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Tuesday, December 17, 2002
FRISBEES AND ACCORDIONS
So I wrote this song called Frisbee, about a conversation I once had about looking for the joy in one's life, especially when you're stuck in the mundanenesses of whatever it is you do all day, especially if you're stuck in dead end situations everywhere and there's not a lot of hope to be found. Not that I personally know that feeling. But I wrote this song, which is really about a dog chasing a frisbee (I should check copyright on the term, though I'll be damned if I could substitute 'flying disc' everywhere in the song. I'm wordy, but not that wordy), and my collaborator (bandmate seems premature, but that's the idea) Donna and I have been pfutzing about with it, and I thought it needed an ending, but it turns out it doesn't, I don't think. I worked out the parts, and yes, there's a coda bit, but I'm done writing words for it. It needs either a french horn or an accordion. (Think 'Layla' as performed by Nick Lowe. Yeah, like that.) But I want an accordion in my band anyways. Accordions rock. They serve as both horn section and keyboards in any arrangement, they look so damned cool, and outside of France, there is no song that isn't made happier by the addition of an accordion. The Frisbee song is jittery and happy, just like I am right now. I won't wish jitters upon you, but the other thing, I give unto you with all the powers vested in me as the self-appointed spokesperson for my generation. I'll post samples at some point next month.
Monday, December 16, 2002
YOU DID WHAT ON THE LAWN FOR CHRISTMAS?
From Salvador Dali's hometown of Figueres, Spain, comes a tradition that inexplicably has not made it into American Traditional Catholic Culture, despite the fact that they've been including these figures in nativity scenes for centuries in parts of Spain. Tradition has it that in every nativity scene, aside from the usual Jesus-Mary-Joseph-kings-and-a-goat, a defecating person is placed, generally just out of sight of the swaddling messiah. (The link goes to a page with many examples, which given the subject matter are kind of cute, all told.) ...(T)he justification for what many might deem an inappropriate presence at such a sacred moment? "He's fertilising the ground and ensuring the wellbeing of the family for the following year. Adding a caganer to the nativity scene is believed to bring fortune and happiness. Not having one is bad luck," explains Joan Rosa. (I wasn't sure if I remembered something like this from some part of my childhood or whether I'd just made it up after hearing about it, so I went and googled it, and sure enough, this is all true. And I've never heard of it. Certainly in my Italian Catholic family I've never seen this, though I'll ask my Grandma about it next week when I go home.) I am doing my best to hold in all cheap punchlines involving the phrase "Holy Shit" and any intimation that such a long-standing (or -squatting) figure would never reveal themselves on the lawns of your average tight-assed North American. But all you people who think this subject stinks can scat. [from the null device]
RELEVANCE
Al Gore has decided not to run for President, and I'm going to pretend it's not a purely strategic move for 2008 and more an attack of lucidity on his part. He doesn't seem like an idiot - he has shortcomings, sure, but lack of intelligence is not one of them - he's just a little opportunistic. (Yeah, him and Madonna.) But even though I don't think it'll help the Democrats much, I applaud the fact that he's exiting the race. Given the heat everyone concerned has to deal with to get to the White House (or anywhere close, for that matter), anyone smart enough to run is smart enough not to run, and it seems Al's actually learned something from that bad year he had. (Yes, I didn't vote for him, but I don't wish him ill or anything. I just don't think he's the best candidate for President.) (Then again, who is? Bill Hicks is dead, Jesse Ventura won't run, George Carlin and Hunter Thompson wouldn't take the gig... I'm only partly kidding.) Also, this last weekend, I saw The Junction Boys, ESPN's story of Bear Bryant and the ten sadistic days he spent in a 110-degree Texas drought in 1954 with his Texas A & M team, driving two-thirds of his players out of the sport and more than a few of the rest into the hospital. The movie (which has some huge holes in it, but as a male-bonding flick it's not bad) climaxes at Coach Bryant's realization that he doesn't have to be Mister Number One Badass, and that fergawdsake it's just football. And with that sense of perspective, he went on to something like 37 straight winning seasons, becoming the standard against which all collegiate coaches are now measured. Anyway, like Eugene McCarthy said, being a politician is like being a football coach; you have to be smart enough to understand the game, but dumb enough to think it's important. I didn't put these two thoughts together to drop this quote in, but they occupy the same parking spot in my little mind, and that whole deflating that bloated sense of self importance thing is something I've been thinking about lately. And like Gore and Bryant, I bet that making sure I understand how important (and unimportant) what I write really matters to the world I live in will keep me clear on why I love doing it so much.
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