Come On

I don't particularly like country music and I don't have any real interest in seeing Country Strong but this clip is making my heart thud.



Clean-shaven and groomed, Garrett Hedlund does nothing for me.  But I'm so feelin' his scruff in this intimate clip!

Would you like me to seduce you?

I met a young man this weekend who was adorable, smart, funny and earnest in all the ways that 17-year-old boys weren't when I was that age.  I strongly dislike the term "cougar" but, suffice it to say, for the first time ever, I could see myself as a Mrs. Robinson.

Of course, nothing happened - that's not only illegal but also disgusting!  But a (dirty old) woman can dream, can't she?

Failure of the American Educational System

Every single one of Christine O'Donnell's teachers should be ashamed of themselves.

Catnip for Women

It all went tits up for me a couple months ago and I never had the chance or inclination to post about the wonderful thing that happened immediately prior. One night after getting shat upon by pigeons in St. Louis, Kings of Leon gave an excellent, hot and sweaty concert outside Chicago. I had the amazing good fortune to see it from around this angle:

Unbelievable. As the ushers directed us to our seats, moving us ever closer to the stage, I kept thinking “There must be some mistake.” But, no. Our seats were in the first row behind the open-pit General Seating. We were blessed with the incredible view and spared the annoyance of people mingling and jostling and moving around. Standing in that giant barn of an arena, I felt like I was seeing an intimate club performance.

And that performance! They just don't miss a note. The set-list was really gratifying for the true fans – a heady mix of old and new and as-yet unreleased songs. The girl next to me was bored out of her mind until they got to “Sex on Fire” but I was thrilled. (“Radioactive” and “Southbound” have me counting the days until Come Around Sundown releases on October 19!)

Set List:

Crawl

Notion

Taper Jean Girl

Immortals

Molly's Chambers

Fans

Milk

Mary

Closer

Four Kicks

The Bucket

Radioactive

Sex on Fire

On Call

Southbound

Trani

Encore:

Knocked Up

Use Somebody

Black Thumbnail

That night, July 24, was absolutely sweltering. Sweat was rolling down my arms even before the lights dimmed. A thunderstorm rolled through and the lightning lit up the sky throughout the show. The front pushed through right in the middle of “Sex on Fire”, the cooling breeze cutting across the crowd and stage alike. I saw the guys lift their heads, lean into the breeze and take a collective cleansing breath of fresh air. The skies dumped oceans of water, drenching the lawn. Caleb thanked them for hanging in there and vowed to keep playing.

Literally moments later, my personal situation bottomed out and I'm still not over it. As crap as that has been, however, I haven't shaken the afterglow of that concert. Thanks for a great night, KOL.

Wise Words

I've been experiencing the waning of a friendship that I thought was strong.  I'm left with alternating feelings of anger, resentment, betrayal, hurt, and loneliness.  But as I move forward, I try to keep Stephen Fry's immense wisdom in mind.

Know your limits, people.

At the casino the other day, I saw a woman win almost $800 at the roulette wheel.  And she didn't even crack a smile.  Can you imagine how far down you must be for $800 to not seem like a big win?

Don't get me wrong, I can (and do!) spend hours at the roulette wheel.  But I never let myself lose so much that I can't appreciate a win.

Know when to stop before you start, people!

Hypnogogia

I have had dreams in my life the memories of which are more real than any moment of my waking life.  I can summon, with perfect clarity, things I experienced in a dream decades ago.  So I totally, completely, unequivocally get what Christopher Nolan is saying with Inception.  

I had the good fortune to attend an advance screening tonight and all I want to tell you is that you should go.  See it before you read all about it.  Don't let reviewers spoil the ride for you.  

Pale Blue Dot

I've been feeling a little small.  And cosmic.  It's a safe bet that Doctor Who is to blame.   So this feels appropriate:

The "pale blue dot" in this photo is Earth as seen from Voyager 1 while on the edge of our solar system (approximately 3,762,136,324 miles from home).  Carl Sagan wrote brilliantly about the picture.

Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every ‘superstar,’ every ‘supreme leader,’ every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there — on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.

It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.

If you have a road trip coming up (and still own a cassette player), I highly highly recommend his audio book.

I've Just Seen a Face

Across the Universe was on TV today.  Why doesn't Jim Sturgess work more?  He's brilliant in this.



That naughty look at 0:15 makes me squeal.

House of Blues Style

I had lunch at the House of Blues this week.  Every time I go there, I end up wanting to paint everything in my house.  I want to hammer beer bottle caps into my counters.  I want to replace my drapes with velvet patchwork quilts and my carpets with Oriental rugs.

It might just be easier to move in there.

Happy Little Trees

I love Bob Ross. I know that he's embraced by a subculture of hipsters who ironically praise his sing-songy voice and hippy afro. I'd like to think my fondness for Bob, however, has more to do with his quaintly-honest sincerity. There is no mocking in my admiration.

In a half-hour, Bob Ross turned a blank canvas into a serene woodland tableau. Watching him do it is like watching a magic trick you've seen before. You know what's going to happen, you know how it's done. But it's amazing every time.

The paintings themselves are, of course, amusingly pedestrian; they're the sort of works you can find at the Starving Artist's Expo at the hotel out by airport. You're far more likely to find me getting lost in a Rothko or one of Gerhard Richter's Ice paintings. But as much as I dislike Bob's product, I do have respect for his process.

The real pleasure is Bob himself. The narration is not so much a lesson in painting as it is Bob's stream-of-consciousness ramblings. Listening to his soothing voice hypnotizes me into a mellowness so profound I want nothing more than to lay my head on his beautiful nimbus of hair and zen out for the rest of the afternoon.

Logorama

Did you see the short film Logorama? No, of course you didn't because God only knows where they show short films.

Hey, I know where you can see short films. The internets! It's like the whole place is designed especially for showing short films! Perfect!

Except, you can't see Logorama there either because Autour de Minuit Productions has removed it from sites that have posted the whole movie. You can see about 45 seconds of it on their website.

So, congrats, Autour de Minuit. You have utterly failed to distribute an Oscar winning film. It's really a shame, because the film is delightful. I know because I watched it online.

Don't ask, don't tell

On Monday, I wore out the batteries in my remote control by flipping between the morning shows to catch all the Oscar coverage. It's always hard for me to let go of award season after the Oscars.

On the Today Show, Meredith Vieira and Al Roker interviewed some of the makers of The Hurt Locker. At the end of the interview, she alluded to a embrace co-stars Anthony Mackie and Jeremy Renner shared on the set of the Today Show the morning the nominations were announced. The day after the awards were handed out she asked “You hugged him pretty tight, I must say, in the moment. There was a lot of man lovin’ goin’ on last night. Do I have reason to be worried?”

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Kudos to Al Roker for his incredulous reply “Why would you say that?!” Indeed, Meredith, why would you say that? What exactly is it that you are “worried” about?

Well, today, GLAAD posted a statement from Vieira in which she sincerely apologizes: 

During an interview with the cast of the hurt locker on Monday, I turned to actor Anthony Mackie and made a joke about “man hugging” in reference to a hug he and fellow actor Jeremy Renner had shared a few weeks earlier on our air. It was meant to be lighthearted, but some were offended by what they believed to be a homophobic comment. That was never my intent, but that doesn’t matter. Words are extremely powerful and should never be chosen lightly, even in a lighthearted moment. I apologize to any and all that I offended. My support of the gay and lesbian community is longstanding and well documented. It has not and will never waver.

It's a nice statement – none of the usual “I'm sorry if you were offended” bullshit you usually see from celebrities. I accept her at her word; I really don't believe that Meredith Vieira is prejudiced.

Unfortunately, she's not the real problem here. That question wasn't asked as a spur-of-the-moment time-filler. The producers had the original clip all cued up and ready to roll. It wasn't a lighthearted moment; it had been decided ahead of time that Meredith would ask the question. The problem is that while Meredith isn't prejudiced, the producers believe that their audience is. They think that people care about Anthony Mackie's sex-life. They believe that titillating questions about Jeremy Renner's sexual orientation will boost their ratings. And it's entirely possible that they're correct – after all, you should never underestimate the stupidity of the American public.

In any case, I'm glad I wasn't the only person who was offended by the comment and I'm glad Meredith apologized. And I'm very glad that award season is over so I can go back to not watching morning shows.

Religion in Education

I was dismayed by this article by Lisa Miller in a recent issue of Newsweek. While reviewing and revising Harvard's core curriculum, a faculty advisory panel proposed that students be required to take a course in "Reason and Faith."  They scrapped this proposal after the vocal protestations of a celebrity professor campaigning against what he perceives to be the irrationality of faith.

I highly doubt that the advisory panel was suggesting that students be indoctrinated with faith or even that they leave the course believing that reason and faith are equal paradigms for understanding the world. I suspect, rather, that the panel sought to spark discussions about the role of religion in society, science, history and politics. Whether you are a believer or not, no informed person could discount the role religion has played and continues to play in almost every aspect of human life.

That the advisory panel backed down in the face of opposition from a self-promoting professor makes me question Harvard's relevance. Accusations of ivory tower elitism are nothing new for this institution or any of the hundreds of other excellent colleges and universities in this country that strive to produce thoughtful, engaged, analytical young adults. I would never suggest that all learning must be applicable to experiences in everyday life; liberal-arts schools do not offer vocational training. But until a student has been armed with factual knowledge and critical-thinking tools, how can he possibly hope to play a role in a society where every interaction will require an understanding of religious differences?

Religion is an important part of human society. Students who have not grappled with faith's many intricacies are poorly equipped for a reasoned life.

Illustration by Peter Oumanski for Newsweek

A question of etiquette.

At the theater tonight, the woman sitting behind me gnawed her gum loudly throughout the entire play. This was not a rollicking, toe-tapping musical; this was an extremely serious, dramatic study of a family dissolving into abuse and alcoholism. And she was smacking away, open-mouthed, like a cow chewing her cud. It was disgusting as well as distracting.

What's the proper etiquette? Should I have turned around to her early in the first act and asked her to chew more quietly? Should I have complained during the intermission to the house-manager (who would most likely have shrugged and said there was nothing he could do)? Should I have done my best to ignore her?

I ended up not saying anything. Initially I had hoped she would finish quickly and after I realized she wouldn't, it felt too late to say anything. So, I suffered in silence and seethed.

The Art Institute of Chicago Modern Wing

The Modern Wing of the Art Institute of Chicago houses the museum's collection of 20^th and 21^st century art. I finally visited yesterday and have torrent of things to say about the building in general and specific pieces within it. For today, we'll stick to the Wing itself.

First and most importantly: the building serves as a canvas on which to display the museum's surprisingly vast modern collection. To that end, the building is largely successful. The galleries are wide and bright and they make the art look gorgeous. In a few unfortunate cases, sun shades on the windows in the north-facing rooms distort the quality of the light and negatively impact the pieces on display. The sun shades also obscure the view of Millennium Park (and the Pritzker Garden to the south) which begs the question: why have windows at all? These are minor irritants, however. As a showcase for the art on display, the Modern Wing performs beautifully.

My surprising disappointment came from the showiness of the design of Griffin Hall. Renzo Piano draws too much attention to his design by overworking certain elements. There are too many light fixtures, too many support braces, too many handrail joints, even. There is something almost fussy about the architecture. Piano wants you to notice his work. It's an unappealing display of arrogance.

Finally, there is a lightness to the space which worries me a little. The illusion of “zero gravity” is used throughout. The “reveal” makes everything – benches, the stairs, even the walls – appear to hover an inch off the ground. The effect is immediate and profound; it gives the impression that at any moment the building is going to lift off the ground and fly away. It's lovely but how it relates to the solid permanence of the original Beaux-Arts section of the Museum remains to be seen. For now, I hope the Modern Wing can settle into itself and become as established a landmark.

Love Actually

I had the good fortune to pick someone up from the international terminal of the airport the other day. Standing around waiting for her, I watched the people around me and thought about Love Actually. It's easily one of my favorite movies and it's been getting a lot of mentions lately thanks to its superiority to that cynical, wannabe, knock-off Valentine's Day.

At the airport I saw a vastly pregnant woman hug her mother, obviously come to help with the birth. I saw a family greet a very frail young woman in a wheelchair, perhaps come for medical treatment. I saw a middle-aged man wordlessly collect a timid woman – a mail-order bride? I saw college friends squealing with the delight of reunion. I saw parents applaud the arrival of a group of students, triumphantly returning from some quest.

It was overwhelming. Love actually is all around.

Winter Olympics Drinking Game

I'm more or less indifferent to the Winter Olympics.  I'll watch some of it but, mostly...meh.


So, a friend and I compiled this list to liven things up a bit. 

• Every time they make an oh-so-clever comment about the East Coast having more snow than Vancouver, drink.
• Every time someone cries on the podium, drink.
• Every time someone falls in the figure skating competitions, sip a girly drink.  
• Every time they mention that Apolo Anton Ohno won Dancing with the Stars, twirl and drink.
• Every time someone flies off the ski jump, hide your eyes behind your Slanket.
• Every time Shaun White does a never-before-seen, why-does-anyone-else-even-bother-showing-up trick, drink.
• For every Red Bull sticker or endorsement, do a jager bomb.
• Every time they show a Native American, drink.  
• Every time they use a child to symbolize hope for the future, drink.
• Every time they talk about an athlete from a warm-weather climate who has zero chance of even surviving their event, drink.
• When Celine Dion starts singing, finish your drink, pour another one and finish that too.
• Curling.  Train like the "athletes" and chug your beer.
• Every time Lindsey Vonn complains about not winning due to a bruise, do a double shot.

Wish my liver luck!

Tears for a Sailor

Let's be honest.  They call it Deadliest Catch for a reason.  We tune in to episode after episode out of a disturbing human instinct to witness danger.  Like the impulse to gawk at a car accident on the side of the road, I cannot force myself to turn off Deadliest Catch.

Yet now that the show has lost one of its stars, somehow the danger seems more real and the risk does not seem as entertaining.  On the rare and unfortunate occasions when the fleet has experienced tragedy, Discovery Channel has handled it with grace and discretion.  I hope they will find a way to do so now as well.  Rest in Peace, Captain Phil.

 

 Crossing the Bar

Sunset and evening star
   And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
   When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
   Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
   Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
   And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
   When I embark;

For though from out our bourne of Time and Place
   The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
   When I have crossed the bar.

- Alfred Lord Tennyson

And the Oscar for Worst Song goes to...

In a couple of recent online and print articles, Entertainment Weekly has been exploring how out-of-touch the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences is when it comes to the Oscars for Best Song. At www.ew.com, Leah Greenblatt kicks off a reader debate by suggesting these are the "worst nominations ever."

"Ever" is a pretty long time and, of course, no one on the internet can be bothered to do the sort of research it would take to justify such a statement. Setting aside Greenblatt's hyperbole, there does appear to be a disconnect between the use of music in movies and what the Academy chooses to reward.

Part of the problem stems from the Academy's rules. The official rules say that a song must be "written specifically for the motion picture" and cannot have been previously recorded or performed.  This means that an eligible song must be the creation of a musician working in tandem with a director and can have never been workshopped or performed publicly.

The Academy broke its own rules in 2008 when it awarded Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová the Best Song Oscar for “Falling Slowly”from Once. The song had been performed live prior to its use in the movie – a clear violation of the Academy's eligibility requirements. The New York Times' Carpetbagger does a good job of summarizing the controversy and includes the Academy's justification for the song's inclusion. Essentially the Academy said the audiences for the live performances were small and inconsequential (even though their rules say nothing about what size or composition of audience is or is not acceptable). To me, it sounds like the Academy fudged their own rules to allow for an obviously brilliant piece of music that did not technically meet their eligibility requirements. “Falling Slowly” went on to win Best Song because, honestly, who would argue that the three songs from Enchanted and the song from August Rush were superior? Certainly not the audience in the Kodak Theater that night; check out their reaction.

If the Academy is willing to bend its rules for this kind of excellence, perhaps it's time to consider changing the rules to accommodate additional perfect pairings of music and film? Ever since Quentin Tarantino revolutionized movie soundtracks with his must-have compilations for Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction, I have been arguing that the Academy needs to change their Best Song rules. Instead of only recognizing brand new songs, I propose a Best Use of Song category or an award for Best Music Supervision. The Academy should celebrate the talent and skill of directors and music supervisors who underscore a film with compelling, moving, pitch-perfect music, regardless of when that music was composed or recorded. The right piece of music can utterly transform a critical scene in a movie and, likewise, a powerful scene can forever change the perception of an existing track. Directors and music supervisors deserve recognition for this achievement.

In the meantime, we are left with the original question: are these the worst Song nominations in Oscar history? It's hard to answer such a large and subjective question but definitely there are excellent movie music moments that are going unrecognized this year. Lykke Li's plaintive “Possibility” from New Moon, Mary J. Blige's soulful “I Can See in Color” from Precious, even Ed Helms' “Stu's Song” from The Hangover should all be receiving commendation. We don't have any hope of learning the thought-process behind the decision to exclude these songs, but I will continue to argue that changes should be made to prevent such mistakes in the future.

What it means to be a man

There were several commercials during last night's Super Bowl that referenced the emasculation of the American man. The Dodge commercial “Man's Last Stand” spelled it out most clearly:

 

But if men's efforts at domestication are leaving them feeling abused and under-appreciated, I suggest they gather a few women around and have them watch this clip of Drew Brees with his son.

 

World's fastest turn-on. Big, strong, burly man? Check. Successful and powerful leader? Check. Tender and emotional father? Check. There is absolutely nothing more a woman could ask for. He can drive whatever damn car he wants as long as he parks it in my driveway!

Car Envy

I saw my first Tesla last night as I was driving home from a night on the town. The pre-dawn roads were nearly deserted which explains why the owner was out for a joy-ride. If you had a car like that, you'd be zipping up and down the streets in the middle of the night too!

What caught my attention was how weirdly silent the car was. We were stopped side by side and, when the light turned green, the thing just took off like a ninja. The lack of macho, muscle-car rumbling was so disconcerting that at the next light I actually turned off my radio and cracked my window to listen. Again, nothing! The car just slipped away. The only time I've seen something similar was in the electromagnetic propulsion of some of the newer amusement park thrill rides. No doubt, driving a Tesla is just as thrilling.

I saw the Roadster Sport in Very Orange. Nothing subtle about that car! Then again, why be subtle in a $100,000 all-electric sports car that gets 200+ miles per charge and can go 0-60 mph in 3.7 seconds? There are only around 1,000 of them on the streets worldwide and I feel very special that I happened to be out to see this one!

The name Tesla Motors is a clever touch. This brilliant car is a fusion of science fiction and reality that I think Nikola Tesla would have admired.

I think you have the wrong number.

A caller who had the wrong number tried to hit on me the other night.  He was trying to call his sister but upon finding me on the line instead, he asked if I "had a man."

Seriously?

Is this really how men's brains operate? If I had told him I did not "have a man," how exactly did he foresee the rest of the conversation going?

Let the Oscar race begin

Oscar nominations were announced this morning and I'm thrilled that District 9 is up for Best Picture.  

Don't get me wrong - I don't have any delusions that it stands a chance of winning.  But if a nomination will bring it to a wider audience, I'll be satisfied.


If you haven't seen District 9 yet, go rent it right now.  That's what a science fiction movie should look like.  It's futuristic but not unrecognizable.  It's thoughtful but not preachy.  It has super-cool special effects but still manages to be completely believable.  God, I love that movie.


Who's hungry for some cat food?

They're welcome to use ME.

What exactly is it about the Kings of Leon that makes me want to remove all my clothes?  The music?  The lyrics?  The style?  The hard-drinking?  Some delicious combination of the above?

In any case, I'm so pleased they picked up a few Grammys tonight.

Find Beauty

I labeled my last post “Find Beauty” and it occurred to me that I should probably explain that philosophy.

Years ago I used to ride the “L” to work. One of the buildings that backed onto the tracks had a homemade sign nailed to its rickety deck. Hand-drawn letters spelled out FIND BEAUTY in glittery paint. The juxtaposition of the rundown back porch with the aggressively upbeat sign always caught my attention. I was inspired by the friendly commandment and made a point to follow its instruction.

Finding Beauty is not always easy. Some things are obviously beautiful: sunsets that burn up the atmosphere, the soft blush of a new bloom, a heart-wrenching ballad. There is hidden beauty, however, in less obvious places: the rainbow in an oil splotch in the parking lot, the precision of flesh-eating beetles, the bare branches of a dead tree reaching in vain into the sky. Although Beauty is always present, sometimes we need to seek out its hiding place. My mission to Find Beauty became a daily exercise in seeing. And like any exercise, when I practiced it, it became easier to do.

I no longer consciously Find Beauty everyday. It's become a way of being over the years and I don't even notice I'm doing it now. On occasion, however, something will be so striking, so arresting that I realize I'm having a Find Beauty moment.

So, where did you Find Beauty today?

Diamonds on the soles of her shoes.

I took a walk this evening in a cloud of diamonds.  Because it's so cold, snow is coming down like glittery soap flakes.  It makes the air twinkle with reflected streetlight and the ground shimmer like the fairy tale landscapes of my childhood dreams.  It's whimsical and otherworldly.

I marvel at how a thin blanket of magic snow can transform the ugliest of alleys into a fantasy landscape.

I'll take Nerd Alert for $200, Alex

Last night I took the online qualifying test to be a Jeopardy! contestant. 50 questions, 15 seconds to read each clue and type in your answer. Having never taken the test before but being a loooooong time fan of the show, I was relatively pleased with how I did. Questions ranged from Science to American History, Geography to Pop Culture, Literature to Current Events. It was a full spectrum of trivia.

I spent the rest of the evening obsessing over the questions I know I missed. Most of the time in trivia, you either know the answer or you don't. I'm haunted by the ones I know I didn't know last night. But, in true nerd fashion, I spent time studying each of those topics after the test and I can promise you that I'll never forget that particular author's name or the atomic make-up of that particular element again. Because trivia shouldn't just be about the regurgitation of accumulated knowledge. It should be about learning. Well, learning and showing off what a smarty-pants you are.

Unfortunately, they don't tell you your score and there's no way of knowing whether or not you will be invited to an audition. In the coming weeks I'll be anxiously checking my e-mail, hoping to qualify for the next round!

Coincidence?

Is it just me or does Muse's "Uprising" sound like the Dr. Who theme song?

Muse:

Dr. Who:

What to Watch

Even though I'm technically old enough to be her mother, I can't get enough of My Life As Liz on MTV.

I'd like to think it's because I'm young at heart and still in touch with my inner teenager. But part of me fears that the adolescent dramedy speaks to my heart because none of us ever really grows out of high school.

Check it out. It's a million times better than all the other "high school" shows where teenagers hang out in bars, hook-up like sex-starved housewives, and wear thousand-dollar outfits. But watch it soon; MTV will probably pull it off the air soon to make room for more episodes of Teen Cribs.

You have more than you need.

It's not just Haitians who need help.

Please share what you can.