing great. Encouraging! Emabarssing! they were staring at my blue hair laying on my shoulders but did not ask. What is there to ask? "Is your hair blue?" ---clearly. right? Or maybe they thought I had a terrible chlorine reaction--haha.

Near the end of the hour, (open swim is only one hour on Wednesdays) I realized they let you play in the 9 foot part! whoa! So I did that. Just wierd floating and fake underwater walking and stuff. So fun to just be wierd.

I love swimming for 10,000 reasons--but you know what was really cool? There were these two people, a guy and a girl, and they were doing crazy races in the 9 foot--they swam SO fast, they were making crazy waves, blast blast back and forth back and forth. And when they got out of the water, I saw that they were very large people, maybe 3 or 400 pounds. Thats why swimming is so neat! Good for them! I wish I was that fast! I can still swim really fast but only for VERY short distances as my lung capacity is so so pathetic. I practically drown doing 2 laps, seriously. And if I try to leave my head out like some wierd hair-do lady it hurts my neck.

I love the aerobics class ladies who are there before open swim, because they are getting together in community companionship, they are laughing and having fun, they are taking time for themselves, and they are absolutely covered in cellulite, from head to toe. With bright coral lipstick, and wierd aqua-shoes---they were so beautiful! Am I bizzarre? I enjoy the imagery of people who look like that, it really helps me to see blobby stomachs and lumpy legs and happy shining faces of women.

I started on my media saturation with TEEN magazine at age 11 and until I was about 20 a disgusting amount of my time was devoted to these "plumper lips in 15 days" type of publications. In high school I read Cosmo more than my schoolbooks. Curl your lashes while you sleep. Tone that ass. Keep your highlights shiny. Bigger bust. Long lasting eyeshadow. Learn your skin type. Dont outshine anyone. Force him to ask you to prom. Banish odor. Keep your arms supple. Breath fresh. Eyes shiney. Legs tight. Wax. Pluck. Shave. Tan. Low light. High light. De-emphasize. Enhance. Exfoliate. Moisturize. Count calories. Get rest. Pull an all nighter. Remove callouses. The right shade for you. Dress it up for evening. 23456 simple tips. Shock him. Tease him. Taunt him. Tantalize him. CHOP YOURSELF UP INTO 600 SEXY HAIRLESS MINTY FRESH PIECES FOR HIM.

I went to college and dove so hard into Womens studies I couldnt even begin to explain right now.

So here I am, at 31, 80 pounds heavier than when I was "fat", with zits and stretch marks and rolls and blobs and wrinkles and finally feeling super super happy and cute and sexy and mentally OK with all this shit. I really really took the long road to body recovery, and feel as if all those mega feminist things I read about being truly IN your body, and loving youself and all of that are really in my heart now. Its so liberating and super, I feel shy to even discuss it because I have a LOT of social conditioning in me about "dont brag". But I am happy that I feel good, and I feel like when I look in the mirror that I am seeing JOY and I have never felt that in my life until now! Yay!

For the first time, sex and makeup and clothes and bodies are all in a happy positive fun place in my life. I wish I hadnt had to go through such a long stupid road, but I know tons of women will be stuck on media-row for the entirity of their lives, and for them, I am sad.

This has sure meadered, but it is dedicated to the happy wonderful people at the pool last night.

personal imagery

How I did it--

blue it shall be

Im gonna dye my hair blue tonight!
We took a family vote.
Blue was hands down.

Ill be sure to post pics........