Be near me! Be near!
What do you do when greatness zooms right past you? You stop and stare, awestruck by the moment. What am I talking about?
I was on the ice this morning with Sarah Hughes, the 2002 Olympic Gold medalist.
We are never glamorous at 7 am, and neither was she. This did not shock me, it made me smile. Her hair was up, no makeup, scraggly blue t-shirt, a patch of freckles and a bit of acne (oh, to be human!) But there she was, zooming by into double salchows to the right of me (she jumps clockwise.) I wanted to grab her hand as the session ended and tell her how my phone rang off the hook the night she won, how all of us from Long Island, Queens, and Brooklyn cheered and hollered in joy after years of knowing her skate sharpeners, costumers, and fellow coaches. I wanted to tell her how every one doubted me when I said "This kid's gonna win it all" when she was only 13 years old. But I didn’t. I let her skate. And I let myself feel something like joy.
Sarah’s sister, Emily, is at Mids this weekend, competing with her long-time coach Bonnie. Mids is short for Middle Atlantics Competition. It’s one of the oldest and biggest non-qualifying events on the east coast. Hundreds of skaters show up to give their competitive programs a test run early in the season. Choreography is tested, costumes are revealed for the first time, and the never-ending battle of nerves, placements, travel and time constraints begins. I will be volunteering this Saturday while the rest of this city mourns that horrible day. Do I have to say it? I won’t. You know, kiddies.
The last time I cried while watching a sporting event, it was the 1980 hockey team, and I didn’t like hockey yet. I don’t know where the tears came from back then, and I didn’t know during that night in Salt Lake City. It was pure emotion.
I enjoyed 27 minutes this morning of long edges, sweeping turns, and edge pulls. I did no spins, no jumps. I enjoyed myself, and the presence of two other people on the ice. A nice morning considering yesterday’s train snarl that left me with a sinus headache and backed-up sewers in my neighborhood.
The great “champion” memories always came from Rock Center, but SkyRink is starting to catch up. And that’s good. They’ll probably put me on flower “guard”, wrapping up all the daisies, carnations, and roses so no leaves/petals/thorns make their way onto the ice when I volunteer this weekend.
Well, like everything, it’s back to basics. Let’s see if I can get my stamina back up to Abe Stark levels. I used to do 2 ½ hours every Sunday in Coney Island with George Tom. I really need to get a book and write down what he taught me. I should have done that all along, but I wasn’t thinking. I thought I’d have him forever. Silly me.
Anyway, you heard it here first. Don’t be surprised to see Sarah back on the horizon. She just finished a stint as an Olympic announcer at Athens, and she’s going into her sophomore year at Harvard. But, as I can attest, skating pulls you back in. It never leaves you. It’s a struggle to stay in, but it’s torturous when you walk away for whatever reason.
Who knows if 2006 is sitting in the back of her mind? Her former coach is working with Sasha Cohen now, but Adam Leib is no slouch. He got Aliza Allen to Nationals with a tenth place finish, and she was no where NEAR the jumps that Sarah has. I don’t want to say “had”, since Sarah's only 19. All she needs is solid combo jump, a double axel, and some work on that underrotated lutz. The layback and the spirals are divine.
It’ll happen. I know it. Just a little hard work, and a touch of inspiration.
Thursday, September 9, 2004
Sunday, September 5, 2004
It's no big sin to stick your two cents in...
If you know when to leave it alone/but you went over the line/you couldn't see it was time to go home...
Just when I try to make it out the door in search of massive doses of advil, Q-104 decides it's a album-side Sunday. That's when they play one side of a record straight through, no commercials. Right now, they're playing 52nd Street, my favorite Billy Joel record. So, my head is going to throb a bit more.
Andrew and Ann had something a bug, I hope I didn't get it. Why can't I get sick at the beginning and not the end of a weekend? Uck. I forget if Rosalinda's Eyes is on this side. That's one of my favorites. I had that on an old tape from 1981 left behind at a barbecue. I found it, kept it, and still have it.
This is the kind of headache I had when I had the flu back in February, but I don't have the coughing, fever, or sneezing that I did that day. Who knows? Maybe this is as bad as it's gonna get. And Billy Clinton's heart is totally blocked. 58 and quadruple bypass? Yikes. That's the same thing I've got a risk for. Blocked arteries killed my grandfather and my father. No bacon and eggs for me for a while. Maybe bacon air freshener or a bacon patch would help curve these cravings?
I've got the old man's car
I got a jazz guitar
I got a tab at Zanzibar
Tonight that's where I'll be
She's gonna pull the curtains for me...
Well, it's the end of Side One. Off to find my advil...
where I'll be
Just when I try to make it out the door in search of massive doses of advil, Q-104 decides it's a album-side Sunday. That's when they play one side of a record straight through, no commercials. Right now, they're playing 52nd Street, my favorite Billy Joel record. So, my head is going to throb a bit more.
Andrew and Ann had something a bug, I hope I didn't get it. Why can't I get sick at the beginning and not the end of a weekend? Uck. I forget if Rosalinda's Eyes is on this side. That's one of my favorites. I had that on an old tape from 1981 left behind at a barbecue. I found it, kept it, and still have it.
This is the kind of headache I had when I had the flu back in February, but I don't have the coughing, fever, or sneezing that I did that day. Who knows? Maybe this is as bad as it's gonna get. And Billy Clinton's heart is totally blocked. 58 and quadruple bypass? Yikes. That's the same thing I've got a risk for. Blocked arteries killed my grandfather and my father. No bacon and eggs for me for a while. Maybe bacon air freshener or a bacon patch would help curve these cravings?
I've got the old man's car
I got a jazz guitar
I got a tab at Zanzibar
Tonight that's where I'll be
She's gonna pull the curtains for me...
Well, it's the end of Side One. Off to find my advil...
where I'll be
Saturday, September 4, 2004
I get it now
And so she woke up
Woke up from where she was
Lying still
Said I gotta do something
About where we're going
Step on a steam train
Step out of the driving rain, maybe
Run from the darkness in the night
Singing ha, ah la la la de day
Ah da da da de day
Ah la la de day
Sweet the sin
Bitter taste in my mouth
I see seven towers
But I only see one way out
You got to cry without weeping
Talk without speaking
Scream without raising your voice
You know I took the poison
From the poison stream
Then I floated out of here
Singing...ha la la la de day
Ha la la la de day
Ha la la de day
She runs through the streets
With her eyes painted red
Under black belly of cloud in the rain
In through a doorway she brings me
White gold and pearls stolen from the sea
She is raging
She is raging
And the storm blows up in her eyes
She will...
Suffer the needle chill
She's running to stand...
Still.
© Words by Bono Running to Stand Still 1987
Additional rhythm guitar Daniel Lanois
It's good to listen to old unlabeled tapes. I found this today. Dawn & I went nuts over this song in May 1987. She was in love with Rob, I was in love with Scott. The world was in love with Bono. This song is about drugs, but at the time I took for something else.
"Scream without raising your voice." Dawn never learned how to do that.
I'm still learning, I think.
Woke up from where she was
Lying still
Said I gotta do something
About where we're going
Step on a steam train
Step out of the driving rain, maybe
Run from the darkness in the night
Singing ha, ah la la la de day
Ah da da da de day
Ah la la de day
Sweet the sin
Bitter taste in my mouth
I see seven towers
But I only see one way out
You got to cry without weeping
Talk without speaking
Scream without raising your voice
You know I took the poison
From the poison stream
Then I floated out of here
Singing...ha la la la de day
Ha la la la de day
Ha la la de day
She runs through the streets
With her eyes painted red
Under black belly of cloud in the rain
In through a doorway she brings me
White gold and pearls stolen from the sea
She is raging
She is raging
And the storm blows up in her eyes
She will...
Suffer the needle chill
She's running to stand...
Still.
© Words by Bono Running to Stand Still 1987
Additional rhythm guitar Daniel Lanois
It's good to listen to old unlabeled tapes. I found this today. Dawn & I went nuts over this song in May 1987. She was in love with Rob, I was in love with Scott. The world was in love with Bono. This song is about drugs, but at the time I took for something else.
"Scream without raising your voice." Dawn never learned how to do that.
I'm still learning, I think.
Friday, September 3, 2004
My aim is true
I'll quote Elvis Costello, since Presley never did a damn thing for me. My city, having been overrun with various zealots and right-wingers, is now clear and free to assess the damage left by the RNC. The spin, the ugliness, the demon lurking behind the mask.
"For all those whose cares have been our concern, the work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die."
Ted Kennedy said that in August 1980 talking about the core values that made up the Democratic party. I recently saw the full broadcast on a CNN talk show. I was only 8 when this speech was made, and we (Mom, Dad, cats, and I) generally ignored political television. Dad watched the debates, Mom read the papers, and I was made fun of mercilessly for having Ted's same famous last name. Well, I have never been so riveted by a broadcast from almost 25 years ago.
This section of his speech is oft-quoted, and I know and understand how much the shadow of JFK looms over the heads of Democratic candidates. Kerry has even been accused of sounding like one of them. I write this with great fear, because I feel he cannot win.
This past week showed me the invasive power of 'image' and 'spin' and I must say, Bush's speech was certainly strong. No verbal gaffes as usual, but I turned off the tv at 11:16 pm last night when he mentioned 9/11 one last time. The third anniversary is on its way, and my life as a New Yorker has changed drastically. Some people have returned to my life to brighten it (thank you, Andrew and Ann), and some are no longer here (Wick, Dan, Lou.) I am steadfast in my belief that what these pundits stand for is not the face of the Republican party. I am also doubtful that Kerry can really save us, but I know Nader is a joke.
He is like a pair of expensive shoes: you see them, they fit, you buy them. Somehow, they never make it out of the box often enough to wear regularly unless you've got nothing else. So, they are worn only 5 or 6 times before you forget about them permanently.
I am afraid. For the future of my life in this town, and that no one will uphold my beliefs and protect the joys that I cling fast to, as I sit, struggling mightily to tread water in the city I love while swimming with sharks. My teeth and claws have been worn down by the current, and I would like to rest.
But I can't.
An interesting interview last night with Rickie Lee Jones, one of my favorite songwriters, caught my attention with one phrase: "The strength of our democracy is only as strong as its voices of protest." Ken Paulson did the interview on a public access channel, and I am happy to say he let her speak. There was a minimum of 6 questions, and only 2 anecdotes on his part, and she did not fail to entertain. A recent NY Post article asked Jones pointed questions about Iraq, Bush, and the state of the country. What was not revealed was that her life was threatened. Yes, I am saying this woman with the little girl voice from out in space playing a guitar received death threats in the mail and on her answering machine. Can we really expect any less from Rupert Murdoch and his clan? Of course not. That's why my father hated working for him so much.
Jones's daughter was the one who lived with the fear of losing her mother, and this girl is only 16. Kudos to Paulson for letting her talk at length, from everything about Joni Mitchell, Laura Nyro, Van Morrison, her new website, "Chuck E.'s in Love", and the state of the country in which we live. She was not frightened by such threats.
"I'm willing to put it out there and live with it," she answered. When did conscience become a brave act and a threat at the same time? Am I missing something?
It was soothing to hear her speak. How many times have I played The Magazine solely to tune out and relax? I've even quoted her lyrics here on this blog. This woman's a threat? Why on God's green earth is this administration shoveling democracy (or something masquerading like it) into other countries while chipping away at its very foundation here?
Using Madison Square Garden as a backdrop to, let's face it, POLITICIZE 9/11 is an act of defiance and insult to those of us who were there. I vividly remember sitting across the street from Lincoln Center watching people run in all directions. I don't even remember how I got up there from Rockefeller Center, but we had to evacuate, and my day was changed totally. I was literally trapped in Manhattan for 5 hours until 2 buses and 3 trains kept chugging along to get me home.
And for those of you who are sick of my politics, fuck you. I did everything I was supposed to, went to school, worked part-time (when someone would hire me), got two college degrees. My taxes are now shouldering the burden of someone's yacht payment and ski trip. Someone who'll never know what it's like to be cold, scared, hungry and poor. Guess what? Neither one of my parents saw more than $50,000 in their working lives without a second job or severe overtime. And now that's been taken away, too. They sent me to private schools because they had no faith in the public school system. And NEITHER DO I. They were smart.
In the midst of mobster's daughters, fur coats, maids and trust fund nose-jobbed brats, I had a ball sneering at them. Why? Because I worked HARD and they didn't even know--weren't raised to know--what that meant. I knew with perserverance, I could have those same things. Now? I have doubts. I am simply a cog in the wheel. The world is a much different place.
For those of you sitting around, complacent and ignorant I ask you: is it a choice or could you do more? Will you do more? Or have you simply given up? The struggle ain't worth much these days, but I'll be damned if I stop now. The burden is greater, the threat darker, the truth hidden. Where are my dreams? Out of reach and out of sight, Teddy. I can't afford them. Couldn't when I was a child, can't now, either.
And please, no backbiting, no backstabbing, no colorful commentary. I don't wanna hear it. You want to blog and leave bullshit messages in my emails and answering machine? "DELETE" is my magic word. Stand for something or you'll fall for anything. Get off your asses and make a choice.
"Well, I'm not gonna vote because it won't make a difference."
A friend of Andrew's said that to me last week. With that attitude, you might just pack it all in right now. Fear and anger are powerful motivators. Apathy? Complacency? Don't come to me for sympathy, you've got no idea how loud I'll shriek at you.
I have seen you walking in the rain/and I wanted to know why you were crying/I wanna fix what's wrong...
Can we, Rickie? I hope so. I really hope so.
"For all those whose cares have been our concern, the work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die."
Ted Kennedy said that in August 1980 talking about the core values that made up the Democratic party. I recently saw the full broadcast on a CNN talk show. I was only 8 when this speech was made, and we (Mom, Dad, cats, and I) generally ignored political television. Dad watched the debates, Mom read the papers, and I was made fun of mercilessly for having Ted's same famous last name. Well, I have never been so riveted by a broadcast from almost 25 years ago.
This section of his speech is oft-quoted, and I know and understand how much the shadow of JFK looms over the heads of Democratic candidates. Kerry has even been accused of sounding like one of them. I write this with great fear, because I feel he cannot win.
This past week showed me the invasive power of 'image' and 'spin' and I must say, Bush's speech was certainly strong. No verbal gaffes as usual, but I turned off the tv at 11:16 pm last night when he mentioned 9/11 one last time. The third anniversary is on its way, and my life as a New Yorker has changed drastically. Some people have returned to my life to brighten it (thank you, Andrew and Ann), and some are no longer here (Wick, Dan, Lou.) I am steadfast in my belief that what these pundits stand for is not the face of the Republican party. I am also doubtful that Kerry can really save us, but I know Nader is a joke.
He is like a pair of expensive shoes: you see them, they fit, you buy them. Somehow, they never make it out of the box often enough to wear regularly unless you've got nothing else. So, they are worn only 5 or 6 times before you forget about them permanently.
I am afraid. For the future of my life in this town, and that no one will uphold my beliefs and protect the joys that I cling fast to, as I sit, struggling mightily to tread water in the city I love while swimming with sharks. My teeth and claws have been worn down by the current, and I would like to rest.
But I can't.
An interesting interview last night with Rickie Lee Jones, one of my favorite songwriters, caught my attention with one phrase: "The strength of our democracy is only as strong as its voices of protest." Ken Paulson did the interview on a public access channel, and I am happy to say he let her speak. There was a minimum of 6 questions, and only 2 anecdotes on his part, and she did not fail to entertain. A recent NY Post article asked Jones pointed questions about Iraq, Bush, and the state of the country. What was not revealed was that her life was threatened. Yes, I am saying this woman with the little girl voice from out in space playing a guitar received death threats in the mail and on her answering machine. Can we really expect any less from Rupert Murdoch and his clan? Of course not. That's why my father hated working for him so much.
Jones's daughter was the one who lived with the fear of losing her mother, and this girl is only 16. Kudos to Paulson for letting her talk at length, from everything about Joni Mitchell, Laura Nyro, Van Morrison, her new website, "Chuck E.'s in Love", and the state of the country in which we live. She was not frightened by such threats.
"I'm willing to put it out there and live with it," she answered. When did conscience become a brave act and a threat at the same time? Am I missing something?
It was soothing to hear her speak. How many times have I played The Magazine solely to tune out and relax? I've even quoted her lyrics here on this blog. This woman's a threat? Why on God's green earth is this administration shoveling democracy (or something masquerading like it) into other countries while chipping away at its very foundation here?
Using Madison Square Garden as a backdrop to, let's face it, POLITICIZE 9/11 is an act of defiance and insult to those of us who were there. I vividly remember sitting across the street from Lincoln Center watching people run in all directions. I don't even remember how I got up there from Rockefeller Center, but we had to evacuate, and my day was changed totally. I was literally trapped in Manhattan for 5 hours until 2 buses and 3 trains kept chugging along to get me home.
And for those of you who are sick of my politics, fuck you. I did everything I was supposed to, went to school, worked part-time (when someone would hire me), got two college degrees. My taxes are now shouldering the burden of someone's yacht payment and ski trip. Someone who'll never know what it's like to be cold, scared, hungry and poor. Guess what? Neither one of my parents saw more than $50,000 in their working lives without a second job or severe overtime. And now that's been taken away, too. They sent me to private schools because they had no faith in the public school system. And NEITHER DO I. They were smart.
In the midst of mobster's daughters, fur coats, maids and trust fund nose-jobbed brats, I had a ball sneering at them. Why? Because I worked HARD and they didn't even know--weren't raised to know--what that meant. I knew with perserverance, I could have those same things. Now? I have doubts. I am simply a cog in the wheel. The world is a much different place.
For those of you sitting around, complacent and ignorant I ask you: is it a choice or could you do more? Will you do more? Or have you simply given up? The struggle ain't worth much these days, but I'll be damned if I stop now. The burden is greater, the threat darker, the truth hidden. Where are my dreams? Out of reach and out of sight, Teddy. I can't afford them. Couldn't when I was a child, can't now, either.
And please, no backbiting, no backstabbing, no colorful commentary. I don't wanna hear it. You want to blog and leave bullshit messages in my emails and answering machine? "DELETE" is my magic word. Stand for something or you'll fall for anything. Get off your asses and make a choice.
"Well, I'm not gonna vote because it won't make a difference."
A friend of Andrew's said that to me last week. With that attitude, you might just pack it all in right now. Fear and anger are powerful motivators. Apathy? Complacency? Don't come to me for sympathy, you've got no idea how loud I'll shriek at you.
I have seen you walking in the rain/and I wanted to know why you were crying/I wanna fix what's wrong...
Can we, Rickie? I hope so. I really hope so.
Wednesday, September 1, 2004
Thatz just WRONG
hello
this is dexter agin.
I learned how to cut and paist after praktising with my tayl. It's like shift, but moor fun! Heer's a stupit letter from a two legger. It' really got my fur in knots!
I believe in having compassion for all sentient beings; therefore, I do not eat meat. If I feed my cat meat-based pet food, I am supporting the slaughter of other animals. Assuming it will not impair his health, is it ethical for me to feed my cat vegetarian food, depriving him of what he would naturally eat and giving him no choice in the matter? -- Annalisa Lazzaro, New York
Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly, and you gotta provide your cat with a healthy diet, even if that means letting a carnivore be a carnivore. If this can be done with vegetarian cat food, go to it; a vet can advise you of your feline nutrition options. The cat doesn't have a say (except by refusing to eat the Soy Chow) any more than it does about, for example, being vaccinated. As to what it would do naturally if released into the wild, what your cat would do is lead a short and unpleasant life. This is not to exempt the cat's behavior from moral consideration. You should, of course, prevent it from, say, loitering around a bird feeder and from using nuclear weapons.
soy chow? purrrlease! what an insult. When my two legger braught me home, I knoo sometheen was diffrent because she gave me toona and stayke and I liked it. My preeveous peeple tried to feed me soy and vegetarean meals, too. I was OUTRAGED! (my tail is working out today, hss hss hsss) I don't know what nuclear means, but I don't need a berd feeder...bird feeder--oops I spelled it wrong--because there is that cold box in the window and the birds sit on that.
Morality is for two leggers, meet is for four. It's bad enough I watch Animal Planet and will never be able to jump and run like a leopard or a tiger. I was given honnerary membership into the Panther Society (we do socialize you know), but that's only because I do sit-ups and Pawlates hsss hsss just kiddeen! But soy? You gotta be kiddeen me. Bring on the meet! It's the only way.
Thank you for letteen me poynt out the sillyness of the world.
love
dexter
this is dexter agin.
I learned how to cut and paist after praktising with my tayl. It's like shift, but moor fun! Heer's a stupit letter from a two legger. It' really got my fur in knots!
I believe in having compassion for all sentient beings; therefore, I do not eat meat. If I feed my cat meat-based pet food, I am supporting the slaughter of other animals. Assuming it will not impair his health, is it ethical for me to feed my cat vegetarian food, depriving him of what he would naturally eat and giving him no choice in the matter? -- Annalisa Lazzaro, New York
Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly, and you gotta provide your cat with a healthy diet, even if that means letting a carnivore be a carnivore. If this can be done with vegetarian cat food, go to it; a vet can advise you of your feline nutrition options. The cat doesn't have a say (except by refusing to eat the Soy Chow) any more than it does about, for example, being vaccinated. As to what it would do naturally if released into the wild, what your cat would do is lead a short and unpleasant life. This is not to exempt the cat's behavior from moral consideration. You should, of course, prevent it from, say, loitering around a bird feeder and from using nuclear weapons.
soy chow? purrrlease! what an insult. When my two legger braught me home, I knoo sometheen was diffrent because she gave me toona and stayke and I liked it. My preeveous peeple tried to feed me soy and vegetarean meals, too. I was OUTRAGED! (my tail is working out today, hss hss hsss) I don't know what nuclear means, but I don't need a berd feeder...bird feeder--oops I spelled it wrong--because there is that cold box in the window and the birds sit on that.
Morality is for two leggers, meet is for four. It's bad enough I watch Animal Planet and will never be able to jump and run like a leopard or a tiger. I was given honnerary membership into the Panther Society (we do socialize you know), but that's only because I do sit-ups and Pawlates hsss hsss just kiddeen! But soy? You gotta be kiddeen me. Bring on the meet! It's the only way.
Thank you for letteen me poynt out the sillyness of the world.
love
dexter
Sunday, August 29, 2004
Well, the 80's really are OVER
Michael Bolton is still alive and well, but Laura Branigan--one of the great pop voices of the 80's--is no longer with us. He gets to sing "How Am I Supposed to Live Without You", but she doesn't. This is grossly unfair. RD agrees, that's how much we hate him.
Just the other day I walked by what used to be an old luncheonette (there's a word you don't hear anymore) where I used to play Ms. Pac Man. For some reason, the Flashdance soundtrack popped into my head. Strangely enough, it was Branigan's "Imagination" that was my favorite stage sequence. You know it, too--the segment with the flashing tv in the little club. And what was played during the skating sequence? "Gloria", of course. That skater was Amy Kravette, a former Canadian competitor.
1983 was me getting used to not being in Bensonhurst anymore. It was a totally new world, and quite an adjustment from living in a house to an apartment. I didn't like it, and I found myself slipping into escapes such as music and dance. That was a great time to be a kid radio-wise, and I remember vividly how Flashdance changed the face of Hollywood soundtracks. They marketed that album, and most of the artists--including Branigan--as bonafide stars, not up and comers. This was THE stuff you HAD TO be listening to. They crammed the airwaves, the singles flew off the shelves, and after a week, you knew every word. Every jazz class I took had us standing there taking the needle off that record. Finally, someone brought in a cassette so it wouldn't skip while we jumped around. The beginning of the "concept" movie. Irene & Laura--two voices you couldn't forget if you tried.
Shame what the record companies have come out with lately. Teen pop crap or violent hip hop. I like old school rap, kiddies. Gimme some Whodini or Run DMC and I'm fine. None of these kids would even know who Laura Branigan is, sadly. I'm listening to the radio right now, and they still haven't played one of her songs yet. They probably won't, either. The idiots at ClearChannel probably have guns to DJ's heads. This is a sorry state we're in, and it's one of the reasons why people don't listen to the radio anymore.
But Michael Bolton is still alive to poison us with his scratchy warbling. Someone PLEASE PLEASE explain that to me.
Miss you, Laura.
Just the other day I walked by what used to be an old luncheonette (there's a word you don't hear anymore) where I used to play Ms. Pac Man. For some reason, the Flashdance soundtrack popped into my head. Strangely enough, it was Branigan's "Imagination" that was my favorite stage sequence. You know it, too--the segment with the flashing tv in the little club. And what was played during the skating sequence? "Gloria", of course. That skater was Amy Kravette, a former Canadian competitor.
1983 was me getting used to not being in Bensonhurst anymore. It was a totally new world, and quite an adjustment from living in a house to an apartment. I didn't like it, and I found myself slipping into escapes such as music and dance. That was a great time to be a kid radio-wise, and I remember vividly how Flashdance changed the face of Hollywood soundtracks. They marketed that album, and most of the artists--including Branigan--as bonafide stars, not up and comers. This was THE stuff you HAD TO be listening to. They crammed the airwaves, the singles flew off the shelves, and after a week, you knew every word. Every jazz class I took had us standing there taking the needle off that record. Finally, someone brought in a cassette so it wouldn't skip while we jumped around. The beginning of the "concept" movie. Irene & Laura--two voices you couldn't forget if you tried.
Shame what the record companies have come out with lately. Teen pop crap or violent hip hop. I like old school rap, kiddies. Gimme some Whodini or Run DMC and I'm fine. None of these kids would even know who Laura Branigan is, sadly. I'm listening to the radio right now, and they still haven't played one of her songs yet. They probably won't, either. The idiots at ClearChannel probably have guns to DJ's heads. This is a sorry state we're in, and it's one of the reasons why people don't listen to the radio anymore.
But Michael Bolton is still alive to poison us with his scratchy warbling. Someone PLEASE PLEASE explain that to me.
Miss you, Laura.
Saturday, August 28, 2004
rhythmik gymnasts are reely cats
hello this is dexter.
i was watcheen the Olympiks with my two-legger, and this thing called rhythmik gymnastiks came on. i jumped at the screen, i couldnot help it.
my theeory is these girls are two-legger cats. they are just hideen it.
why you say --oh i wish i could use that shift key--i will tell yoo why.
1- they run aroond and chase a hoop, a ball, theese things called 'clubs', and my favoritt--the ribben! wow i just shifted with my tayl. i think i will do that aggain.
2- they twerl, roll, and generully go nuts--like on catnip nutz--for objekts that have notheen to do with reel life. for pointz, too, so they can win metal things with anuther ribben attached. i like things with ribben attached.
3-ive noticed they are bubbley and cute and stretch very far. i am jellus knoween that i am not the only one that can stick my leg over my hed. i cant do a back walkoveer eyther, and that annoyz me.
4- i dont think they keer how sillee they look. like us, it's all about chaysing the objekt and then lyeen flat on the floor while lookeen eggsotic and pretty.
5-when they gett a lowe skore, they sit and sulk. its very emportant that propper attenshun is given to cat-like creetures at all times or wee are insulted. no one is more beootifull than a cat, so big up to us! hsss hssss hssss i kill me, i sware.
well, kitties (my two legger uses that phrase), i haff to go. there is a berd across the way and i am distracted.
thank you for letteen me voyce my opinion.
meow for now,
dexter
i was watcheen the Olympiks with my two-legger, and this thing called rhythmik gymnastiks came on. i jumped at the screen, i couldnot help it.
my theeory is these girls are two-legger cats. they are just hideen it.
why you say --oh i wish i could use that shift key--i will tell yoo why.
1- they run aroond and chase a hoop, a ball, theese things called 'clubs', and my favoritt--the ribben! wow i just shifted with my tayl. i think i will do that aggain.
2- they twerl, roll, and generully go nuts--like on catnip nutz--for objekts that have notheen to do with reel life. for pointz, too, so they can win metal things with anuther ribben attached. i like things with ribben attached.
3-ive noticed they are bubbley and cute and stretch very far. i am jellus knoween that i am not the only one that can stick my leg over my hed. i cant do a back walkoveer eyther, and that annoyz me.
4- i dont think they keer how sillee they look. like us, it's all about chaysing the objekt and then lyeen flat on the floor while lookeen eggsotic and pretty.
5-when they gett a lowe skore, they sit and sulk. its very emportant that propper attenshun is given to cat-like creetures at all times or wee are insulted. no one is more beootifull than a cat, so big up to us! hsss hssss hssss i kill me, i sware.
well, kitties (my two legger uses that phrase), i haff to go. there is a berd across the way and i am distracted.
thank you for letteen me voyce my opinion.
meow for now,
dexter
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