Archive | December, 2011

Music for the Moment

21 Dec

The best quality music brings to my life is the ability, over most other art-forms, to tap me into primal urges, simple but profound needs, desires and truths. It affects me from the inside out, makes my heart beat faster, harder, louder. It activates and stimulates both sides of my brain at once, provoking thought and feeling. At once we connect with others who are sharing the same frequency and sensation when reacting to this music; but also there’s an independent, unique memory now attached to your story, forever marking this era in your life. Whenever you hear that song or album, you’ll immediately be thrust back to those sense perceptions and emotions accompanying this tune. For me, this experience is still somewhat rare, perhaps because I have a dog like loyalty to musicians or bands and I’ll obsessively listen to them for months, even years, in a small group of others until someone snaps me out of my trance. And there’s simply not enough time in the day to experience enough art. Regardless of how or why, I enjoy these extraordinary experiences with music, and songs in particular. I’m fortunate in receiving this gift from people I know, people I call friends and soul mates, the members of the exquisitely special and talented band whysowhite. I plan to share many insights and thoughts on my journey with whysowhite in the future, but for now I just look forward to their impending reunion, leading to a great gift for humanity. There’s enough to placate me until then, please give them a listen and spread the Love.

Please check out this video on my hub’s vimeo page, where he showcases his hard work while shining a light on others. There are a few gems in there, and two joyful, infectious whysowhite videos, providing merely a speck, a glimmer into the infinitely talented 7 man band we can’t get enough of, and those we’re patiently waiting until we get even just a little more. While you’re at it, hop over to our friend and enigmatic member of whysowhite’s music blog, Moonspeak. The man lives, breathes, communicates music. His knowledge is cavernous, taste impeccable, and instincts are more sound than anyone I’ve ever known. His equally beautiful and talented brother (another profound member of wsw) lends his skills and personality to this very well thought-out selection of artists, albums and songs. Imagine Van Gogh having an art blog. You’d be a fool not to read, listen, watch, absorb and retain. I’m forever changed by their presence in my life and now I’m aiming to spread the joy and love they’ve so generously given me. Enjoy this feast for your eyes, ears, minds and hearts, and then spread the soulful love.

Currently there are a few songs playing on shuffle, both in my iPod and in the space between my ears, where my beautifully operatic voice sings to me while I tread lightly on the slippery, cold streets of Chicago. It’s pretty incredible how great I sound inside my head, or how great my mind plays back songs I’ve listened to on repeat. I do my best to open myself to any genre of music. I’ve found modern country to be a bit nauseating but I’m willing to admit my reluctance in listening to a lot of it, so there’s bound to be some great artists out there I just haven’t made time for, choosing instead to listen to every single Black Keys song over and over, keeping my ears occupied between podcasts and until their next album releases. Let me quickly recommend El Camino if you haven’t given it a go yet. It carries this great quality of feeling nostalgic, providing everything I’ve loved while somehow bringing something new to the table. It’s quick drum beats, unique guitar riffs and some seriously special use of the keyboards. I’ve been in love with the shy two-man band for 5 years now and could not be happier for their success. I will not hide my enthusiasm simply because they’ve become popular and there’s sure to be backlash. I’m sticking by them and strongly urge everyone to explore their earlier work. One of my favorite comedic artists lent his talents to spread the Black Keys greatness.

Their albums tell their own specific story by exploring with various melodies and tones, instrumental and lyrical themes, while weaving them all together with a single thread that is signature of the Black Keys. They evolve their sound while staying true to their essence. Give it all a go. If I were to encourage you to listen to a few, perhaps one from each album, I’d of course say listen to them all (I change my favorites depending on the day, the mood, what sounds and words I’m resonating with), find your own story within the album’s; but for right now, give Nobody But You, Heavy Soul, Have Love Will Travel, Everywhere I Go, When The Lights Go Out, You’re The One, Same Old Thing, The Only One and Sister a go. I just want to express how difficult that was. As I leafed through their amazing catalogue, I found it nearly impossible to choose just one song from each album. Each song is on it’s own planet, with Dan Auerbach’s lead vocals showcasing more than just a great rock range, he chooses a key for a reason and that reason is to better tell the story. The wise progression and combination of instruments makes their music a perfect package. You may want to check out Dearest, the excellent Buddy Holly cover, and Dan’s solo album, Keep it Hid is a densely rich album with a slew of favorites as well. Check out Heartbroken, In Disrepair. And last thing, one of the most beautiful songs I’ve ever heard is from their album Rubber Factory. It’s called The Lengths. It was the first song I ever wrote about. I’ve heard it hundreds of times and never tire, my heart wants more. I hope you love any of these half as much as I do, because I know you’ll feel the transformative effects great music can provide. Being a human being is awesome!

I don’t know how it happened but somehow I managed to gather a significant number of very talented friends, who also have talented friends, so like a bunch of hippies we just gather and have artistic conversations and I get to be wowed on a consistent basis by the limitless potential of the people around me. At times, I feel insecure and unworthy, like I should be relegated to another room where I just listen but don’t actually participate with those who are clearly on a different plane. It’s because most of them are artists and that’s a difficult word for me to attach to myself, regardless if I feel creative, I cannot give myself that descriptor, but I’m opening to it. They never make me feel like I don’t belong, which is a credit to their hearts and their inherent generosity, so I figure the least I can do is express my awe, my admiration, respect, enthusiasm and Love the best way I can, through a rambling selection of words. My roommates, who happen to be my brother and my husband, both are aspiring cinematographers, geeking out over lighting and shots in ways I cannot even comprehend, but I love watching their passion and seeing them work together. The videos provided above include a collaboration of their skills and artistry with our ingenious friends. They recently were members of a small crew helping to make a music video with another up-and-coming group of musicians, Secret Colours, on their gut punching rock song Faust.

It begins with a low, quick bass riff, and quiet lyrics, almost whispering, lurking, preying, like a tiger slowly approaching it’s dinner. Then, in a flash of musical brilliance, the base goes to 11, instruments in fast forward, pulling you deep into the moment, into the reality of the song. It moves like moments in life, fragments of stillness, waiting, approaching, and then bam, you’re in it, no escape, just ride it out. According to legend, Faust is a scholar who sells his soul to the devil, in exchange for knowledge and power. A befitting metaphor for any era in humanity, Secret Colours builds their rock anthem beautifully, with gripping lyrics, music that drives the story and punches it up in the right moments. This song has been on a short list of songs providing the soundtrack to my life at the moment. I certainly recognize moments where I have and occasionally still feel faustian, but mainly I’m just drawn to this sound. I liked the song immediately, from one second in, with the first bar I said yes, I want to hear more. When I learned my bro and hub were working on their video, my excitement shot through the roof and I knew I had to do my best to share this beautifully combined gift. The crew busted their balls, shooting into the early, freezing Chicago morning, and outside in the cold dark of night (sounds like a corny line from a screenplay, apologies), then going back to earning a modest income to support their passion until they hopefully reap some fruits of their labor. It certainly is a labor of love, and they all deserve and have earned this success. I hope it continues to grow for all of them. Enjoy the video, if you like it, share it! And feel free to pass along recommendations to me, that’s how most brilliant works of art have come my way. I’m grateful, keep it coming.

The last song I’m choosing to share as the year approaches it’s dissolution is another tune I liked immediately, within seconds, and after just one listen it stuck, permanently weaved into the fabric of my being and onto the script in my brain. This song affects me in the most profound way. It conjures and inspires primal instincts, making me hungry, thirsty, lustful, provoking a different breath, internal swelling and movement, and one of few that reminds me how I prefer to love and be loved, with reckless abandon, raw, cut open, prepared to bleed out forever. That may sound a bit twisted, but if you ignore propriety and how society relentlessly tells us to behave, and instead turn the focus inward, respond instinctually, combining our very advanced left and right hemispheres to operate with thoughtful passion, organized enthusiasm and pure, unadulterated Love, everything will feel much more sensual, natural and heightened. Often the world diminishes the importance of satisfying these intense urges, telling us our bodies are dirty, our minds are sick, and reason always supersedes impulse. When it comes to potentially hurting others, these rules are important and should be heeded, but when we’re deeply entrenched in moments where following the instincts and/or the heart will benefit your soul, aid in your evolution, and we instead choose fear, perceiving judgment or ridicule, we lose. This song makes me want to run naked into the roaring ocean, passionately kiss regardless of the surroundings and satisfy any other urge or impulse my soul sees fit. The song is Future Starts Slow, by the Kills.

It starts with very rhythmic, tribal drums, activating the pelvis, eliciting dance, firing up the loins. Then, the hook, a sharp guitar riff, memorable, carving out your heart, the strings plucking somewhere deep in your being. Then simple, beautiful, intelligent lyrics fuck with your mind, tug at your soul.

You can holler
You can wail
You can swing
You can flail
You can thump like a broken sail
But I’ll never give you up
If I ever give you up
My heart will surely fail

I swear I felt those lyrics just in listening to the music, from the beginning. It makes me close my eyes and sway, motion from the inside out. The song builds, slows, and just is perfection, rounding back to what I feel is a bold statement in support of Love, real love, strong loving between two exquisitely primal beings.

You can holler
You can wail
You can blow what’s left of my right mind

You can swing
You can flail
You can blow what’s left of my right mind

Um, yes please. Destroy me with who you are, in every way imaginable, by giving me your genuine self, to the core, in this moment with me. I don’t need your flowers, your greeting cards, or your modern expression of romanticism in front of others. I need passion, laughter, hunger, encouragement and release, in however that manifests in our present. All I want is You.

Sometimes music just makes me want to dance, smile, cry, and any myriad of actions and feelings on the emotional spectrum, from superficial to deep. Music, and most forms of art are expressions of truth, and if something resonates with you, then that’s clearly your truth in that moment. Thinking back to the art I loved as a child and re-living my artistic choices, both in experience and expression, it tells my unique story, giving me a time-line of emotion and thought for phases of my life. How those previous emotional attachments evolve is interesting to observe. Songs that used to make me sad, now make me cry from gratitude and the recognition of change within and without. Some just feel the damn same, clusters of happiness I repeatedly expose myself to and yearn to share with others. Whatever the reason, feel it, and if you feel it’s worth while, share it, whether you’re listening, viewing, tasting, smelling, feeling, reading or some combination of it all.

Absorb. Process. Express. Experience. Thank you.

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No Cable = Quality Content

14 Dec

I spent three years with nine channels and the most appallingly bad commercials, truly, you cannot even fathom the writing and acting during these 30 second stints reminding you not to open 80 credit cards or to be sure not to shake your baby. These ads were aimed at young military men and women, and while it may be helpful to recognize many of those young adults may never have been taught what feels like common sense, they certainly are smart enough to mute bad commercials or torrent their favorite shows from back home. Upon the sweet smell of freedom and recession, we made the wise decision to purchase a top-notch cable plan, because dammit we deserved it. It was pretty great for that year or so. We were able to watch Home Alone 1 and 2, Cool Runnings, MacGruber and other gems no less than 20 times. If I needed a confidence boost, I just popped over to TLC, and absorbed some useless information about the disturbing greed some parents have in this world, needing 20 children, wanting to dye their children’s eye-lashes so they pop, or simply finding one more thing to argue about in a tattoo shop. What the hell are people learning on this channel? I challenge someone to share with me.

Anyway, off the soap box, guilty pleasures are important, but they’re also intoxicating because they allow us to be mentally lethargic, and that’s the last thing this country needs. Get rid of cable, save a good chunk of change in this challenging economy, perhaps go for a walk, practice some yoga or pilates, play a sport, whatever you like to get the energy back to those couch sores we all acquired from hours in sedentary lockdown, and opt instead to watch a great movie from any variety of genres, a classic TV show you may have never seen or could enjoy again, catch up on your satirical news and watch full episodes of the Daily Show and Colbert Report online, or god forbid read a book. I’ve been watching significantly less TV regardless, but eliminating cable was a catalyst in being even more productive and in absorbing valuable content, material that sticks with me, requires my attention and thought and therefore seeks to better me as a human being, in one way or another. Keep your cable if you can afford it, good for you, but maybe peruse the alternatives I’ve provided below for a little boost in the brainwaves. Stave off Alzheimer’s and other mental deterioration by unwinding with quality, in food, content, and company.

I’m going to take a cue from Doug Benson and provide my own 8 word reviews that you can elect to read and move onto the next, or continue on through each review. They’re short and sweet, kind suggestions for good people to explore different options.

Paul- Two men, one lady cuss with an alien.
I start off with a film you’ve probably heard of and maybe even seen. Paul stars two of my favorite comic geniuses, period. Never mind that they’re British, which makes them inherently funnier, less likely to be offended and therefore more likely to seek the smart route to the joke instead of just dressing up like a lady or throwing a bunch of celebrities on screen for 8 minutes at a time in an attempt to tell an excessively phony, non-funny story for the public to spend millions on week after week. Simon Pegg and Nick Frost, the two leading gentleman from such masterpieces as Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz (if you haven’t seen either of these, I don’t know what to say), starting way back in the cult classic sitcom Spaced (also directed by Edgar Wright, an editing genius with a great feel for timing), star in Paul as two comic book nerd best friends just leaving San Diego’s famous ComicCon, driving their Winnebago to the site where the famous Roswell incident took place, Area 51 in Arizona. As fate would have it, out in the middle of nowhere, they encounter an alien named Paul, a pawn for our government for many years, now strategizing a way back to his home planet. Through his decades on our planet and in our country, Paul has learned English and a veritable amount of skills typically belonging to humans, while offering his mind and body for endless testing and use for us to gain advantage.

The information provided above is all you need to know. Sure, it’s implausible but so is Transformers and people keep giving Michael Bay billions of dollars. This has some ingredients most Bay films do not, talented writing and actors. Beyond my two favorite British actors, there’s a short list of comedic stars that I will pay to see anywhere. A personal icon for me, a woman providing laughter on all screens, Kristen Wigg, plays an important and beyond hilarious role when the boys meet her in a campground. My fantasy husband, well, one of them, Jason Bateman, plays an underling to those fat-cats desperate to catch Paul and bring him back to their control. Another SNL genius, Bill Hader, along with Joe LoTruglio, play likably idiotic cops determined to be in on an investigation they mostly know nothing about. And the lovable Seth Rogen provides his distinctive voice to animate Paul. I watched this movie at home, with my comfort food eating cohorts, and we all laughed hard throughout and were pleasantly surprised by how much we loved it. Laughter is a gift, give it to yourself. Watch Paul.

The Proposition- A bloody bearded man has really tough days.
Now for a serious selection. My brother went to film school, and my husband’s currently studying cinematography at an arts school as well, so needless to say I’ve watched a slew of old, new, hardly seen, seen by all, weird, disturbing, heart-warming and every other type of film you can imagine. Many have been great, some have been meh. It’s adorable to hear what people choose to hate, basically because it’s cool and fad to hate something most people and critics loved, but then also the ridiculous nonsense people attach themselves to; I suppose we’re all snobs for something. I’m certainly writing to encourage better choices so I carry my own snobbery, but I can tell you I wouldn’t suggest something simply because it was odd or perceived as cool in some strange world. The Proposition is an Australian western worth its salt and I highly recommend it.

We watched this beautifully shot film on our friend’s projector, with my brother’s bluray copy. Not too shabby. It stars Guy Pearce, someone I’ve always found to be attractive because of his projection of depth, both in skill and in emotion. He seems perpetually unsatisfied and I like people whose minds work that way, I feel it lends to some memorable creativity, but that may just be me. Anyway, he’s understated and exquisite in this movie. After a tragic shooting and raping spree (this film is violent, but only in necessary spurts. It drives the story, forces you to deal with the reality of that time.), his younger brother is wrongfully imprisoned with the threaten of hanging unless his long-time criminal older brother is brought to justice, meaning Guy’s character must kill his older brother to save his innocent one. Heavy shit. Ray Winstone gives a gripping performance as the authority figure behind this deal, seemingly trying to save all he can, including his own wife, from the bleak reality and danger. The story builds beautifully, provides such a gut-wrenching dilemma that you’re invested the whole way through this very heart-wrenching story. Rent it, buy it, watch it somehow.

Black Dynamite- A perfect man gives us lessons in charisma.
This is a movie I’d been wanting to see forever, somehow I saw the preview or read something about it a while back and was never able to get my hands on it until now. Luckily, it now lives in our household, so I can watch it whenever I want, alone. This is a satirical Blaxploitation film, taking place in the 70’s, led by the most beautiful man I’ve maybe ever seen. Michael Jai White plays Black Dynamite, an ex-CIA agent, master in Kung Fu, seeks revenge for his brother’s death and will roundhouse any drug dealer and screw any hoard of women on his path to justice. This movie parodies the many films made by white men in the 70’s, seeking only to exploit black stereotypes. They were written, directed and therefore also acted quite poorly. They’re an important part of our cinematic history and for the genre to be spoofed by brilliant minds who created a genius script, adhering to old directing styles for humor and brilliantly casting the lead and supporting characters made this film a success on many levels. I want more people to see this.

Whether you’re a man or a woman, you’re going to have to adjust to Black Dynamite’s inherent magnitude, sexuality and charisma. He’d charm the pants off of Hitler and is certainly welcome in our house, in any of our rooms and surfaces. Michael Jai White is a gentle, sweet, epically talented actor who carries 8 black belts and the discipline and stillness of a martial artist. That fact alone makes his transformation into Black Dynamite a feat of modern acting. Sure, the character is a brilliant action star, and MJW performed the impressive stunts, but listening to his very interesting take on Blaxploitation and their approach to this film, then watching him transform into this enigmatic, larger than life persona on screen is mind-boggling. I’d imagine his wife enjoys this role very much. The costumes alone should win this film an Oscar. The plot is supported by some stellar actors, like comedy great Tommy Davidson, pure genius here, along with Sally Richardson-Whitfield as one of the female archetypes, oldie but goodies like Arsenio Hall and a long list of other talent providing many laughs and perfectly delivered irony to this delicious film. Can’t wait to watch it again.

The Perfect Host- Which one is the creepy weirdo in this story?
We came across this film on our Netflix Instant Queue options. It is a bit frustrating that the company raised their prices, but you have to give them credit for pioneering rentals at home and giving us the ability to do what we do best, veg out on the couch, not even needing to get up to rent a flick, just scroll or search your options and see what happens. It’s nice to go into a film with limited knowledge or expectations, and that’s how this film was for me. I had no clue what I was getting into and I was happy to be brought through this creepy, darkly funny, psychological crime drama in a perpetual state of awe, disgust and confusion. This is a odd-ball pick, but it’s worth watching because it’s fairly original, well acted and pretty damn entertaining.

The main reason this movie succeeds is because of David Hyde Pierce. That’s right. The slightly effeminate brother from Frasier lends his acting chops to this very dense role as a man hosting a sought out criminal, played by Clayne Crawford (sounds like the next winner of Nashville Star). Through various flashbacks and editing we conclude Clayne’s character has committed some sort of robbery and has sustained an injury on his foot, quickly realizing he has not committed the perfect crime and needs a safe hideout, cleverly choosing a rich neighborhood and ultimately settling on a lone David Hyde Pierce. Although we lack details initially, waiting for those important facts to emerge as the story evolves becomes an engaging game of cinematic Clue, leading down a dark, bizarre road, constantly questioning motives, truth and who to pull for. Describing additional events and plot details would only spoil the fun as this is a twisty, turny, wacky genre bending film you should see for yourself and make up your own mind. It was a selection and winner of many great film festivals and deserves the viewership it’s building. Hope you can catch it.

Now, I’d like to casually recommend some great TV on DVD (or the internet), whether you seek it out for purchase, or find some way to rent it, watch it online. I’ve have years worth of musings and scribe detailing my love for what I believe in my soul to be the greatest situational comedy ever made; past, present, future yet to be determined. This show is Arrested Development. If you consider yourself to have a good sense of humor and you’ve yet to see AD, shame on you. It stars my aforementioned dream man, Jason Bateman, and a handful of the best comedic actors of this or any time. I’ve watched every single episode numerous times, and still find new ways to laugh, tiny comedic nuances, and a life-time of humor funnier than anything on any network at any time. If you think you have taste in comedy, then I dare you to watch Party Down. This is akin to Arrested Development, but on Starz, so with nudity, creative use of curse words, hysterical cameos and very entertaining plots for each episode. AD and PD are two of the smartest, most irreverent, witty shows with uniquely hilarious ensemble casts that were taken away from us too soon, but now given life due to critical and cultural success, with movies and future episodes along the way. I cannot fricken wait!

I humbly request we up the ante on how we spend our free time. There is some quality television out there, I’ve written about a few (Breaking Bad, Wilfred, Louie, some shows on Comedy Central), but we seemed doomed to the reality tv bullshit that drains our synovial fluid and wastes our neurons, for good. Our bodies regenerate every 7 years, so with care and good nutrition, we can stay on top of aging. Once hitting adulthood, our brains start to deteriorate, with the only option being how slowly we allow it to dissolve. By wisely choosing what we absorb, even through the joy of entertainment, we can stay ahead of the rate and quality with which we age. It seems a very redundant message at this point, but quality in life is all that matters; in the food you digest, content you ingest, and those you allow to lay on your chest. Choose wisely.

Laugh. Think. Cry. Demand more. Seek more. Be more. Enjoy.

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Birmingham: The He(art) of Alabama

11 Dec

Have you experienced those moments in life where you’re exactly where you want to be, in the company of uniquely wonderful people, in a serene setting surrounded by both natural and man-made beauty, nothing to do, nowhere to go and not a care in the world? I sincerely hope you have. Since becoming an adult, those moments have elongated into sequences, fragmented chunks of time full of my definition of happiness: people I love, great food, and laughter. I was fortunate enough to experience those chunks of time as a child, in a loving family full of home-made meals, and I appreciate those memories and occurrences even more now than I did as an under-developed child; but there’s something about this time in my and my chosen family’s lives that have all culminated into this similar stream of consciousness. I believe we attract those we resonate with at this moment, those that foster our personal evolution, and they teach us because they hold up a mirror and show us who we are, which then leads to change or it leads to dissolution in a variety of forms. Whether you continue to grow with that person and maintain similar priorities determines the length and necessity of that relationship in either of your lives.

For me, the age of 27 has begun an era of consistent creativity, revelation, and metamorphosis. It’s really started since turning 25, when my existing relationships catapulted to newer, deeper connections, and the new friendships gave so much to me, brought so much out of me, and led to where I am today. I give little credit to myself and the majority to good fortune in meeting these people and experiencing what I have. This is all described in thousands of words I hope to formulate into book form someday but for now, suffice it to say I’m constantly overwhelmed by gratitude and by the personal truth that Love is really all I need. We’re living the cliché starving artist lifestyle at the moment, but I could not be happier inside, both with who I’m becoming and those informing and bettering me, personally and professionally. Turning 27 coincided with my brother moving in our cozy Chicago apartment with us. In conjunction with that we became very tight with people who are a family of their own, spending many wondrous summer nights elevating each other through cerebral conversations, laughter and of course, damn good food. An even deeper, intensified awakening bonded us for life when the threat of losing a family member broke us open. You experience someone’s true nature and humanity when vulnerability, sadness and loss are at the forefront, and the miracle of hope, survival and love are restored. I’m continuing to emerge a more caring and creative human being from the experiences leading to this moment and I’m overpowered with gratitude for what these people have shown and continue to give to me. Through their beauty and love, I know my own.

Paradise

The long intro love letter was to provide context in which members of my given and chosen families merged for four days of mystifying delight, days where I felt still inside, full in belly and heart, and lit from within. I had a permanent smile, no concept or care for time, no pressure, no work or roles to play, just the task of broadening my stomach, heart and mind. The time was playful, like an adult’s recess, and I’d relive that few days forever if I could. That’s how special it was. We spent 3 days at a lake house, eating fantastic Thanksgiving turkey and sides, almost as amazing sandwiches with leftovers the next day, and other tasty meals and treats worth describing. We spent the latter part of the weekend in the city of Birmingham, a surprisingly beautiful, charming, artful and delicious town. A place giving the south and Alabama itself a great name. A place I can’t wait to return and a place giving the world some truly remarkable, one of a kind human beings. I plan to write about these people and my experiences with them in length in a different forum, but for now, for food’s sake, I share in a couple of mind and tongue-altering hot spots, 2 of the many great choices this special city has to offer: Al’s and Dreamland BBQ.

After a few days in a timeless bubble full of perfection outside and in, we had more great food while watching Alabama destroy Auburn (I’ll leave my pure disdain for the SEC out of this considering I too am from the south and surrounded by conference stupor.). We got happily buzzed on Bamaritas and southern soul in the middle of the afternoon and patiently waited for sobriety to revisit. When it did, we went out into the dark of night, driving through charming villages, hills and trees, finding better and better points of Birmingham’s spectacular view. We were driven and led by our friend, who thoughtfully provided an excellent soundtrack and the most interesting stories and caveats only a native could provide. I was wowed, in awe, joyfully appreciative of the company I was in and grateful for this new education. And not surprisingly, I was hungry. For this, late in the evening, we stopped at Al’s, a thoughtful, re-imagining of southern fast food with a mediterranean flare. It was packed with people housing a hunger and thirst proportionate to ours, and similar hysterical enthusiasm in their eyes. When I’m hungry and I can smell the food I’m about to eat, I’m manic, there’s no communicating with me unless it’s involving food. Something my mastic8onthis guidebooks will provide is short tips on eating and traveling in unknown areas. This is obvious, but when in doubt, eat where and what the locals eat. Luckily, we were with a local and he advised we order the Barbecue Chicken Baker. Sounds amazing doesn’t it? You don’t even know what it is and just the words on the page probably conjure up images, aromas, textures and flavors, leading to sweat and salivation. My mouth is watering just recounting the details, man I want that pain of fullness from deliriously awesome food again.

I know you can't tell what this is, but trust me, it's magnificent!

The BBQ Chicken Baker is $8.95. It appears to be one exorbitantly large baked potato opened to cover a fairly large basket plate, similar to the ones served under hot wings. On top of the piping hot, well executed baked potato was a generous glob of sour cream, butter, finely shredded sharp cheddar cheese, green onion, a butter sauce, bacon bits, and tender shreds of grilled chicken. The kicker, moist-maker, game-changer ingredient that made this dish a fucking awe-inspiring memorable experience was the mediterranean barbecue sauce slathered on top of it all. I took it all in, absorbed the visual masterpiece, breathed in the waft of diabetic air, and then gave myself the ultimate pleasure by mixing all the ingredients into human slop and shoving it into my mouth, slowly chewing, throwing the taste around every corner of my tongue, feeling the heat on my gums, the textures on my teeth until finally deciding to send it off into my esophagus, wishing it good luck on the digestive journey. I’d be seeing it again soon, no doubt, and it was worth it. We helped it down with perhaps the greatest iced beverage I’ve ever had. Sweet mint tea. Sweet tea, a figment of pure joy in the south, made just slightly better with the hint of mint. Ahh, I’m so mad I can’t get that readily and easily at this very moment but of course am supremely, utterly grateful to have had it in the first place. It rounded out an amazing few days, afternoon and evening. Good company, conversation and food. What a lucky bitch.

My taste buds are a bunch of tiny whores. They’ve been around the block, the proverbial village bicycle, everything’s had a ride down my digestive highway and I’m not ashamed. I will not apologize, not even to my colon. Somehow a mere 12 hours later my stomach was ready for another beating, such a masochist, deriving pleasure from the challenge of grandiose amounts of flavorful grub. We were given many choices, signature B-Ham fare, and we opted for more BBQ, obviously. When in Alabama, do as the southerners do. So we ate, drank more sweet tea and watched more football. This time, at Dreamland BBQ! I feel on this day we were operating on a very slow clock time, seemingly trying to fend off the inevitable, the end of a very significant weekend. We had a long drive ahead of us, a lot of time to process the experience and so all we wanted to do was linger in the moment, savor the flavor, so to speak.

I ate all of this and much more.

Up to this point we had only Pleasantville weather, 70 degrees, clear skies, still winds and bright sunshine. Seemingly coinciding with our emotions, this was a rainy, cloudy, cold day. The sky was crying tears we didn’t want to acknowledge. We placated ourselves for one more beautiful hour by sharing a multitude of divine southern barbecue. We shared two racks of fall off the bone ribs accompanied by their famous tangy BBQ sauce. Just as important were the assortment of artery clogging sides, a staple in any genuine southern meal. The mac n cheese was the best for me, but I slurped up the baked beans, toast dipped in the distinctly tasty sauce, thick cut freedom fries, and really stellar potato salad (which usually makes me vomit, cold potatoes, get that shit out of my face.). It was a family style round table, shiny happy people with barbecue sauce all over their hands and faces, working that food down with laughter and sweet tea, of course. The topper for lunch and the weekend was the best batch of banana pudding I’d ever had. I felt so nostalgic, suddenly four years old again asking my mom for nilla wafers as I watched ET for the 50th time. I’m grateful to have new comforting memories attached to food, music and now the city of Birmingham. Y’all should go.

The south has a stigma, we all know what it is, whether we perpetuate it ourselves, believe it in our hearts or not, it’s there. It’s important to recognize each place’s value and potential, and that no person or home should be defined by our politicians, our loudest mouths, or our past behavior. Just as Louisville is a light shining in Kentucky, redefining that state for the country, Birmingham is that beacon in Alabama. I loved it before I arrived because of the people it brought to my life and now I can express objectively how much it has to offer, beyond my very special sentiment toward it. If you cannot afford to travel to a larger city or beyond the United States, that does not mean you can’t broaden your mind and feel joy by simply exploring a neighboring region, state, or city you’ve never been before. Any place worth going should have damn good food, and Birmingham does; along with diversity, culture, beautiful nature and loving people. If you can make it to the Ham, do it. Keep it depeche. It’s an extraordinary place and deserves the pride, love and respect from it’s natives and visitors.

Road trips are an excellent opportunity to get to know your region and your fellow passengers. Pack it to the brim, listen to the current soundtrack to your life, eat some local fare along the way and allow yourself to be opened by the new experience. It will only enrich you as a human being and deepen your connection with others. If you’re refusing to go somewhere because of a preconceived notion or judgment, give yourself the gift of being wrong and ultimately be pleasantly surprised by making up your own mind. We’re all better off by recognizing the charm in people’s differences and then finding similarities that thread us all together. Get off the couch and into your car.

Dream. Drive. Fly. Laugh. Eat. Together. Enjoy.

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Comedic Inquisition: WTF with Marc Maron

7 Dec

It’s been many months since I wrote about a podcast, although I casually mention them when I write about comedy, which seems to happen weekly now, but I’ve been inspired lately by many, choosing to listen to interviews and discussion over music. I also seek it out, and as I’ve mentioned with music and fashion and other art-forms, I do the opposite. So clearly I’m wrangling on some sort of addiction here, but it feeds my soul so much and fills me with this strange hope and belief that I can foster whatever form of satire I’m pursuing into something worthwhile. The top of the list for me is What The Fuck (more notably, WTF) with long-time stand-up Marc Maron.

Marc is a comic’s comic. If you enjoy stand-up comedy and have followed the movement even loosely over the past couple decades then you should know who he is. I’d be willing to bet many of you don’t simply because you’re living normal lives, not obsessing over weird podcasts and the intricacies of humor. Leave that to geeks like me. The staple in choosing what to write about comes from an enthusiasm placed in my brain that I then want to share, ultimately to a public who doesn’t give a fuck. But my hope is those who are reading this do, and even if you don’t listen, you’re now aware of this existence, of this phenomenon that is podcasting and how much great content there is now via this medium.

Marc is in his late 40’s. He’s lived everywhere a comic should live, now settling in Southern California, still touring clubs like genetically motivated comedians do, and frequently now conducting interviews out of his garage, with some of the best comedic artists of our time, from many decades ago through today. Since I was a kid, watching old Chevy Chase, Eddie Murphy, Bill Murray, and Richard Pryor films (there are many more you can fill in, Steve Martin, Dan Akroyd, etc.), I longed to get to know these people better, know them for who they really are. A far-fetched notion and dream, but I felt their stand-up, sketch performances or film/TV roles, coupled with interviews on Johnny Carson provided a glimmer into their psyche, into how they became who they were. Sometimes it was not a pretty picture, and for others, it proved to be very enlightening and encouraging. Nothing I’ve seen in the past has provided the depth of background into these human beings like WTF, and for that reason, I am addicted.

Marc’s stand-up has evolved into this self-effacing, abrasive, intelligent rant, daring you to dislike him as much as he dislikes himself. He seems to be a man of integrity, painfully honest regarding his mistakes and past and present forms of psychosis, and seems easily nonconformist, not adhering to cultural role-playing or our societal script. In the beginning of the WTF podcast, Marc takes us through his current metamorphosis and growth, either via the description of who he’s interviewing that day, how that person has affected him or merely his take on them as a comedic artist, and ultimately how certain psychological revelations has informed and manifested into his comedy and his interaction with others. Or he may simply be experiencing some personal challenge, whether it be a relationship, an encounter on the road, or just too much time alone. I resonate with how his mind seems to work. He’s constantly questioning, wondering, dissecting and exploring the inner workings of his and others’ minds. On top of his insight, he knows his shit. He comes from an important class of comedians, knows deeply the inner workings of comedy legends and the lesser known artists also involved during each era and therefore he’s a part of a very small cluster of human beings that can call themselves comics. Stand-up is his forte but Marc is aware and involved with comedic artists of varying genres and so the beautiful conversations that emerge are beyond informative, cut much deeper than entertaining and are a catalyst for epiphanies and growth as an artist and a human being.

This seemingly natural wordiness and inquisitive mind leads Marc to be an excellent conversationalist, beyond what we see as a smart interview or a top-notch journalist, Marc very casually and effortlessly takes his cohort on a ride through the depths of comedy, the why and how, exposing the truth and meat of every story. He typically starts at the beginning of their careers, taking a linear road trip with occasional stops to let what is clearly an interesting and very genuine moment unfold. We learn how artists, both well-known and practically unknown, became who they are at this moment, how familial, religious, political, geographical, psychological influences made a mark on how their journey transformed, how their careers evolved, grew or stifled, through peaks and valleys. Naturally, the most memorable episodes of WTF are not with well-known comics everyone already loves, although those provide insight and previously unknown information as well, but for me the interviews with artists I was either completely unaware of or only vaguely familiar were so pleasantly surprising and thought-provoking.

Marc has referred to himself as a farm-team comic, alluding to perhaps his perceived mid-level of success in the comedic world. Similar to some truly remarkable music, film, painting and other art out there, your level of value and success is often determined by your financial worth, your level of fame, the amount of twitter followers you’ve acquired or some other arbitrary measure of achievement. It should be obvious that despite this lack of millions, in dollars or followers, Marc and many other artists out there have been propelling some genius, unique work for a long time. And I believe it’s because he hasn’t risen to a Dane Cook level that he continues to progress and is now changing our world with such a special podcast. Sure there are certain “stars” he’s excited to interview or hopeful to get into his garage, but he knows more than anyone the depth of talent out there deserving of a conversation with him. The podcast has catapulted him to more fame, more followers, potentially more money, but he remains true to the club comic scene and to his objective as a podcaster.

The podcast has opened my eyes and delved me deeper into my comedy geek world, but it’s also affected my depth as a human being. I’m grateful to know more about so many artists I already respected and to have the exposure to dozens more I never knew. Recently, I’ve re-listened to episodes with those we’ve lost, Patrice O’Neal specifically. I cried, actual tears, upon not only hearing the news of Patrice’s stroke, but in particular hearing the sad news of his passing. These artists, and Patrice in particular, are as one of a kind as you can get. Him, Marc and others deserve more success than this difficult world has given them but they’ve retained their integrity and a painful level of honesty, disguising harsh truths in the most clever, wise jokes. They give me hope and courage. If I can be true to myself in my endeavors as a teacher, writer and human being, then I can feel less like a rat in the race and more of a success internally, and hopefully the external will show itself eventually.

I find it confusing and daunting to process just how important comedy is to me and the world. There are people I know fairly well, who I’d never wish any ill-will or negativity of course, but who’ve left for whatever reason and I felt sad for their loved ones and them personally, but held no sadness within myself. I’ve never met Patrice, Marc and many other comedians out there, but their impact on me has been nothing short of profound, and with the podcast, we not only get to know those we already love and respect even better, but we also remember them, honor them and have a format to share them with others. And that is a damn gift. It makes you ponder your own impact and inspires you to absorb more and to have the courage to influence in your own positive way. It is my dream to meet these artists and have my own conversations someday, and because of this incredible podcast, the bar is set high and I’m grateful to have learned and been affected by this.

This podcast has well over 200 episodes and is free, with many avenues to subscribe. There’s also an excellent app for iPhones and Droids. I’ll warn you, it’s addictive, but in the best way.

Listen. Actively. Reflect. Laugh. Project. Enjoy.

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A Buoyant Heart

6 Dec

I’ve been so appallingly fortunate my entire life to have been surrounded by good people. Even those dealing with personal demons still retained their humanity and their ability to love. Since becoming an adult and encountering different walks of life, while still fostering existing relationships, my fellow earthlings have taught me invaluable lessons, inspired me to tears and extracted an even better human being out of me, slowly. I think I was born with a really big heart, full of compassion and gratitude, but I’m also plagued with an overactive mind, that at times seeks to supersede my slowly evolving heart. When I’m with those of you who’re impacting me positively, whether it be family, close friends, Yoga students, fellow teachers, or those I’ve yet to know personally but the effect of your influence has stuck, I feel enlightened, uplifted, full, warm, and almost explosive with what I feel is a collective potential. I just want to hug everyone, it’s almost nauseating my level of happiness.

Then, at times, in my off hours, alone, under the gray wintery skies, out of communication, when it’s just me, the voice in my head is louder than the beat of my heart. I have to remind myself to breathe deeply, to feel and hear the sound of life moving in and out and to quell the cynical, lonely voice seemingly screaming I am not enough. I’d say 90% of the time, I feel content, joyful, appreciative and full of love. It’s that pesky 10% that closes the door of my heart, brings out the inner and outer judgement, and makes me feel stuck. I scramble to interact with others, via text, via social media, via coffee shops, public transportation, via life. Perhaps I have difficulty being alone and allowing the love I feel the majority of the time to be reflected inwardly as well as out. The irony is how independent and self-sufficient I encourage myself and others to be. The truth is I need you. I need others. And just admitting that feels sad, but I’m learning to surrender and accept that and to do my best to give to you what you’ve given to me. And that symbiotic exchange and knowing will pull us out of the self-doubt, the loneliness, the confusion, the darkness, and bring us gently back into the light, the warmth, the support and the love.

Below is just a reflection of those moments where I felt my heart closing up again, the skepticism creeping back into my thoughts and the voice in my head sliding toward the negative. So often I experience such profoundly positive highs from the interaction with others that when I return to normalcy, I sometimes feel low. My objective during these moments is to bring awareness, feel it fully and handle it honestly. All I want for others is to feel the love I’ve felt and to feel that most of the time, and when they don’t, to remind themselves they will again. I’m so grateful, even when sad, and I hope the truth of who I’m unraveling to be is someone who has affected you in a positive way, whether it be subtle or more profound, through my writing, teaching, friendship or casual encounter. I wish you Love.

Buoyant Heart

Sardonic, demonic
Charred and scarred
Black, bleak
Enigmatic, mystique
Enlivened by promise
Distempered by lies
Heavy and wounded
Achey and guarded
Prayers for amnesia
Begging for mercy
Laborious, treacherous
Searching for light, hope
Desperate to float
Reparation required
Overwhelmed by the task
Progress out of necessity
Please find the opening
Relax, receive
Uplift yourself
Surrender the pride
Love is worth the risk
Go for the ride
Do not drown
You cannot sink
Stay above
No guard, no glove
Exhale, release
Have the courage to start
Carry within, a buoyant heart

I want what's inside me to reflect the beauty, stillness and strength of this, and to provide the world a similar positive contribution as simple and profound as a tree.

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