December 29, 2006

Images from the holidays

December 28, 2006

I read this interesting article today in the Seattle Times, which helped me understand why cashmere has become so much more suspiciously affordable in the last few years.

That low-priced cashmere sweater has a hidden cost

December 14, 2006

Last night I witnessed what may have been the first ever dramatization of a dissertation defense on primetime television. On the Fox show "Bones," the young forensic anthropology doctoral student was shown sitting in a small, hard wooden chair in front of a panel of scary-looking professors who were of course seated on a raised platform to make them look even more scary. Our young scientist passed, though not before a terse professor asked him how he expected anyone to take him seriously as a Ph.D. scientist looking the way he does (young and sloppy). So, what does that mean? You guessed it: Makeover!!!

P.S. I only started watching Bones because of my loyalty to all ex-Buffy actors, but I actually kinda like it too!

December 11, 2006

I found out that my current employer (one of them) doesn't have any more non-resident tuition waivers, which I need in order to avoid paying an extra $1000 for three credits. My eye just started twitching.

December 5, 2006

I am copying excerpts from this piece of advice here so I can refer to it every now and then when I'm feeling discouraged - like now. I especially like the "isolate yourself totally from the stream of yammering humanity."

(From the Ms. Mentor advice column, The Chronicle of Higher Education, 12/8/06)

Question: Writing dissertation. Must be last person on earth, never see anyone anymore unless teaching. Does that count as seeing people? Think not. Need a laugh. Pray each night to write damn thing and finally finish Ph.D. without turning into bloviator. However, noticing that friends and family glaze over quite soon after asking about research. Hate to bloviate. Thus, no pronouns. Plan to eliminate other parts of speech as needed, maybe take vow of silence. Good?

Answer: Maybe. Maybe not.

Ms. Mentor obviously captivated by your writing style. Impressed by your efforts at minimalism. Thinks it's catching, but will try to extricate self and talk more ordinarily. (What is normal among academics? Discuss.)

Everyone knows dissertation stress. What you're doing will never be finished, or it will be laughable and absurd. In a just world, you would be hanged as an academic fraud and your remains fed to feral dogs (they'd call it recycling). Your B.A. would be yanked and your records deleted. Your high school would post your weaselly, smiling graduate photo on its Wall of Shame.

Or you could ignore all those febrile fantasies, decide to do a good-enough dissertation, and finish it — or not.

Half of A.B.D.'s (All But Dissertationers) never finish, but they are not failures. They've chosen other things — such as a social life, or children, or a career that doesn't require years of poverty (and maybe chastity) before a tenure-track job perhaps materializes in a Remote Village.

Writer's block is fear — fear of getting something wrong, not getting an A, being unmasked as an impostor at last. Every writer except the most doltish of hacks approaches a blank page or screen with trepidation, and the hardest word to write is the first.

Do not get on the Internet.

Turn off all phones and put your cellphone where you cannot see it light up, vibrate, and dance.

Write by hand — as Ms. Mentor writes her first drafts — so as to sneak up on the work. Tell yourself, as Anne Lamott recommends in Bird by Bird, that you're about to write a "shitty first draft."

If you can isolate yourself totally from the stream of yammering humanity, do it for the first draft. Lock yourself in your carrel. Hide out in mountain caves. Let beauty-school students practice pedicures on you while you scribble.

Encourage roommates to surprise you with treats, but only on Fridays after 5 p.m. Ignore their grumbling. Put your fingers in your ears and chant, "La la la la la." True friends will understand.

Many people, of course, won't, and the Dissertation Era (which Ms. Mentor hopes will not be a Dissertation Decade for you, as it sometimes is for unfortunate literary scholars who must work as adjuncts in three places and grade thousands of compositions while grinding out their great opuses) may mean giving up on those people who, well, aren't into you.

Except for family members whose caprices are inescapable, you do not need narcissists who tell you their love problems incessantly (unless their stories are vivid, lurid, and ever-changing, and you can use them in your chapters about neurotic behavior). You do not need broken-winged people, addicts, or whiners who have to sleep on your couch for a few days to "get my head together." You do not need people who "will be great" once they get over their bigotries or their resentments of you ("Why are you always writing? Let's go get a beer and forget your silly homework.").

Anyone whose moods get you down, or who picks a fight when you're trying to finish a chapter, or who disparages your work, does not belong in your life.

Find a writing critique group, if you have a strong ego. If you're not sure, convene a group of friends in which all of you make deadlines for one another and meet once a week to celebrate what everyone has written, taught, sold, or cooked. Have lots of chocolate.

Yes, give up useless parts of speech, especially adverbs. They are the softeners, the wimps of the grammatical world. You need to be ruthless, self-protective, fierce, whatever your mode.

Some writers are gushers, bloviators who spew everything in their first drafts and then pick out the best chunks. But you may be a bleeder, a one-word-at-a-time agonizer (as Red Smith said, you sit at your desk "and open a vein"). Or you may be a Beavisite, converting all long jargonized theoretical explications into the simplest of language: "Cool" or "It sucks."

Now all you have to do is explain yourself to the world.

Good.

November 17, 2006

Picture of Joan Jett & the Blackhearts (or in this case, Blackheart) during their first song Tuesday night. Stubb's was pretty full, with the typical, wonderful motley crue of multi-generational fans she attracts. They played several songs off the new album "Sinner," and they were nice fun Joan Jett songs - a mix of covers and little-heard songs from previous albums, along with a couple originals like "Riddles" and "Change the World." While she played her standard "...We're Going to Make it After All" from the Mary Tyler Moore Show, I felt like I was really going to finish my dissertation. I'm sorry, I find ways to derive inspiration from even the cheesy songs she plays! Everyday People? Check. Favorite song on the setlist? Love is Pain from the I Love Rock 'n Roll album. But damn, Crimson & Clover kicked ass too. Maybe that was the best.

This was my fourth time seeing her; I was trying to recount the other times so I wouldn't forget (this is why I need a diary):
1. 1998, at Parker's Casino in Shoreline, WA. Waited in line for an hour to meet her after the show and then chickened out. Surprise opening act: Fastbacks! By far the best of the four.
2. 2000, at the grand opening of the Experience Music Project in Seattle. Great grand opening weekend, stupid museum.
3. 2004, at a warehouse in East Austin at 2am during SXSW. Silver Zephyr was there!

Eagles of Death Metal opened, a garage-rock type band from I'm guessing California. Check out the 'stache on that guy! (below) I think a lot of people are curious about them because the drummer is/was in Queens of the Stone Age. They were all right. They surprised me by singing falsetto about half the time.

November 15, 2006

This is exactly why I feel absolutely no compulsion to go see the Borat movie. I'm glad someone had the ovaries to put into print what I'm sure many people think about this style of humor, but are afraid of being labeled as humorless, uptight, too sensitive, and the like.

November 13, 2006

This is where I'll be tomorrow evening:

"Joan Jett is still a badass. The 48-year-old has managed to outlast many of her male punk counterparts, look good doing it, and still put out viable albums. Sinner, Jett’s first since Clinton was president, finds her hellbent for leather pants, with muscle from longtime band the Blackhearts. Is she still pissed? Just drive through “Riddles,” and order three-chord punk with a side of political doublespeak..." more from the Austin Chronicle preview.

In other news, I will be putting myself on a strict self-disciplined regimen for the next approximately 16 weeks. If I want to actually try to graduate next May, I need to have a full draft of my dissertation by March 1st. That leaves three weeks - until March 22 - for revisions, one month for the other four committee members to review, and then defend the last week in April. I looked up all the deadlines and was dismayed to learn that you have to submit the final, formatted, approved dealio to the graduate school by May 4th. Why does the semester have to end so freaking early? Sheesh!

So anyway, I'm under the impression, however mistaken it may be, that I can do this. Or at least get damn close. I'm dropping one of my jobs to buy myself more hours in the week, with the trade-off of barely eeking out a living. (I seize every opportunity to use the word "eek"). Sixteen weeks! Sixteen weeks! I can do it!

Rumsfeld is gone!

November 8, 2006

Today is a good day. Twelve long years it's been, with the last six being particularly hard. I stayed up watching the results last night til my eyes crossed - I didn't want to go to bed! My favorite moment was impulsively calling my mom in Montana to celebrate Nancy Pelosi becoming Speaker of the House-elect. The most powerful position ever held by a woman! I had tears in my eyes.

We also added two women to the Senate (and didn't lose any), a few more to the House, and overall twenty new pro-choice House members. An informative overview of what this all means can be found here. The people of South Dakota gave a big F-U to the misogynist christian industrial complex (I'm trying to coin a new term here, akin to the 'military industrial complex,' or the 'prison industrial complex.' Help me out! And grassroots organizers in Arizona defeated a hetero-marriage amendment.

I don't want to worry yet about what comes next, I just want to bask for a while as the clouds have finally parted a bit.

Yay!

October 27. 2006

Chris Bell is the only candidate for governor who signed the NARAL Pro-choice Texas Prevention First Pledge, which says that if elected he will "work toward the common-ground goals of supporting access to family-planning services, making birth control, including the “morning-after” pill, more affordable and accessible, and teaching our young people honest, realistic sex-education."

This makes my decision pretty clear.

October 25, 2006

Sandy West, Runaways drummer, died last Saturday. That's her on the far right.

October 20, 2006

Celebrity Sighting at South Congress Cafe

Yesterday M. was craving crab cakes so we went there for lunch around 1:00. There was one of those signs on the door indicating that if we went inside we were granting permission to be filmed for an upcoming episode for a new show to be tentatively called "Giada's Weekend Getaways." We look at each other quizically, say "huh?" and then M. looks in the window and proclaims, "there she is!"

So we went in to wait for a table. They end up seating us right next to her table, though out of camera shot. The tables that were within the camera angle were filled with extras!! I thought that was pretty weak. But M. thought maybe they had to do that so the people sitting around her on camera wouldn't constantly be turning to look at her. Like we were.

She was tasting the carrotcake french toast. The funniest part was when they were done shooting, the sound operator guy sauntered around to her half-eaten plate and helped himself to a bite. Hee hee! A quick search reveals the series will premiere on Jan. 12.

And yes, her head really is that big in real life.

October 5, 2006

How come no one ever told me about Chango's? Motivated by a glowing review in the Fearless Critic, I decided to check them out last week and have been back twice. Chango's is to Manuel's what El Chilito is to El Chile, so it's quality stuff. I have had the del mar taco, which has marinated & grilled mahi mahi (you can request shrimp too), but my favorite is the al pastor. Holy macatoli! Served simply with lime, cilantro, onion and pineapple, it doesn't need any hot sauce. Everything is fresh, healthy, and the best thing: self-serve aguas frescas with apparently free refills.

There's nothing in the restaurant that explicitly says you can have free refills, but I read about it in the Fearless Critic review so I tried it and was not tackled by an employee (unlike the time I tried to sneak some free ice tea at taco bell in the Texas Union building four years ago). And oh the selection! Canteloupe, Watermelon, Coconut for god's sake, Honeydew, and of course Horchata.

Chango's is locally owned and has two locations in Austin. And note to Silver Zephyr: according to their website, "Chango's" roughly translated means "little monkeys."

October 2, 2006

The recent barrage of girl-hating has my stomach lurching and me just generally feeling helpless and angry and ultimately depressed.

There was the woman dragged to death by her husband in Colorado, the girls singled out, sexually assaulted, and one executed at a Colorado high school, and the girls singled out and three executed at a Pennsylvania school today. These sacks of shit seem to always kill themselves afterward.

And, in other news, the House of Representatives approved a bill that would make it a federal crime to evade one state's parental consent laws by taking a minor to another state for an abortion. The Senate passed the similar "Teen Endangerment Act" in July, so all that's left now is to work out the final version for the president to sign. Yippee.

September 27, 2006

Always wanted to know what your ecological footprint is? I have. I have tried to live my life by one basic mantra: to somehow justify or at least modify the space and resources I am taking up on the planet (by being a middle class white person living in the United States) by contributing something back to the world and being conscious of the waste that I create. Some may call it white liberal guilt, I call it rational. What that something is, is heretofore unidentified, unless little things count, but that's another subject (that I really don't want to talk about anyway).

This nice website will tell you what your ecological footprint is in the world. Apparently the average for people in the U.S. is "24" or "25." Mine was a "9," but I think I fudged on my car's gas mileage. My footprint is much more to my liking now that I don't commute 60 miles roundtrip, and I ride the bus twice a week. Anyway, try it out if you want!

September 6, 2006

My 35th birthday fell on Labor Day this year, marking the traditional end of summer as well as my youth, as I dryly and somewhat morosely put it to a colleague yesterday. The end of one’s youth being a completely arbitrary point, of course. And I don’t really think of my youth as over, but the rest of society seems to. One of the most depressing-yet-strangely-liberating realities of turning 35 is that I am no longer in the coveted target demographic for marketers, 18 – 34. It is this growing irrelevancy to the mass market that depresses me, because I’ve always liked the fact that as a 20-something and early-30-something the world kind of revolves around you. Once the mid-30’s hit, it becomes abundantly clear that there is a whole crop of young up-and-comers behind you, who are probably smarter, more creative, and have more energy than you. Of course I’ve been on the other end of this tension and still am to a large degree because everyone in my field is 5 to 25 years older than me, and when I started out as a 25-year old with a master’s degree, well, I struggled to be taken seriously and was constantly asked by consulting clients if I was “in school.” Ten years later, I still don’t seem to be “old enough” to garner any sort of credibility with senior colleagues. But I digress.

Aging out of the target demographic should be freeing! Free to be me! A certain power comes with not being in the crosshairs of the marketing machine. Similar to my experience ducking the patriarchy in my early 20s by not shaving my legs, not wearing makeup, and cropping off all my hair. That sudden invisibility to men was both scary and exciting. I also take heart by looking to women I know who are pushing 40 and 50, and swear they feel like they’re 18 on the inside – though this also means the aging process doesn’t get any less weird-feeling the older you get. And as my mom said, there are plenty of cool, happenin’ women in their 80s to whom I am but a mere baby.

P.S. I highly recommend the black pepper sorbet with strawberries at Uchi.

August 31, 2006

Mark your calendars, Jett-heads: Tuesday, Nov. 14 at Stubb's will have Joan Jett & the Blackhearts, Eagles of Deathmetal, and the Riverboat Gamblers. Tickets are on sale now!

Today was my first day back as a graduate teaching assistant in two years. For some reason I remembered it as being not very labor-intensive; talk about rose-colored glasses or something. The professor who runs the class changed up his style a little and now has 5 short papers (multiplied by 104 students = 520 papers to grade), a fill-in-the-blank portion on exams (which means actually reading these answers as opposed to sending them to the testing center to be scanned), and occasional little in-class surveys that require me to go home and enter data and run frequencies. Yuk! I am already plotting how I can swing Spring semester financially without the TA gig.

My research fellowship is so far looking like it will be fun, interesting, and challenging. I'm going to have a cute office in the School of Public Affairs, a laptop, and opportunities to travel to conduct interviews and do archival research on a topic I have a professional stake in. I haven't really started yet though so I'm trying to ratchet it down to a cautious optimism.

August 28, 2006

Poopapalooza 06

Last week we found out from our esteemed developer-neighbor-dude that weeks ago during the demolition of the house next door to us, the sewer line was broken. So for the past few weeks we've been merrily using the facilities, as it were, without a care in the world, unknowingly contributing to a burgeoning cess pool down the hill. For the past week we were advised to "limit our usage," and every time I flushed I pictured the contents landing on the roof of some SUV speeding down Riverside Drive below. Luckily, esteemed developer-dude has temporarily moved into the other side of our duplex until some other dumb house of his is done, and the sewer backed up into his apartment (not ours, ha ha ha!). However, some white substance did bubble up a little out of a PVC pipe in our front yard. Gross! So tonight it finally got fixed, and we made him clean up our yard. Talk about environmental health hazard.

In other poopy news, about this same time over the weekend Frankie got a horrible case of the runs coupled with vomiting (she's okay now). The whole mess smelled like, well, gag-inducing poop. Also at this same general period in time, our backyard began to smell like hot dog poop baking in the sun, because esteemed developer-dude happens to have two big yellow labs who poop all over the damn place (big ones!) and he never picks up after them. They (the dogs that is) also strategically leave their "calling cards" right in front of our entrance gate about every other day.

Poop on you, developer-dude!

August 24, 2006

In an earlier post, I alluded to my disgust with the inherently misogynistic culture of the U.S. military. Robin Morgan recently wrote a short commentary in The Guardian that connects all this to the bigger picture.I do not believe the rape-murder of an Iraqi girl was an isolated incident. It seems almost weekly I read articles about yet more American servicewomen who have been assaulted by fellow soldiers (I actually know someone who this happened to), and it's common knowledge (isn't it?) that rape has routinely been used as a weapon in war. Also see Susan Brownmiller's excellent history of rape in the military in Against Our Will. Now, I'm going to have a drink.

Victory!

The political godbags at the FDA finally caved! Emergency contraception will be available without a prescription for women over 18. The sound of that sentence is just weird. It's like, am I really saying that in 2006? It's so 1960. I suppose now the battle will continue to focus on the whacko pharmacists who will try to either not stock Plan B or refuse to dispense it - as women will of course have to show I.D. before the pharmacy decides whether she can purchase it or not.

Thank you NARAL, Planned Parenthood, Dr. Susan Wood, and everyone else who worked so hard on this.

August 23, 2006

Just a few pictures from a week spent in south central Alaska...

A sight for sore eyes - mountains and water!


View from our train seat on the way to Seward


Aialik Glacier, in Kenai Fjords National Park (kayakers in foreground)


Alaskan sea lions


Humpback whale falling back to the water after breaching (you gotta enlarge this one to really see it)


M. freezing to death on a boat off the coast of the Kenai Penninsula


Back to Anchorage...


These are the "sound of music" hills I grew up with...the base of the Chugach mountain range




Going to the top of Alyeska, the ski resort 45 minutes south of Anchorage


This is classic - taken in Talkeetna, AK


The Pioneer Bar in downtown Anchorage - in the same location since 1917. Anything older than 1964 (when the earthquake hit) is old in Anchorage.

August 19, 2006

Some highlights from four days in Seattle

Our first night in town, leaving The Funhouse (sort of like Seattle's Beerland) where we visited with friends and listened to weird bands.



Mt. Rainier hovers over Seahawk Stadium and Safeco Field (where the Mariners play) in the distance...taken from Victor Steinbrueck park by Pike Place Market, where I used to eat my lunch in the old days.



Documenting our visit to Cupcake Royale in Ballard. I had the lavender frosting and M. had the orange. Legalize Frostitution!



My favorite dog in Seattle, Eve, with whom I used to live. Here she hangs with us at the Lava Lounge on Second Ave.



Rachel Flotard and Ben Hooker, Visqueen, playing on the Vera Stage at the Capitol Hill Block Party Friday July 28.



Ms. Led wows the rag-tag crowd of old hippies, families, crazy people, elderly Scandinavians, and Block Party escapees at the Ballard Seafood Fest, Saturday July 29. The next night we met Lesli and Matt for a drink at the Whiskey Bar in Belltown.



The crazed throng gathered to see the one-time-only reunion of the Murder City Devils, Capitol Hill Block Party Saturday July 29.



Good-bye Seattle! The view from Elliott Bay

August 11, 2006

I am still organizing all the photos from our trip, but wanted to put this one up first. This is my godson/psuedo-nephew, 7 months old, of whom I am a huge fan. The picture was taken in Talkeetna, Alaska with Mt. McKinley a.k.a. Denali shrouded in clouds behind us.

August 3, 2006

Greetings from Alaska - once again I forgot to bring the card reader to upload pictures, but here's a quick update:

-M. is ready to pick up and move to Seattle (loves it).
-M. got sunburned in Seattle (ironic).
-Yesterday we rode the Alaska Railroad to Seward, and on a 6-hour ocean tour we saw sea otters floating on their backs, some shy seals, scads of sea lions, Aililik Glacier which is a humongous tidewater glacier that is calving huge chunks of ice into the bay, and three humpback whales, one of which breached (jumped out of the water) not once, but twice - super rare to see that. Also saw tufted and horned Puffins, and several eagles.

We miss our kitties and puppy and our friends, but not the 99 degrees. It's like 60 here today.

Carry on!

July 26, 2006

Missoula gets the Rolling Stones, too

This is the biggest thing to happen to Missoula, MT since...since...I think ever. Pearl Jam played a secret show there in 1993, and kicked off their tour there in 1998 (one of their members attended University of Montana), and Jesse Jackson came to town once to lead a labor march...nope - biggest thing ever.

July 24, 2006

Wrapping up things at the job this week so I can go on vacation with a clear head and looking towards the future. Upon my return, I just have to go in for one more day to do some human resources paperwork, and then I am cut loose. I don't know if I will write more about my many trying experiences there, because I am really ready to move on and forget that most of it happened. I did take away some useful lessons, though, which I may need to put into words to help me process and truly learn from it. But on to the vacation!!

In three days we're off to the northwest, with the kitty-monsters left in the capable hands of Reluctant Texan, and Frankie moving in with Watson over at "Camp Brushpile." A few things on our itinerary:

+The Moore Hotel, a low-budget vintage (as in old, not the hip new kind) hotel in Belltown, my old work neighborhood. It's the kind of place where you bring your own soap;

+The Capitol Hill Block Party, where some of this year's bands include the Murder City Devils, Band of Horses, Silversun Pickups, Smoosh, Visqueen, Schoolyard Heroes, Sera Cahoone, The Divorce, and The Emergency;

+Fremont, my old neighborhood, and the Ballard Seafood Fest, where we will see our friends Ms. Led perform;

+ Kenai Fjords National Park, where we hope to see sea otters and Puffins, Beautiful Downtown Talkeetna, where we will unfortunately miss the annual Moose Dropping Festival, and of course my stalwart hometown, Anchorage.

July 17, 2006

My week in Ann Arbor

I vacillated between "oh my god, i will never be able to do this (meaning my dissertation analysis)" and "i can totally do this." I kept hearing from the top sociological criminologist in the country that these data are very complex, and that it took him and his colleagues a year just to figure out one type of analytic approach. All of a sudden, I didn't feel so bad that I had stalled out a bit due to the intimidating nature of the data (said data being a 7-year survey of 6,000 Chicago youth ages 0 to 18 and their primary caregivers). The take home message: simplify. Got it.

My home for the week: Ann Arbor Bed & Breakfast, where every morning Pat had a feast of fresh fruit, assorted breads, yogurt, coffee, orange juice, and either an omelette or scramble of some sort complete with fresh herbs from the garden. Sigh. I have always been a breakfast person.

This bear was my constant companion, and watched Rockstar: Supernova with me. He agrees that Zayra is embarassing to watch.

On the left is University of Michigan's tower. I think it might even be less aesthetically pleasing than the UT Tower. Next to that is the very dramatic Michigan Union building, which seemed very old on the inside.

My daily walk to class (the red brick building below, which houses Interuniversity Consortium on Political and Social Research) took me down this street, University of Michigan's version of the Drag. Only this actually had shops and restaurants on it.

The Detroit airport sucks. I think this picture captures the utterly soul-killing space I had to occupy for over two and a half hours.

Almost home! Somewhere over north Texas.

July 10, 2006

So far Ann Arbor is neato (getting to Ann Arbor from the Detroit airport is an expensive hassle though). The vibe reminds me a little of Missoula, with a little Austin mixed in. A cute laid back college town with lots of trees and historic houses. I sat out on my little balcony this evening, in perfect 80 degree weather with no mosquitoes. Oh the luxury! Unfortunately I forgot my gadget to upload pictures to my laptop, so I can't post pictures. There are about 6 people from Sweden staying at the bed and breakfast, who mostly ignore me and talk to each other in Swedish, and the proprieter is a little crazy in a good way. I'm gone from 8:15am to about 7pm each day at the workshop, about a 15 minute walk away. The other people in the workshop are really nice and I've already made friends with some cool women. People are actually interested in my dissertation research. Oh and I sat at a table with Rob Sampson and Felton Earls this afternoon. I was too tired by that time to ask any coherent questions though. That's my report for now!

P.S. Happy 72nd Birthday to my Dad, who doesn't read this blog.

July 7, 2006

Egads I was actually avoiding my own blog because I didn't want to look at that dude's mug anymore. And the nerve of him degrading the memory of Johnny Cash by wearing that tee shirt.

I think I've found my summer reality show - I'm having fun following Austin's own Patrice Pike on the show "Rockstar: SuperNova." Though I cannot for the life of me understand why she would actually want to be in a band with Tommy Lee. She won't win (if they pick a woman to front their band, they'll go for someone more "dirty"), but it is probably a good career move in terms of getting on national TV.

Sunday I go to Ann Arbor for a 5-day workshop having to do with my dissertation research. I'll have the whole thing done when I get back, right? Nah, I'm just hoping for some direction and motivation. I think I'm realizing how easy I have it as a doctoral candidate - why would I want to go mess up my cushy life by finishing?

July 3, 2006

Rapist and Murderer

What a fitting event to mark our annual holiday celebrating freedom and patriotism. This is exactly why I loathe the military. I'm willing to accept that we need a military, given the state of global relations, but please don't tell me to respect the military or hold them up on some sort of moral pedastal. My father, now 72, was an officer in the military for 30 years (most of those years as a reservist), and as a product of the 1940s and 1950s believes that the military (well, at least the Navy) is a bastion of high moral standards. It makes me sad that he clings to this notion of what the military should be or aspires to be, but can never attain. I don't know how he would explain this utter debasement of human life and dignity without acknowledging that it is a direct effect of the misogynistic culture of the military. Premeditated rape and murder is not "collateral damage."

June 27, 2006 pt. 2

No more Sleater-Kinney, my friends.

This just in:

"After eleven years as a band, Sleater-Kinney have decided to go on indefinite hiatus. The upcoming summer shows will be our last. As of now, there are no plans for future tours or recordings. We feel lucky to have had the support of many wonderful people over the years. We want to thank everyone who has worked with us, written kind words about us, performed with us, and inspired us. But mostly we want to extend our gratitude to our amazing fans. You have been a part of our story from the beginning. We could not have made our music without your enthusiasm, passion, and loyalty. It is you who have made the entire journey worthwhile.

With love and thanks,
Sleater-Kinney"

Their last show appears to be Lollapalooza in Chicago this summer.

UPDATE: I have it from a reliable source that their publicist says they are trying to schedule a Northwest show before the summer's out (none of their final shows were in the Northwest). I doubt they wanted freaking Lollapalooza to be their last show. Not that any of us will be able to go, but you know. It's still nice news.

UPDATE: Last show will be at the Crystal Ballroom, in Portland on August 11. A much more fitting departure. I will have just returned from the NW four days before that - booo.

June 27, 2006

So, it didn't take long for the so-called "Boy Crisis," which was widely touted by various media outlets and crack-pot post-feminists, to be de-bunked by actual longitudinal research on test scores, college readiness, and graduation rates.

From the Washington Post:

A study to be released today looking at long-term trends in test scores and academic success argues that widespread reports of U.S. boys being in crisis are greatly overstated and that young males in school are in many ways doing better than ever.

Any disparities have more to do with race and class than they do with sex differences, and much of the ballyhoo is familiar to those of us who came of age during the Backlash era of the late 80s/early 90s. The Washington Post article comments that indeed, the media backlash may be partly in response to Title IX reforms of the last 30 years - the benefits of which we're seeing now.

The Post article continues: [The report] concludes that much of the pessimism about young males seems to derive from inadequate research, sloppy analysis and discomfort with the fact that although the average boy is doing better, the average girl has gotten ahead of him.

June 24, 2006

Good news in the world of orcas: "K" and "L" pods have arrived in Puget Sound with two young 'uns. There are only 89 Puget Sound orca whales in existence right now (the two new babies are #88 and #89). Hooray!

In more self-involved news, M. and I roasted a red pepper for the first time last night. I held it over the gas flame with tongs til it got all black and charred, and then M. did the peeling. It always looked so complicated and messy on TV, but it really was quite fast and so much better than the jar kind. We added it to some chopped zuchinni (cooked until just tender), fresh basil and chives, garlic, olive oil, and a dash of balsamic vinegar.

June 22, 2006

Lately I have been weighing the pros and cons of staying in Austin or moving elsewhere, preferably closer to my aging parents and my best friend and her 6-month old kid. And mountains. And green forests. And 75 degree summers. It is the looming deadline of my graduation that has me up nights staring at the ceiling fan. It's less than a year away, and never mind that half my dissertation isn't written yet (I don't even have results yet), but good grief! What do I do now? Nothing really sounds appealing. Lots of things sound unappealing. Like academic jobs (though I've always known that one), or super-hoity toity research firm jobs where your salary is dependent on going out and finding clients and securing grants. The thing I like best, which is independent consulting, is economically infeasible without a second salary to back me up while building a client base. The biggest joke of all appears to be on me after all this PhD business: I left the best job I'll ever have four years ago, and now I fear I will spend the rest of my life trying to find something as good. Since I am afflicted with the ole "grass is greener" mentality, I can't see how this could have happened any other way though.

More and more, a certain feature of Austin living leads me in the direction of leaving town - the god damn mosquitoes. I swear. It is enough to drive me yelling and swatting right on out of this apparently swampy mosquito hole of central texas. And I refuse to invest hundreds of dollars in dry landscaping and propane-electric CO2 mosquito traps that *might* work. Alaska supposedly is famous for its bad mosquitoes, but at least there you have a fighting chance - they are so huge, you can feel them land on you, so before they start biting you can swish them away. Down here, they're so tiny and fast you have no idea they are even there until it's too late and about twelve of them have already had their way with you. My arms and legs are covered in little scabs because I have absolutely no self-control when it comes to itching. Anyway. I am so indecisive and non-committal that it might take something as inocuous as flying insects to help me make up my mind.

P.S. I am weary of thinking of pithy little titles for my entries, so I am going back to how diary entries always have been. Just the date.

It's the longest day of the year, you say?

Here are the winners of the Real Hot 100 - there are a few Austin ladies in the mix.

Speaking of hot, Happy Summer Solstice! Always a big deal for someone who grew up in Alaska. Though it wasn't hot per se, it was very bright. They have parades, a midnight sun marathon, a midnight softball game (played without the use of lights, of course), and people dress up in crazy costumes.

And finally, a Hot Tip for breakfast sandwich afficionados: P & K Grocery at S. 5th and Mary makes a great one. They use cast-iron pans to create a lovely english muffin-fried egg-cheese-peppered bacon sandwich. My only complaint would be the American Cheese (godawful stuff-why do chefs think this is ok to use?), but there's not enough of it to bother me that much.

Random information I've been storing up

Best new brunch spot: Zax Pints and Plates on the corner of Riverside and Barton Springs.

Best waffles: Progress Coffee on weekends (they're heart-shaped!)

Best dessert: FINO! For M.'s birthday, we tried out this sister restaurant to Asti. My dessert ruled - a Madjool fig beignet with turkish coffee ice cream and coffee syrup.

Weirdest window display that no one ever mentioned: Your Living Room furniture store on the corner of S. Congress and Barton Springs. Male and female mannequins couple sitting in a bed with no clothes on, welcoming a third mannequin (female), who is standing at the foot of the bed (with no clothes on).

Wildlife sighting: We have three sparrow eggs in an unused mailbox by our front door.

Most unexpected outcome of a domestic animal spat: Our Frankie kicked Angus the cat's butt while staying at Angus' house while we were at Schlitterbahn. No one kicks Angus' butt! Until, now, that is! No word yet on whether Frankie is invited back.

Favorite newish album: Band of Horses, Seattle USA (check them out June 25th at the Parish)

Best band news: What Made Milwaukee Famous just signed to Barsuk, which makes them labelmates with Smoosh; Team Dresch may be getting back together; Smoosh released their second album this week; Murder City Devils are headlining the Capitol Hill Block Party for a one-time-only reunion, on July 29 in Seattle - I'll be there!

Best detail in the utopian world of the West Wing: During the series finale, the chief justice of the supreme court (swearing in Jimmy Smits, no less) was a woman. Sigh.

Latest TV series epiphany: The end of season 4 of Angel is a metaphor for the difference between people whose feminist consciousness is raised, and those who remain under the spell of blissful ignorance. It even showed how when the spell is broken, you get depressed. I don't really think the writers meant it this way, it was more of an Are you better off being unhappy with free will vs. happy without free will thing, but it totally works.

Team Dresch lives!

It is true, that every once in a great while something good that has ended can be reborn, just as it was before. In this case, it is Team Dresch, with the original lesbionic rock action lineup! who has risen from the dead. OMG! as the kids say. John is going to see them tonight in Seattle. So far they are just playing the northwest, Brooklyn, and Chicago. OMG! My young rock sensibilities were nurtured on the albums "Personal Best" and "Captain My Captain" - "She's Amazing" is one of the best love songs I've ever heard, I found out who Phranc was by listening to the tribute song, "Uncle Phranc," and my hair was blown back and my eyes opened to the world of political punk rock possibility by "Hate the Christian Right."
OMG!

Good thing #594...ending

Continuing with the rather morbid theme my blog seems to be taking every now and then, I submit the latest thing to bite the dust. Our lovely, quiet, secret cove where we live with a view of downtown.

The demolition crew came and razed the 60+ year old house that used to stand across the yard from us, to make way for two houses that will completely block our view. The new owner/developer "Mike" is hereby designated as public enemy #1 around here. Extra irritating is that he can't be a day over 30. It bothers me when people that young have that much money AND have a corresponding air of entitlement AND decide to build two McMansions in a historic Austin neighborhood.

The chickens of the world need your help!

Listening to KUT on the way to work today, I found out that today is International Respect for Chickens Day. The purpose of Respect for Chickens Day is to "celebrate the dignity, beauty and life of chickens and to protest against the bleakness of their lives in farming operations." Chickens represent something like 90% of the animals killed for meat in this country, and the conditions they live in are comparatively much worse than what cows are subjected to (we're talking relative levels of horror, here, of course). A non-profit called United Poultry Concerns, the impetus behind Respect for Chickens Day, does great policy work on behalf of chickens, like supporting a Delaware bill to give egg-laying hens more space to live in. Their website is full of interesting chicken activist resources, and pictures and stories of nice chickens who have been rescued. Also of note is the section called Think Like a Chicken, with poems and stories written from a chicken's point of view. I am a big fan of chickens, and stopped eating them almost completely a few years ago. Did you know that some types of chickens are endangered, and that they can make nice companions? I really enjoy our neighbor's little flock of chickens (and rooster)...they were peacefully pecking around the grass this morning as I pulled out of our driveway.
So for my chicken-eating buddies out there, maybe just today you can abstain from eating chicken or eggs out of Respect for Chickens Day!

TV, job, vacation - in that order

A lot of stuff is going on right now, and it's all jumbled up in my head so I'm just going to start with whatever I think of first....

First off, I want to say for the record that I would totally watch another season of West Wing with the new, incoming Santos administration. How awesome would it be to watch these characters navigate their first term? Santos (Jimmy Smits), VP Baker (the guy who played Al Bundy on Married w/ Children), Secretary of State Vinnick (Alan Alda), of course Chief of Staff Josh Lyman (Bradley Whitford), an as-yet-unknown position for Donna Moss (Janel Moloney-I'm so glad the writers finally got those two together in the last half of the final season), Mary Louise Parker (my fave!) as chief of legislative affairs, Sam Seaborn (Rob Lowe) as Deputy Chief of Staff, and Lou (Janeanne Garafolo) as Director of Communications. I would TOTALLY watch. But, good thing #593 coming to an end is, alas, The West Wing.

In other television news, I realized the other day while accidentally pausing on The Real Housewives of Orange County on Bravo that the infamously sexist/50s throwback husband "Slade" went to my high school in Anchorage. He was two years ahead of me, in the class of '87. Gross.

Veronica Mars still kicks ass. As does the character Chloe on "24," who is managing to simultaneously help save the country from domestic terrorists while evading the authorities (who are in league with the terrorists) AND having to periodically taser a dude who is harassing her in a hotel lobby while she hacks into top-secret government computer systems.

I will be changing jobs at the end of the summer - I got a starvation-wage gig at a university-based philanthropy and public policy research center for next school year. I will be a po graduate student again but much happier, I hope. One note of caution is that the dude I will work for is a bit snooty in that Chicago - Harvard school way (he was altogether nonplussed by the string of state universities on my vitae). I'll continue to do consulting for a local non-profit, which is my favoritist job. In the meantime, M. and I are going on vacation! Later this summer we're headed to Seattle for 4 days, and continuing up to Anchorage for 6 days to visit my buddy and her family (especially my new godkid). More on the vacation plans later, but we are taking applications for a dog-sitter for our little angel, Frankie:

Where does "Layabout" fall in this list?

I'm just posting this link because it's fun to look at lists of occupations. You know, like Parade Magazine's annual "What do People Make" issue? I love that issue. This one is Money Magazine's top 50 best jobs in America - but they have a bigger list of like 150 so you can look yours up and see how you stack up. Don't you just love social comparisons? Oh - and college professor appears to be the second best job in America, FYI.

Anyone know how to fix a Magic Merlin?

As I have been approaching my 35th birthday for the last few years, one internal exercise I force on myself is to try to determine exactly what my reasoning is for choosing not to have children. There are many reasons, which I have known my entire life, but I like to torture myself by reviewing the reasons just to make sure I haven't decided anything rashly or prematurely (like, say, at age 10). One reason I have come to realize is that I absolutely cannot bear childhood disappointment. It's one of those things that tears me up inside, including the reliving of my own. The optimistic innocence and eventual dashing of childhood dreams is excruciating to bear witness to.

Anyhoo, one of the more trivial but nonetheless memorable disappointments of my own childhood involved my dream of owning a Magic Merlin. My parents seemed to have no idea what sorts of things I liked, along with an inability to read my mind and know that all I wanted in the world in 1980 (could have been 1979, not sure) was a Magic Merlin. I remember for Christmas that year there was even a box that looked about the right size for a Merlin, but I opened it and it was something else (probably a doll, and I didn't like dolls).

So fast-forward about 25 years, and for Christmas 2005 my best friend sent me a box with her own Magic Merlin inside (with the original instruction booklet!). Enclosed was the following note:

"Childhood dreams can always come true! I have been meaning to send you this - I didn't make the connection until a year or two ago. I only got a Merlin because of my Uncle, otherwise I do not believe my mom would have thought it the best. I have probably had this for 20+ years. Thought I'd share it with you as I remember playing it tons..."

She knew I had always wanted one and hadn't realized that she had one all this time. It was the best gift ever! Until I put the 6 batteries in it and it wouldn't turn on. Drat! So, does anyone know how to fix one of these? My 9 year old self would love you forever.

Joan Jett is comin' to town!

She's playing at the Republic of Texas Biker Rally (ROT Rally) on June 3rd. I think out at the Expo Center, not sure yet. I had a dream about it last night - I was there with all the bikers. And then there was this pasture with cows in it, and all the cows were sitting upright. It gets a little fuzzy from there.

RD analysis

In my last post I escaped without adding any analysis or point of view of my own, as I am want to do. But I will tag onto Rockabilachica's recent post about the subject, and be more specific about my unpopular view.

In theory, it shouldn't be hard to tell the difference between exploitation and empowerment in the public sphere. Isn't empowerment at the very least the absence of exploitation? But here we get into the age-old debate of whether someone is empowered because they think they are. I'm sure a lot of the girls and women in Girls Gone Wild think they are empowered (or at least they did initially). Who's to say they aren't? Well, I'll go out on a limb and and say that no, they aren't empowered by that. Am i imposing my dogmatic views on them? I guess so. What about the African American student who says that without a doubt, in her mind she has never experienced racism? Can someone be objectively exploited without subjectively experiencing it? I think yes. With roller derby, it is a lot less clear cut than GGW (which is clearly run by men for men), Suicide Girls (recent article here) - run by a man for men with the veneer of individual empowerment for the models, which is basically a marketing ploy to make alt-porn consumers feel better - and even the modern-day resurgence of burlesque.

Part of the problem is this business with "reclaiming." In one of the comments under Twisty's post, a roller derby participant points out that TXRD symbols like the mudflap woman and sexually derogatory team names like the putas del fuego are their symbols, their words. Are they really? I'm not so convinced. Nor am I convinced that we have reclaimed gender epithets like "Bitch" and "Cunt," and I'm not convinced that African Americans have successfully reclaimed racial epithets. Though I have no systematic data to support this, I would venture a guess that the use of these terms outside of individual, intimate communities of women and African Americans is still considered disrespectul and has a violent connotation. Another skater wrote that she couldn't imagine what was sexy about watching women fall down, and thus the appeal had to be about the athleticism. Hello? That's some serious denial. The whole point for some seems to be that when the woman falls down, the butt goes in the air, the skirt flips up.

I have attended many performances of non-mainstream, underground, alternative (whatever you want to call it) art and music that use reclaiming and irony as the key component of the show. I can pretty confidently say that the message is totally lost on the majority of the audience who see a woman on stage and just want to see some skin and come-hither moves, already. This is roller derby's potential problem - the intention may be noble - it IS athletic! it IS about tough, strong women! - but it doesn't quite get translated amid the spanking and pillow-fighting and skirts flipping up to reveal ruffly underwear. Indeed, the bouts are often marketed as "girl-on-girl action." Is that supposed to be feminist? Or athletic? Roller Derby enthusiasts defend these aspects by emphasizing the athleticism of the sport, and explaining that the players choose what to wear. I don't have the time or patience to get into a discussion about the existence of free will or how we choose or come to prefer things, but needless to say all choices are made in particular contexts. Feminism is not simply "women doing what they want." And even if MOST of the women wore regular shorts and tee-shirts, the face of Roller Derby would still be the sexy outfit - because that's what sells. Does it make a difference if there are equal numbers of women and men (of all sexual orientations and identities) in the audience? While it definitely feels good to see lots of other women there, and it does mean something that it's not 90% men, it's important to point out that the male gaze is not limited to men. We've all been conditioned to see women (including ourselves) through the male gaze, and being gay or feminist or any other patriarchally subversive identity does not exempt us from participating in patriarchal rituals from time to time - it's pretty much unavoidable, which is a source of much frustration for me personally.

What i have always had a problem reconciling is the unquestioned, inextricable connection between "Woman" and "Sexuality." Why must so many performances and images by/of women end up being about their sexuality? Why can't it be about showcasing their skill and mastery, period? Why is it so freaking important that women "express their sexuality" in all that they do?? I don't see men running around determined to express their sexuality (well, at least not to the same extent). In my opinion, all this does is add to the already entrenched view that women as individual, thinking persons cannot be separated from their mandated role to be "sexy" or whatever. Maybe we should all, as humans, be seen as complex creatures made up of both our intellectuality (I know that's not a real word, heh heh) AND sexuality, but until we are ALL seen that way, the fact that women are singled out for this puts us at a social disadvantage relative to males. I believe this is because our culture is a product of the centuries-old view of the male/female dichotomy of males as connected to the rational-abstract (i.e. more important things) and females as connected to the body-earthly (i.e. less important things). It pisses me off that no matter how much a woman achieves, in the end she is nothing more than something to look at and/or have sex with. I see this all the fucking time in the music world - especially the more male-dominated subcultures of music.

This is a really complicated issue, and there are at least 15 side-bars that could be written about the different topics it brings up. So my wishy-washy conclusion is that some aspects of Roller Derby are feminist, or potentially feminist, but most of it is not. And that is perfectly ok, it is what it is.

Roller derby blues

I am compelled to repost this little gem, from the I Blame the Patriarchy blog, as it sums up my opinion of Roller Derby pretty well:

"Take, for example, that, despite the Rollergirls’ impressive skaterly talents, the 'sport' is only nominally about skating. You have already guessed what it’s actually about, but I’ll tell you anyway: sex. That’s right, sex, only not real sex, such as the kind we could all be having if Hugh Hefner hadn’t ruined it for everybody, but phony sex as defined by the horndog ideology of the pornocracy. The roller derby is an example of what you might, if you were me, call 'proto-porn'—a non-penetrative, G-rated, but nevertheless two-dimensional, stereotypical, and bogus picture of female sexuality generated from an amorphous plasma of cultural misogyny. It’s kindergarten burlesque."

Even though she's describing the specific activities of Austin's flat track league, I think her basic points apply to the banked track league too. It pisses me off that to be viable, they have to sexualize it and make it pleasing to the stereotypical "man." And in this case, much like the Suicide Girls, it's marketed to the alterno-punk-rocker man, who can feel like he's participating in something subversive when it's just the same old shit in a different wrapper.

At last, my SXSW 2006 report

I am so behind on blogging. First I have to report on SXSW, which was like a month ago and nobody cares at this point, but here goes:

The week was decidedly low-key for me - sans wristband, which I determined last year to be not worth the money, I returned to my day-show/hanger-on moocher role of the past. Lovejoy's was home base of course, so if I was too lazy to seek out shows elsewhere, there was always music at the LJ. Here are the highlights of my week!

Wednesday, March 15: First off, and a pleasant surprise, was Secret Weapons, a local garagey band with a killer lady on lead guitar and vocals. And they have a song about the HEB on Oltorf & S. Congress. I recommend seeing them around town if you can. Here is a murky picture of them:



Next that day, still at Lovejoy's, was Militant Babies, led by LJ bartender Davis on drums (ex-Fivehead). They were ok; it got a little guitar-wankery for me at times, but the songs Davis sang on were great:



Thursday, March 16: One of the best things that happened to me that week was biking from S. Congress to Ms. Bea's on E. 6th street ostensibly to see Von Iva play in the afternoon, but instead finding Erase Errata setting up on The Rambler stage:



I fell in love with The Rambler, a mobile stage. Here's the lineup written on the side of the truck:



Later that night, I returned to Ms. Bea's to see Von Iva, at last. Ever the shameless groupie when it comes to anything 7 Year Bitch, I couldn't wait to see Liz Davis after 10 years of a 7 Year Bitch-less life. Of course being the shy girl, I admire from afar.... Von Iva, from San Francisco, was pretty damn good in their own right. Sort of punky with a blues feel on the vocals (think Mia Zapata), and a very fun live show. Unfortunately I had to endure some horrible bands that went on right before them (everyone on the patio actually left in droves when one "noise" band started playing.). I took a walk down E. Sixth to get away.

I swear she's not holding her boob - just gesturing:


Here's Liz (she plays with her eyes closed a lot). I remember all the women in 7 Year Bitch had the arm band tattoo you see here, and I was so entranced by that at the time (1994):




Also on Thursday (I was biking all over the joint that day!) was the Schuba's party at Yard Dog, a short bike ride from home. I had skipped this particular party in years past, thinking it would be too crowded, but it was pretty fabulous. All the Miller Lite you could drink (woo), and bands like KEXP darlings Tapes 'n Tapes from Minneapolis, and steady Chicago favorites the Ponys. I also found out that apparently Neil Young was at this party, too. Maybe even at the same time I was! The only celebrity sighting I have to report is the guy from the Outback Steakhouse commercials, who apparently is some wildly popular satirical folk singer from New Zealand.

Ponys! I was so close I was able to find out that the singer/head Pony has really, really, bad teeth.


Other half of the Ponys!


Finally, on Thursday night I witnessed one of those weird SXSW things that instantly become legend. A group of us was hanging around outside of the entrance to Lovejoy's watching the freak show, and all of a sudden there is this dude in the alley climbing into a bunch of plastic wrap and a motorized pump is filling it with air. It takes shape into a giant clear plastic bubble, with the dude inside. Some other dudes in blow-up creature suits are around him, and they all take off in a little march down sixth street, the dude walking in his bubble like a hamster. I admit, at first I was jaded and assumed the whole thing was a corporate publicity stunt a la Red Bull or Gibson Guitars, and scoffed at everyone who glommed around the guy snapping pictures like lemmings. But then, word spreads quickly that it's actually the lead singer of the Flaming Lips, Wayne Coyne, who was about to play a "secret" show that night at Eternal, around the corner from Lovejoy's. Ever the lemming, I managed to snap this picture as they trotted off into the night:

If you look really closely, you can see Coyne in the bubble.


Friday, March 17th: This day I took it super easy, sipping AJ Porter at LJ while some mediocre bands played. The earplugs helped. I had two things planned - catch The Divorce at some random magazine/label party down the street at The Drink (eww), and then run over to the Lucky Lounge to see Visqueen who were playing an unofficial party for a label called Justice Records. I got upstairs at The Drink with plenty of time to see The Divorce, from Seattle. This was the definite highlight so far -- and found myself a tad obsessed with the lead singer (really, did I need to take THAT many pictures of them??). Check out The Divorce's music at www.myspace.com/thedivorce. I luv these boys.

(check out the icky stripper poles on the stage - what the hell goes on at this bar?)






Exhilarated, I sprinted over to the Lucky Lounge and saw Visqueen on stage. I zoomed up to the front of the crowed, started rocking out, only to hear the last few bars of their last song. Thank you, good night! Rachel was in town to sing backing vocals for all of Neko Case's performances, and this was Visqueen's only show, alas.

Saturday, March 18th: This day was spent with M., as he was finally done toiling at Lovejoy's for the week. We biked over to Jovita's for the series of bands sponsored by Twangfest, a St. Louis festival. First up was Two Car Garage, from Columbus, Ohio. They play that hard rock twang that reminded me a lot of Radio Nationals, a Seattle band I used to like. They were really loud but in a good, stand up and take notice kind of way. We had this little rickety table right by the side of the stage where we ate migas and a taco salad and drank coffee. Yay for Jovita's.

Two Car Garage:


The main reason for going to Jovita's that day was so I could see The Long Winters, another great Seattle band. I hadn't seen them since the Capitol Hill Block Party in 2001 or 2002, and I admire John Roderick's songwriting a lot. They have various incarnations, but today it was just two of them, guitar and bass with vocal harmonies. Nice! I feel a sort of kindred relationship to Roderick, as he also grew up in Anchorage. He managed to become cool, though, unlike most of us. At one point in his life he walked from Amsterdam to Istanbul.

This day Roderick looked a bit like he was in the witness protection program:


Saturday night, thanks to one of M.'s friends who works at Stubb's, we were let in to the all-star show of the week: What Made Milwaukee Famous, Rhett Miller, Roseanne Cash, Lyle Lovett, and The Pretenders. I was so thrilled for WMMF - up on the big stage at Stubb's, bathed in lights...sigh. They sounded great, and will someone please sign them already? I heard rumors of Barsuk, but no news yet.



Rhett Miller, cute as a button as always:


Roseanne Cash (She sang a duet with Lovett while I was in the bathroom):


A grainy Mr. Lovett, who was the highlight of the whole evening, aside from the drunken assholes standing by us during his set. I love how all the band members wear suits:


Chrissy Hynde & The Pretenders!

Ms. Hynde, an animal rights activist, asked if anyone had ever actually seen a slaughter house (appropo as we were all standing behind a barbeque restaurant), and commented that it looked a lot like "this" - meaning all of us standing there crammed in to a fenced-in space. I have to say it wasn't quite that bad, as us humans could roam around quite freely and it was relatively clean that night - but I enjoyed her point. It was truly awesome to see her but I was pretty beat by then, so we left before her encore (I later heard there were two).

And that concludes my SXSW odyssey. I'm pooped just writing about it! It was all free, all fun, and I can't wait for next year.