The Housemartins - Build

Two of my cats' graves and their crosses on Rainey Street, Austin, have now been paved over for bars and condos.

 

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Clambering men in big bad boots
Dug up my den, dug up my roots
Treated us like plasticine town
They build us up and knocked us down

From Meccano to Legoland
Here they come with a brick in their hand
Men with heads filled up with sand
It's build

It's build a house where we can stay
Add a new bit everyday
It's build a road for us to cross
Build us lots and lots and lots and lots and lots

Whistling men in yellow vans
They came and drew us diagrams
Showed us how it all worked out
And wrote it down in case of doubt

Slow, slow and quick, quick, quick
It's wall to wall and brick to brick
They work so fast, it makes you sick
It's build

It's build a house where we can stay
Add a new bit everyday
It's build a road for us to cross
Build us lots and lots and lots and lots and lots

Oh, it's build
It's build
It's build

Down with sticks and up with bricks
In with boots and up with roots
It's in with suits and new recruits
It's build

It's build a house where we can stay
Add a new bit everyday
It's build a road for us to cross
Build us lots and lots and lots and lots

 

In Praise of Poise (Joan Crawford, 1968)

Chicago Finale

 

Chicago - We Both Reached For the Gun

This and George Bernard Shaw's "St. Joan" both helped enlighten me re the simultaneous falsity and utter-seriousness-of-consequences of the ability (or lack of) to manipulate public (and private) opinion. I'd already as a kid begun to have horrified suspicions that the world might be run by such manipulation; the art helped me realize that I wasn't crazy for thinking so.

 

When you're good to Mama - Chicago (LETRA ESPAÑOL)

Coming Together

Not there yet, by any means, but... getting there. My new fambly members--the tall shelf in the corner and the gray couch--were delivered today. I've been here a month and only now am able to sit down in my living room. I have now been utterly frazzled since December, and this scene, despite the boxes in the center, relaxes me somewhat: SOME progress toward normalcy.

Jodi Arias Theme Song

"It was a murder, but not a crime."

(The whole thing is interesting, but see especially Catherine Zeta-Jones starting at 4:16...goosebumps.)

 

A Belated Valentine

While shopping online today for throw pillows for my new couch, I was figuratively throwing everything that even minorly struck my fancy into my Amazon cart, kind of waiting for a "unifying motif" to develop, after which I could edit the selections down to about 4. I initially had just done a search for "throw pillows red black gray" to at least narrow down the color scheme I wanted for my upcoming gray couch. I liked all sorts of things with the requisite red/black/gray: plain, stripes, geometric, elephants from India. But then a theme did emerge: umbrellas, of all unexpected-to-me things. I'll wait 'til the couch and all cushions get here and take a picture to show you exactly what I came up with. Here, though, is a pillow I was initially on the fence about. I LOVED how it looked overall. But... were the heart balloons too much? How did it fit in with the other "umbrella"-related pillows? The latter, I justified with, "OK, looks like stormy weather here; and the circular object could be considered open-umbrella-like as seen from above..." But the damn heart balloons floating around?!

Well, as it happens: On Valentine's Day this year, I was waiting for a bus across from a Dollar Store, where a group of people were trying, mainly successfully, to herd a mass of helium-filled red heart-shaped mylar balloons into the back of their SUV. One balloon, though, escaped unnoticed. (I kept waiting for one of the little kids in the bunch to express dismay, but it was a clean getaway.) The balloon initially hovered only about 12 feet above the store and parking lot, then got its wind and rose and rose and rose, eventually crossing above me and going so high up that it disappeared into the gray clouds completely.

The whole process, and progress, was interesting to me! Yes, yes, I was aware of the rather cheesy symbolism of me alone on a street corner on Valentine's Day watching the lone heart-shaped balloon making its way bravely into the ether. A bit too much, perhaps. But interesting, nonetheless. (I similarly often get a minor thrill out of seeing weeds sprouting up from cracks in city sidewalks. And I actually teared up when seeing the floating plastic bag in "American Beauty.")

OK, so this pillow was in. I ordered it.

But wait, there's MORE! :) 

Later today, post-pillow-ordering, I found myself once again across the street from the same Dollar Store, this time having a cigarette while waiting to carry out my $6.99 Papa John's pizza Monday special. As I'm standing at the side of Papa John's, puffing away and staring blankly into space, I peripherally notice something low-to-the-ground turning the corner from the back of the building toward where I'm standing. It was a red heart-shaped mylar balloon with "Happy Valentine's Day" written on it. Still with helium enough to keep it barely aloft. Only inches off the ground, it passed in front of me and lodged in the legs of a wrought-iron patio seat outside of the vintage store next door. By this time I was grinning crazily: My balloon! Should I grab it and take it home as a memento of my Valentine's Day, 2015?! Within seconds, though, it had disentangled itself. Now only about 2 feet off the ground, it started to cross the heavily trafficked Burnet Road.

Great, I thought. Here's a REALLY symbolic end to my Valentine's Balloon memory---Heart-Shaped Balloon Carelessly Smushed by Car. (Shades also of my cat getting run over by a car in 1991 as I watched her trying to cross the street.) One car blows by it. Another forces it briefly onto and up its windshield. It hovers in the middle of the two lanes as numerous cars pass on either side. It doesn't stand a chance. After all, it was obviously helium-challenged to begin with a minute earlier, barely inches off the ground. Which car will be the one?

No car. Some second or third or fourth wind took hold of the balloon. It rose. Above all of the cars, past the balconies of the apartments across the street, toward the Dollar Store from whence it came, and then...off into the ether, until I again lost sight.

True story.

Chicago Soundtrack 2002: 14. I Move On

  

[VELMA]
While truckin' down the road of life, although all hope seems gone,
I just move on.

[ROXIE]
When I can't find a single star to hang my wish upon, I just move on,
I move on.

[VELMA]
I run so fast, a shotgun blast can hurt me not one bit.

[ROXIE]
I'm on my toes cause heaven knows a moving target's hard to hit.

[VELMA & ROXIE]
So as we play in life's ballet, we're not the dying swans, we just move on,
we move on.

[ROXIE]
Just when it seems we're out of dreams, and things have got us down.

[VELMA]
We don't despair, we don't go there, we hang our bonnets out of town.

[VELMA & ROXIE]
So there's no doubt we're well cut out to run life's marathon, we just move on,
we just move on.

So fleet of foot, we can't stay put, we just move on.
Yes, we move on!

Really fun to watch on a 42-in TV...

Chicago! (Thanks, TCM!) I wasn't so sure about my purchase earlier today--who cares about local news and "Bar Rescue" writ larger--but... "Chicago" looked really special.

 

Flashback to 2002 when "Chicago" first came out: My friend Kathy and I went to see it at a theater and loved it so much that afterward we immediately drove to a Walmart to find the soundtrack. We then went back to her place to listen (and rather drunkenly dance to) over and over again, driving her husband, who by this time was trying to sleep, nuts. A scene that was later repeated almost exactly on Oscar night, except that time the incredibly patient man had been forewarned and had thus steeled himself.

 

 

 

In "Study" news...

 

As you can see: Here's a case of me now HAVING a separate study for nothing but books and desk, but... some of the stuff I have in it aren't working at all. The little desk is fine, the size I wanted (after the 2-ft-wide rolling cart for my computer I had at the old place, it's grand.)

 

What bugs me most blatantly (aside from all the cords) is the chair I'm using for a desk chair--back when I had one room to live in, this chair was just fine. As it is, though, it's a white kitchen chair in the middle of a wannabe earth-toned study! See? The money going out is never-ending, since there's no way I'm aesthetically going to allow this to continue.

 

A more minor point is the beige chair and ottoman: I bought the chair, used, when I lived at the old small place. Paid under $100 for it, a good Crate and Barrel chair. Seemed huge and comfy at the time. (Not that I ever sat in it--I was always on my computer or lying in bed channel-surfing.) Weeks ago, in the same trip to the same store where I picked out my bedroom set, they charged a flat $80 fee for however much you wanted delivered. So I thought that this ottoman would be nice to toss in with the rest of the stuff... Once it got delivered, though: It's HUGE! It nearly completely dwarfs the chair. So now, in the back of my mind...got to get a new chair to fit the ottoman. (First-World Problems: Glad to participate in them for the first time in 8 years.)

More on Emerging from Chaos

For one thing, I can now download pictures again! I felt stymied not being able to, because of some glitch in somewhere that I wasn't able to figure out a way to work around until tonight. For instance, I wanted to document what my old place looked like all cleared out, as I made my last farewell (to 4 years of utter STRESS and sleeping many a day away while also, honestly, being a bit comforted by pretending it was a little treehouse club or that I was a teen with a really good bedroom), and I wanted to show what my brand new place looked like empty... But knowing that, while able to TAKE the photos, I was unable to download and share them made me feel so defeated, I didn't even bother taking them to begin with.

It's interesting how addicted one becomes to one's "electronic life." My 2-month-long lack of digital camera use bummed me out; my 2 DAYS without Internet/TV during the transfer from one place to another FREAKED me out; my new flatscreen not being delivered on time bummed me out (and I was nervous the whole time my brother was hooking the thing up for me, dreading that something was going to go wrong)...

New Place

After a full month at my new place, I'm only now starting to settle in properly. There are still some boxes and bins of CRAP sitting around in every room, but there are at least STARTING to be pockets of calm and order.

I am absolutely in love with the bedroom furniture that I had delivered less than 2 weeks ago. Prior to its delivery, I had the cheap full-size mattress with springs poking me, its unoffensive box springs that weren't really springs, and a metal frame. And that's ALL I had in the bedroom. My old place had 8 built-in drawers, so that's where all my undies/socks/T's were housed; at the new place, they all sat around in cardboard boxes or on the floor -- depressing! But not any more! Below are some shots of my bedroom as I've just started organizing it. There's still some junk lying around, all the art isn't hung, my new bedding still hasn't arrived, my new lamps haven't arrived, but... it's a beginning! (My absolute favorite thing is that sexy dresser, and being able to put my deco tray of perfumes upon it! Also love having a queen-size bed, which makes me feel like a real adult--dammit that I only have my old comforter to put on it.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some other major headway being made in the last few days: I FINALLY got my new TV!!! Below is what I used to have (pictured amid the chaos of the last couple of weeks at my old place while I packed)-- a 1999 Panasonic, bought from Craigslist for $20 when I first got back from New York.

 

 

 

And below is my new 42-in flatscreen TV, which was paid for a week ago but only shipped in Saturday. (My brother was kind enough to pick it up and hook it up for me... I tried lifting it in the store, and could not.) Still a TV amid chaos, but... not as much chaos. And a much bigger space to be chaotic in! (I especially can't wait to roll out that red carpet!) :)

 

 

 

The next step in this whole process: A couch! To come this Thursday. (It's dark gray, and I want to do my living room in gray, black, red, and pink... which means ultimately getting rid of the current TV stand and the CD shelf, plus getting a black coffee table/side tables, plus window treatments... More money being sucked away. :(   (I put a "frowney-face" and it is scary, but... I know exactly how deprived I've been for the past 8 years, since I sold EVERYTHING and moved to NYC back in early 2007. I have a LITTLE guilt about all the spending going on now, but... only a little. I feel like I've paid plenty of dues. "To everything there is a season...")



Ants

I hope I haven't been too influenced by reading Zelda Fitzgerald bios recently (one of the reasons doctors diagnosed her as "schizophrenic" was that she mentioned that people seemed like ants to her...). Uh-oh. This past week, while walking from the bus along the sidewalk to work and then into the building/up the elevator/down the hall to my office, I couldn't help but notice the "friendly face of acknowledgement" that I felt I had to make each time I passed someone. This is pretty much the same as ants touching their antennae as they pass each other. (Or like dogs sniffing butts. Each species has its own ways of determining vibes from its other members.)

Mr. America

 

 

Elvis Presley - Something Blue (take 7)

 

 

John Lennon: Nobody Loves You (When You're Down and Out) 1974

Home version of the song from the "Walls and Bridges" album.

 

Nobody loves you when you're down and out
Nobody sees you when you're on cloud nine
Everybody's hustlin' for a buck and a dime
I'll scratch your back and you scratch mine

I've been across to the other side
I've shown you everything, I got nothing to hide
And still you ask me, do I love you, what it is, what it is?
All I can tell you is, it's all show biz
All I can tell you is, it's all show biz

Nobody loves you when you're down and out
Nobody knows you when you're on cloud nine
Everybody's hustlin' for a buck and a dime
I'll scratch your back and you knife mine

I've been across the water now so many times
I've seen the one eyed witchdoctor leading the blind
And still you ask me, do I love you, what you say, what you say?
Every time I put my finger on it, it slips away
Every time I put my finger on it, it slips away

Well I get up in the morning
And I'm looking in the mirror to see, ooo wee
Then I'm lying in the darkness
And I know I can't get to sleep, ooo wee

Nobody loves you when you're old and gray
Nobody needs you when you're upside down
Everybody's hollerin' 'bout their own birthday
Everybody loves you when you're six foot in the ground

 

Serve Yourself [June 27 1980]

 

 

Horses (Azle, Texas)

The brief horses in my field were always rushing at me, or away.
It got to where I was scared to either ride or feed. Anything could happen:
The sun off the tin dish, the actual snake in the grass.

My neighbor rode much better -- bareback, behind her, we'd leap creeks
A dare, no doom, in each stumble up banks

The girl was bold; the horse, too. He didn't stand a chance.
I was safe as I'd ever be.

Distasteful Is the Night

I don't think I've ever read F. Scott Fitzgerald's last complete novel, "Tender Is the Night," all the way through. But after reading two Zelda bios in the last two weeks and learning that this particular novel deals with the so-called "turning-point" in their marriage, I had to give it another go.

It's fine. Fitzgerald is usually psychologically relatively astute when it comes to group dynamics. (He get kudos, at least, for TRYING, in this case.) But at one point I started running into enough annoying, ridiculous stuff like this (about the main character's wife, an 18-year-old love interest, and a random hanger-on):

"Their point of resemblance to each other and their difference from so many American women, lay in the fact that they were all happy to exist in a man's world -- they preserved their individuality through men and not by opposition to them. They would all three have made alternatively good courtesans or good wives not by the accident of birth but through the greater accident of finding their man or not finding him."

This kind of thing isn't the main jist of the novel, but it crops up enough to make me start to view the whole thing with distaste. Fitzgerald's prose is often beautiful enough to make me not want to dislike him. But the above makes me tilt toward dislike, similar to whatever D. H. Lawrence book I was reading years ago when he suddenly started declaring a 6-year-old girl (a 6-year-old girl!) to be a "bitch" and a "seductress," representative of all women.

I only very vaguely care about authors' personal proclivities, but when they start presenting said proclivities in their work as TRUTHS, I do indeed have a problem with it.

Fitzgerald died in 1940, at age 44. His smug novel about the beginning of his real-life wife's psychological breakdown, published in 1934, was, appropriately, his last.