Thursday, November 18, 2010

The Call to Adventure; Refusal of the Call; Crossing the Threshold.

I miss that MySpace blog function that let you post "What I'm listening to now" after every blog entry.  I'm sure there's a way to do it on blogger (or at the very least, on tumblr), but I'm too out of practice to understand widgets and such.

(What I'm listening to right now:  "Another One Rides the Bus" by "Weird Al" Yankovic.)

If I can talk about the Beatles again (if I could ever stop talking about the Beatles...), I was out in public the other night (!) and the Beatles came up.  We were talking about favorites, which ones we were, which ones were the cool ones, and someone mentioned Ringo.  And I blurted out, "Ringo was a drunk" and wanted to take it back right away.  I don't even know what possessed me.  I hate being that buzzkill -- "it was all done with mirrors" -- and the only rationalization I've been able to come up with in the days since is that I have to remind myself from time to time that the Beatles, in addition to being Beatles, were also dudes.  Not just cartoon characters.  If you play the Beatles Rock Band video game, there's something of a narrative to it, and it ends (I think) with the band playing their rooftop concert.  As if it all just stopped for no particular reason, all smiles and fur coats and friendly bobbies telling the boys turn down their amps.  As if none of them ever did anything of consequence ever again.  And it's just not true.  They led complicated lives (just like real people!) and they wrote other songs and played in other bands.  They made records, got divorced, some of them died.  That's worth remembering too.  Perhaps more elegantly, in the future, than yelling "Ringo was a drunk."  He was also a caveman.  He was also Mr. Conductor.

(Being a Beatle, and then not being a Beatle, has got to be a hard kind of come down.)

(Paul by himself, getting drunk and getting high [getting crunk!], because he doesn't have any friends left.  Once he was writing letters to Prince ("Dear Princely Person.  Hi there!").

Russell Brand is one of the things people like that I resist for no particular reason (except to be contrary, I suppose), but maybe he's one of the things that I eventually give in to too.  He was on Conan last night was utterly charming talking about royalty.  Other things in this category:  Mad Men, Dancing with the Stars, Lady GaGa (though that seems like so long ago...).

I had a vision for a Christmas Party.  Many years ago, when I was in school, the wonderful Michelle Richmond had a White Elephant party for one of her workshops.  I remember not being in her workshop that semester, but I also remember being at the party, and instead of the standard white elephanting, it went down like this:

- You bring a gift.  It goes on a table.  Maybe you draw numbers?  Or maybe you just volunteer, and one at a time, you claim a gift.  I prefer them not to be wrapped, but maybe that makes it more of a "game" and less a "Christmas Party."

- If no one else wants your present, you get to keep it.  Boring!

- If someone else wants your present, they have the chance to steal it from you.  But when they steal it, they have to tell a story.  Then you tell a story.  And then everyone votes on who has the best story, and whoever has the best story gets to keep the present.

- Fun is had, stuff is had, stories are told.  Christmas!

(What I am listening to now:  "We Fight/Love" by Q-Tip.)

Today K picked up all the leaves and bagged them.  Later the neighbor came over and told her that her kids had been planning to collect them today so they could have a bonfire.  I'm not a fire professional, but that seems like a wonderfully bad idea.  She told K "I guess I'll have to tell them we can't do it this year..." 

There is also neighborhood stray cat dramarama between our neighbors on one side and our neighbors on the other.  Bloodfeuds have broken out for less than a stolen cat. 

I'm glad we haven't done anything to earn the ire of our neighbors, but then I also get the feeling that we wouldn't necessarily hear about if if we did.  But now both neighbors have told us not to trust the ones on the other side.  So far I have nodded sympathetically to both sides, but with any luck things will escalate and this will turn out like A Fistful of Dollars.

(What I am listening to now:  "Woody Woodpecker" by Dan Deacon.  From an album called Spiderman of the Rings, which is currently my favorite name of a thing.)

My back is appropriately stretched.  It is time for hunting and gathering.

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