an open love letter to mr. steve craig - because i promised it would be here and because it was Bob Mould day yesterday:
let me begin by confessing to you, sir, that in the days of sean demery, i did not pay you near the attention you deserved. my radio time was limited during those days we call university, and it was he who held control of the mic and the playlist... i know you understand.
but one fine day, as i commuted from internship to dreary room i called home, graduation looming just ahead, something amazing happened.
(correct me if i am delusional and it was in fact later in the afternoon)
a whole retroplex, then a mere house, was dedicated to your interview with mr. andy partridge. that was the day i went from acknowledging xtc, to embracing them with the fervor only a new fan can. and you sir, are the only radio personality in all of this city that i can tell - and i have been here my entire 28 years - who would have ever made that possible - who, for that matter, could have even told me who that goofy swindon bloke was... much less given up an hour of your airtime to maybe one of the most incredible and delightful and just damn entertaining radio interviews i have ever heard.
(i arrived back at campus a good 20-30 minutes before that interview was over, and i sat in my car and listened until andy was well out the studio door)
my ex-boyfriend will contest that he is responsible for my fandom, but all i need do is remind him of this - to him mythical, as he was stuck living a dreary existence in cleveland, ohio at the time - interview and he is shot down. (you'll be proud to know that in 2002 he and i traveled to the uk and spent two days in swindon "searching for andy partridge" to no avail, only to discover we were staying less than a couple miles outside his house... ha ha)
that was when my love affair began.
let me say it's not really that hip to listen to your employer these days, unless you're a 16-year-old who listens to that fallout boy nonsense, but as a wise person once wrote - and he may be reading this now - those who are really hip don't care and do it anyway. and i will also readily grant that everything kinda jumped the shark so to speak when our beloved sean went to the other coast (he did head out to CA, am i right?)...
but despite all the moments that that station has made me groan or spit or roll my eyes... i have never failed to make every effort to listen to your show every day. and even if i can't take the regualr rotation playlist any longer without secretly plotting to rid that poser from the killers of his pretty pretty mane of hair, i will not miss retoplex if i can help it.
the fact that i email you weekly with requests and chides probably makes this point all too clear to you. but you humor me in these endeavors - you actually read your listener's emails AND you respond - that's a man who loves his job. even if you do keep confusing jason and dave faulkner. (now play me some jellyfish, dammit!)
and let it be known to my 3 other readers that on my birthday last year this poor soul found himself stuck when my "aforementioned hussy" and i both requested songs for me... he ended up secretly plotting with meg and i got my favorite - and his he'll have you know - cure song for my 4o-somethingth birthday (though it was about 2 decades early)
and that once he accidentally hit the wrong channel or something and suddenly there was a snippet of some serious old school xtc blaring through in the middle of regular rotation. ok, well it was senses working overtime, but still - at like 1030 in the morning or so? that's awesome.
these single incidents alone are not the only reasons i love you, mr. dj. they are simply strong representatives of your utter f***ing coolness. what truly make you the best radio personality this town is blessed with are these: you are a total rock geek (like me, only a bigger pallet). you love this stuff and you know this stuff. and you have ecclectic and incredible taste. you expose listeners to some great things that they may never have encountered or may never encounter otherwise or may simply forgotten they encountered many moons ago with just an hour a day of total artistic license.
i returned to split enz because you brought them back to me. same for dramarama. and god.... the producers. i have loved music since i was a little girl and you brought a lot of that back to me with huge helpings of other stuff to try out. i would never have loved bob if you didn't love his stuff first.
so thank you, mr. craig. you totally rock.
sincerely,
heidi m b
ps - when you see that demery guy - tell him he's missed.
i once said that every woman should have at least 10 gay men in her life.
then i retracted that statement.
every woman should have
my 10 gay men in her life.
but she can't have them... i already share them half a dozen or so other women.
incidentally, those are also the same half dozen or so women every woman should have in her life.
just a reminder that life is nothing without friends. and mine never cease to amaze me.
my hussy broke a mirror i think. she's having a rough year.
here is a snippet of the email i sent her today:
(Identify theft + stolen car + smashed window + broken foot + sick Dillon + boy trouble + a near-broken back) + (all in the same year) = I am buying you a drink
and that's without factoring in the Ikea incident or that time she accidentally ate meat!
i am experimenting here, but i promise to try and keep it interesting.
today i am wearing what d claims (not verbatim, but rather in so many words) is the geekiest shirt i own. i don't have a photo, but you can get the idea
here.
nik has no idea how right she may have been she said "your ipod speaks to you."
"don't travel on trains" indeed. today (well, yesterday) at least. you might just faint.
after posting my latest p.a. moment yesterday, i worked my workday and then caught the train home. i have to change lines downtown where i usually call the boy who will then meet me at our station to walk the last little bit home.
there were some delays yesterday as they were doing some rack maintainance and single-tracking the east-west lines.
i had felt a little funny all week. the smells you find in the marta station were certainly not helping. but when the train stopped just a half-mile or so from my station to wait for another train to clear, what i was not ready for was a sudden onset of nausea, headache, weakness, and my favorite vertigo.
it all comes back to u2, huh?
everything had gone slightly yellow and i had a feeling it wasn't going as quickly as it arrived. i quickly grabbed my bag to grab my phone to call the boy to say drive to the station. softly, as not to alarm any passengers who might be inclined to feel concern, i said can you take the truck and meet me at the station, i think i might faint.
of course, this not being a big word in his english vocab, i had to repeat it numerous times... and i saw in my peripheral several sharp movements of the head. how embarrassing.
the car stopped and the doors opened up on my station just in time for the worst of the vertigo to hit, but i made it to a bench and immediately began removing as many items of clothing as decency allowed, and tried to not think about puking. might i add, yoga breathing comes in really handy here.
verdict: dehydratrion and overheating. but damn was that scary.
when your ipod speaks to you, listen.
paranoid android moment alert:
on the train this morning, player on shuffle, at the hussy's urging i was into the second chapter of Battle Royale. i already had a weird, creepy feeling inmy stomach.
just before my stop, "numb."
as i stepped out of the car and onto the platform, the edge singing/speaking, "don't travel on trains..." and everything suddenly my life fell into the rhythm of bono's wailing in the back.
i was a very bad girl yesterday, as the russian would say. but let it be known he had a hand in it himself.
yesterday was my best friend's birhtday. she took the morning off and i bought her breakfast, where i saw her do something i imagine i shall never see again and have been sworn not to speak of... but let's just say my inner commentary was all about how i could still never be a vegetarian.
over lunch we discussed her upcoming galavant about europe. i am set on buying her a birthday gift that will aid in her travels next month... i have to say here that i am both believably envious and really really excited for her. 7 weeks abroad, primarily solitary is a brave move. my great hope is that while she is there she will finally convince herself that spending a year or so there studying is worth any amount of money despite what may or may not come of it in the end. the life experience alone - at the risk of sounding corny and cliched - is/will be indeed priceless. there's everything to be learned from immersing yourself in another culture for an extended period of lifetime, even if it's simply that you're happier right here at home.
nevertheless, i digress. once i had all but polished my plate of really incredible corned beef hash and eggs, we set off to the big, schmancy mall up the road with the big, schmancy apple store where with the aid of the aforementioned best friend, my loving parents, and my russian's student i.d. i finally became the proud owner of my own ipod mini. it would seem to make more sense that someone who worships music as i do should hold out until apple produces the 4000G model, but the more i mulled it over, the more overwhelming it became. so as not to be a glutton, i just got the mini and figured i would simply have to learn to control my audio appetite.
then, with the ruski's help, i persuaded k to skip out on her half-day of work and go to the movies with us instead. while merely ok by gilliam standards, the brothers grimm was rather fun and worth the afternoon spent on it. were i a critic compelled to compose a review for the sake of my livelihood, it would go something like this: gilliam put some hot guys in a pretty, if not slightly shallow film so he could make some quick money to finally get around to finishing his don quixote masterpiece. and god bless him for it!
but good movie or bad, i still convinced my best friend to skip work and it ate at her conscience throughout it i could tell. but i stand firmly by my stance: it WAS her birthday, and she's quitting that damn soul-eating job in a month anyway. so fuck it!
the rest of the night, i left my cell phone off, played with my new toy, finished a good book, and continuing through this very moment, hid from the world.
with my russian.
after i had put away entirely too much really incredible kosher corned beef hash and eggs, we took a trip to the apple store where she aide
woke with my third migraine of the week this morning, so i called in and attempted to sleep it off with four extra hours and some high-potency ibuprofen... to no avail, as i awoke with the sensation that the right side of my head had been kicked in with the steel-toed boot of a football hoodlum.
for the record i root for liverpool.
thus, i was forced to break out the excedrin migraine and lay back down with some daytime tv.
i hate daytime tv. i do not have cable. if you have ever been forced to endure this - say if you threw your back out and were futon-ridden for three weeks, which my sound
incredibly familiar to certain hussies reading this - you need not ask why.
if you are fortunate enough not to have had to do this, let us just say this:
the world does not need another:
baby food brand, medical assistant program from a "business college", domestic cleaning invention, internet degree program, soap opera actress, or daytime talk show host.
except charlie rose. thank god for charlie rose. my sick-day television savior.
i was fortunate enough to stumble upon a rerun of charlie's interview with my favorite actress ever (jessica lange) this morning... and i was reminded of why that man has been on the air for so long. he's a brilliant interviewer. enough praise without being a brown-noser. enough digging without prying. and he's fun. and his intrviews look like they're having fun.
i learned so much in the 15 minutes i caught of this episode about mrs. sam shepherd, and it only made me love her more.
i should elaborate more here, but truly i couldn't do it justice.
so instead i will encourage you to tune in to some good ole public television and look out for the charlie rose show. if you can catch the interview with jessica lange or even the one with christopher guest or peter jackson, you'll see exactly what i mean.
again i say, i love you charlie rose.
as is often the case, i had a song stuck in my head this morning.
the boo radley's most famous single - if you can even use that term in regards to them anywhere besides the island kingdom from which they originated - is a song titled "Wake Up, Boo!"
granted, one has nothing to do with the other, but i initially fell in love with this song because as a little girl (and even now, in fact) to my family i was boo boo, or just plain boo. so, "wake up, boo!" was exactly what i dreaded hearing every school morning and anticipated every christmas one.
happy childhood + catchy britpop tune = a memeory that then preoccupies your brain while you wait for the train
this thought then led me to mentally catalogue every nickname i have ever acquired in these 28 years. (nah - i am not obsessing...)
kittykat just seemed to appear because my gramma didn't watch hanna barbera and so she just didn't catch the boo boo nonsense.
cousin itt backfired on the poor kid who intended it cruelly, because it seemed fitting since i was 11 with hair past my ass, and so my friends and myself all adopted it...
the newly acquired "urban warrior" though its existence as a nickname was short-lived, given by a hussy and a gentleman whom i convinced to walk a mile or so from the parking garage to the rufus show instead of taking the shuttle... and because i have in large part ditched my vehicle in favor of a public transportation/walking combo to save money, save fuel, and save my butt from becoming the size of a small european country, save time if you can believe it, and to stop adding to the evermore present global warming... but mainly to save my ass. from being huge. again.
but as i am sure you all tired of hearing by now, i am still most proud of the mrs. robinson monker that i earned in edinburgh with a beautiful purple-haired angel named dylan... his accent still rings in my ears...
have i forgotten one?
i have lost my mind.
as i explained to case this morning, i am actually feeling the 28 crisis coming on and with it, the pressure to figure out what i want to do when i grow up.
if you know me, you know my love is the theatre. but you also know that the only non-human entity i love more is rock and roll.
as i kid i dreamt of - i am certain i have mentioned this on this very blog somewhere - being the patrick-fugit-playing-cameron-crowe-in-almost-famous character... but i hate doing interviews and i hate reviewing records.
i am not a musician. i just love - passionately - what they do.
i have no desire to write about music in general. what i want to write about is the stuff that effects me and how it effects me.
with that in mind, i figured it's time to start somewhere, even if it goes nowhere.
www.iheartsupergrass.blogspot.com - or get to it through my profile.
i not only welcome comments on this blog about your own musical experiences, i am actually gonna say here for the record, that i am asking for them.
and we'll see where it goes.
LOOT, continued...
an excerpt from an email i received yesterday from nik
(i apologize vehemently for the blatant plagarism, but if i were to so much as attempt to paraphrase this, i would do her cleverness no justice)
18. "Ready for your birthday present? I quit smoking Saturday! Yay! The gift of life! Joy!
"I did say to myself that I like the idea of us, later in life, being little old ladies who visit each other and take vacations like going to plays in London and New York and such. So this was a fitting gift, considering that I can't do this if, well, I die unusually early."
Can i just say... that's awesome! No one has ever stopped smoking for me.
also...
in keeping with my resolution, here are the three days' worth of observations i denied you this past weekend:
a) if capitalism=narcotics, the container store=crack.
b) tube tops + women who are well-endowed = bad combination UNLESS it is an occupational necessity. because i am sorry, but it will ALWAYS look like an occupational necessity.
c)my intense dislike of most things rolling stones seems damn near hypocritical in light of my deep passion for all things supergrass. and the world would commit me if i actually voiced my genuine opinion that supergrass are, indeed, the superior rock band of the two.
LOOT, or an addendum to a previous post:
1. an ora pendant (www.bathsheba.com), because i don't want an engagement ring
2. an mp3 of a george harrison outtake from a very sweet soul whom i am pretty sure i haven't actually met
3. one of my best friends safely back on american soil after 2 years of catalunya living
4. my period...
5. a cheesecake and fresh strawberries along with an original keith "herring" birthday card (and you thought fish couldn't create artwork)
6. one might call them eggs. we call them football tickets. and a private dance party/love puddle.
7. one kamikazi, 2 cape cods, 2 strongbows, 3 dinners
8. money for a "wedding dress"
9. 5 calls from well-wishers, 9 text messages (7 of which were the same hussy)
10. the best birthday cake ever and a promise that it will be my wedding cake
11. jeff buckley on a jukebox
12. the promise of an ipod shuffle
13. a bloc party extravaganza
14. dinner with a dozen or so of my favorite people
15. incredible, yet two-day-early birthday sex
16. metro, cars, and some split enz
17. a reminder that the life i lead is indeed a charmed one, complete with many beautiful people i am blessed to know, love and have love me
from here on out, august 18th shall be referred to as Heidi's New Year's Eve... like Chinese new year, but different.
and with that my first ever set of Heidi's New Year resolutions. or resolution (no s).
blog-surfing via the "NEXT BLOG" button located in the top right-hand corner of your screen, I made today's observation. most blogs suck.
not saying mine is magnificent, but i feel some effort is made to keep it a least somewhat interesting, if not entertaining. i do my best to not write anything unworthy of being read.
i resolve to be a better and more frequent blogger and to at least contribute one observation every day that the wonderous world wide web is available to me.
so that is my birthday - rather my new year's gift to you dear reader. i will try harder to make this worth the time you're wasting at work reading it.
side note: new year's gift. my soviet-union-born love with the anti-organized-religion upbringing who has never celebrated a christmas in his life excepting the one MY family coerced him into this past year would be very proud to see my use of this term.
for another of today's observation see today's earlier post. i apologize if "TMI" comes to mind.
eve is such a bitch.
for future reference mother of the world, periods do not a good birthday gift make.
"red eye"
my favorite hussy and i caught a special screening of my beloved cillian's new movie last night.
while enjoyable, if not simply for the unintended comedic value, i can't help wondering what possessed an actor with that kind of integrity - rare in young actors these days - to even consider that role, much less take it.
not the best film he's done, clearly. it's actually a stretch calling it a film even.
but he's still pretty.
a few things...
as i do every morning, i opened explorer to begin my morning blog cycle. and i read jer's last entry from espana. it has all come full circle.
i am reminded that this very blog was begun at his urging to help us keep up with one another's lives while there was an Atlantic and half a small continent between us.
so maybe this is the beginning of a new era. jer's back to the states, heidi's impending nuptials, the ushering in of the mysterious 28 that case and i have been half-philosophizing about since the days of 750 dixie ave...
and what better way to begin it than with birthday festivities?
after saturday, it feels as if the ball is already rolling. after spending lunch with minda, my second friend ever, and catching up and having a grand time of it... followed by a surprise call from one of my favorite men in the world and an invite to join himself and another from that rather short list for a drink, where eventually the greatest roommate ever joined us as well as some other folks i love dearly and don't see nearly enough.
and just in case you're curious of what's in store for the official, i am thinking frollicking in the big park if weather permits. if it doesn't, we'll move it to the british pub across the street with the kickass jukebox.
on my way to have lunch with one of my oldest friends yesterday (since age 4, kids)... hadn't seen her in a good eight years, probably 10... wras's music for the pre-pubescent and they play rainbow connection.
and i cry.
i cry because i always have/do when i hear that song.
and i cry when i think of the great loss millions of children around the world have no idea they suffer at the loss of jim henson.
sure the work and spirit continue, but still just ain't the same.
i owe a small part of my very happy childhood heart to that man and his genius.
i can't tell you what a thrill i get when it hits me that i work within mere feet of some of it.
skeksis
an observation i made this morning walking to the train station:
elliott smith is the only man/human who ever lived that can make the phrase "what a fucking joke" sound lovely. not just lovely, but heartbreakingly so.
granted, i never heard jeff buckley try.
i heard a nasty rumor today that there was going to be a remake of "pretty in pink."
is nothing sacred?
i feel pretty sorry the kids in this country. they get nothing original given to them. and what's more is that they are deceived into believing otherwise with all this rehashing of a past they know nothing of... (the dukes of hazzard was a television show? who schneider?)
but why rehash it?
i didn't need a remake of monty python and the holy grail to appreciate its brilliance in spite of the fact that it was almost two decades old by the time i experienced it. nor did i need to hear smashing pumpkins cover fleetwood mac to appreciate the beauty of the song "landslide." (and i sure as hell didn't need the dixie chicks...)
nor do i think that a remake of one of the classic 80's teen films is going to make it more accessible to a modern audience. i am sorry but if they cast lindsay lohan or hillary duff than it won't even be a legit remake, as any of those silly teen it girls are way too glamorous to pull it off with the kind of integrity that molly did.
and that goes for jessica simpson butchering berlin songs and whoever ruined "our lips are sealed" (perhaps one of the best songs of my childhood)...
a remake of king kong?
yet it sells.
are the people buying into this stuff really so willing to be treated as if they are incapable of processing anything original?
have we hit the bottom of the barrel? is there not an original thought left in the head of the mainstream entertainment masterminds? or are they just afraid to take the risk?
consequently, i read recently that the Doors 21st Century are being stripped of the name the Doors (or being sued over it again - i can't quite recall). this elates me almost as much as it would to see the latest incarnation of INXS forced to play low-end venues opening for the lead singer of Warrant - to NO ONE because it turned the world's stomach to think of the desecration they are bringing to michael hutchins memory - but that's another rant altogether. sorry i strayed....
on a happy note... currently trying to put together plans to celebrate/usher in year 28 and properly send 27 packing.
if you had shown me this photo in 199-whatever when it was taken, i totally would have said, "i am gonna marry that guy in the beatles tshirt."
unfortunately there are moments in my life that cause my faith in humanity to fail. when those happen at work (i work at what amounts to a children's theatre)... it becomes even more devastating.
an excerpt from a conversation i had with two patrons earlier this week:
(note: statements are not verbatim, but damn near close)
"can we get a raincheck? our children were terrified by this production of alladin. and all of those references to allah were very offensive to us, because we are christians."
(heidi says nothing, grabs rainchecks and begins to date them for validation)
"can you tell me where they got the story? i don't understand why they deviated from the Disney version..."
"they took it from the classic tale ma'am. aladdin is an arabian fairy tale." (and i continue stamping rainchecks, avoiding eye contact for fear they will notice the incredulous look on my face and the fact that i am finding it difficult to stifle my laughter.)
(lady looks at me incredulously as if to say 'huh?')
"we are not inthe business of recreating Disney's versions of fairy tales, ma'am. it's illegal and not very creative. we - or in this case the National xxxxxx Theatre, who actually produced this show and whom we are presenting - chose to craft their own telling of the classic ARABIAN tale. here are you rainchecks."
(and under my breath - 'thank you for breeding hate and ignorance into the future population.')
as the bumper sticker so eloquently puts it, "Jesus protect me from your followers."
though it was easily 22 years ago, i remember it vividly. it was my first time seeing ET through to the end. i was 5? i believe. i was utterly heartbroken. my first experience with tear-jerking, and there i was leaving the cinema in my dad's arms, head thrown over his shoulder, gasping for breath between the crying fits... i had no idea what was happening to me.
the day before yesterday i found myself reminded of/re-experiencing this as i finished book 6.
YOU AREN'T ALLOWED TO LAUGH AT ME.
