Moses Guest @ Last Concert Cafe

I went to see a band on Saturday night. I felt 20 years old again. It was a fucking blast! Not just any band, but Moses Guest, fronted by the ageless Graham Guest. He looks exactly the same as when I knew him *back when*. The boyishness killed me. But for all the times I saw him play guitar, I never saw him rock. And they do rock! I never had the Dead/Phish jam band epiphany, but MG has the southern rock/blues thing that makes it heaven for me. Even at an outdoor club on a 50 degree night. The club was perfect: a house hidden among a row of warehouses, in a maze of dead end and one way streets. Have to knock on the door to get in, but you can hear the amps from blocks away. Did I already say that I felt 20 years old again? Missing a few things, though: the cigarette in my left hand and the longneck in my right. Also I have gained a husband who was totally cool for the whole thing. Just earlier that week we had our 11-year-anniversary of the first date, meaning that for 11 years, I have only gone out w/ E.... and yet I've never been to a show with him. A few things recently have made me play my radio a little bit louder, dust off old CDs while I'm making dinner. What's moving me now is: The Waterboys, Neil Young, Public Image Ltd., the Replacements, and Fishbone. Now I have to put Moses Guest into play as well.

Good Reminder

(Rudolf Dreikurs, 1972, pp. 28-29)
If a child lives with criticism, he learns to condemn.
If a child lives with hostility, he learns to fight.
If a child lives with ridicule, he learns to be shy.
If a child lives with fear, he learns to be apprehensive.
If a child lives with shame, he learns to feel guilty.
If a child lives with tolerance, he learns to be patient.
If a child lives with encouragement, he learns to be confident.
If a child lives with acceptance, he learns to love.
If a child lives with approval, he learns to like himself.
If a child lives with recognition, he learns it is good to have a goal.
If a child lives with honesty, he learns what truth is.
If a child lives with fairness, he learns justice.
If a child lives with security, he learns to have faith in himself and those about him.
If a child lives with friendliness, he learns the world is a nice place in which to live, to love and be loved.
(Courtesy WikiEd)

Silliness Last Summer

I have always loved these pictures, taken at our friend's ranch, one hour west of here. I remember the day fondly: the kids all played together, good food, great company, even the light was perfect. Some drama: as the day ended, we came across dozens of tarantulas scattered through the lawn between the house and the cars. Texas....

It was the only summer I didn't go to Montauk since knowing E. It was the only summer in his life that he wasn't there. V was coming end of August, about a month after we moved into the new house and my mother's diagnosis. it was a good summer to lay low and stay close to family.

Outed!

So far this morning I've learned that one of my friends has learned of this spot and is sharing the news. I should have known that linking to his blog would have alerted him in some way... And why should I have expected any privacy? It is a BLOG, after all: its reason for being is to self-expose. Brings to mind my younger self, and all my eager self-promotion. Just 10 years later, I've become so self-conscious.

Bombay & Transformers

On the way home from church, EMD fixated on a streetcorner sign: Bombay Going out of Business! 40-60% Off! "BOMBAY!" he chanted, in a poor Hindi accent, driving around the block multiple times until we all agreed to chant with him. We were completely groaning, even the kids who normally fall right into his shenanigans. Finally, he released us, and we had our bagels and went for naps.

******

EMD & I watched Michael Bay's Transformers the other night, in order to gauge if it was ok for William. I thought it was too confusing for them, in addition to the typical Michael Bay violence and sexualized images of teenagers. This morning, W and M came downstairs and watched most of the movie themselves (completely quietly, we should have known they were up to no good.) After church, they saw the rest, this time with us. One of the Autobots (good Transformers, for those of you w/o 6-yr-old boys)dies in the movie's ultimate battle. Marina was completely distraught about this and cried for almost an hour. "Why did he die?!?!" I tried to be a good mom, and explain: "that's why I didn't want her to see the movie;" "in battles, sometimes people (or anthropomorphic machines) die;" "only 1 good-guy dies, but ALL the bad guys did;" and finally, when nothing worked, "he didn't die, he just got hurt." With that, she ceased her tears and went to sleep.

NOT SILLY - The Emperor's Children

I recently finished "The Emperor's Children" by Claire Messud. I picked up the book because it was a NYT "10 Best" and quickly was pulled in by the fact that the characters were exactly my age (graduated when I did; living in NYC when I was). So the book became like a benchmark for me. I knew people *just* like that. I aspired to intellectual elitism *just* like they did. (Didn't hurt that the beautiful pain was named Marina.) This book was going to be my "Goodbye, Columbus" or "Catcher in the Rye."

But I was disappointed by a few things.

(1) The dialogue was just not real. It was clunky and interrupted the story. The novel clearly tackles some serious ideas, but fleshing them out in dialogue between two 29 yr old single women just did not ring true -- even if they did go to Brown.
(2) A major tragedy was used as a gimmick to move both the plot and the character turns. Of course in literature we want (expect) to see the characters change, however waiting until THE plot point, which allowed affairs to tie up, ambitions to cool, marriages to heal. I think more nuance here would have made a finer book.
(3) It wavered between satire and empathy. I sometimes felt that the vanities of certain characters were so exaggerated that it was veering (gleefully) toward satire. But ultimately it pulled back, and with other characters it was fully sympathetic.

The things I liked were that the least sympathetic character was the young, bright, beautiful girl; NOT her pompous father, who seemed to be living off of professional exploits of his youth. It was a surprise. Due to schadenfreude, I loved the suspense of waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the fantasies to come crashing down, which they do literally and metaphorically. (But again, using a major event to signal "it's the second half of the book, now!" was lame.) And I am fascinated by the famous/quasi-famous/media types that we brush sleeves with daily in New York, but who I never came to know intimately. Perhaps my dissatisfaction is less with the book than with my own experiences during that time, and how they measure against the superficialities of these illustrated lives.

First Post

Friday, 26 October 2007
Finally joining the chattering classes by setting up with blogspot. I can no longer bear the embarrassment of NOT having my own url to promote shamelessly, I mean share, with friends and family. Not sure how I can keep it up, considering what life is like these days for a working-mother-of-three (WMo3) but I'm motivated by the hope that people we know and love will be compelled to check back for updates on our special people: W, M & V.

First order of business: learn how to post photos. Be back after...