Amoeblog

(In which Job returns from [kind of a] vacation.)

Posted by Job O Brother, September 4, 2007 11:31am | Post a Comment

Honey! I’m home…!

[Kiss.]

Whew! It is crazy hot here in Hollywood. How have you survived? I’m this close to envying the Donner Party.

[Sets luggage down.]

Where have I been? Didn’t you see the Post-It note I left on our autographed portrait of Gunnar de Frumerie?

No?

What do you mean you were struck blind by the Lord Our God while traveling the Road to Damascus? Are you crazy?

Yes, I know Labor Day traffic on I-5 is maddening, but I hardly think a detour through Syria was good idea. And anyhow, I wrote the note in Braille, so that’s no excuse for not reading it.

[Takes off shoes and unbuttons shirt.]

Anyway, I don’t want to fight.

I’ve been in Santa Barbara over the weekend. I was at a wedding for some of Corey’s friends. It was hot there, too, but at least we were on the coast, so it was beautiful.

Oh, a funny thing happened that continues a strange theme in my recent blogs. One of the humans attending the wedding was Octavia Spencer – a total sparkplug, very quick with the one-liners – and, as she was introduced to my small group, she lowered her sunglasses at me and said:

“Whoa! You have some pretty eyes! Hoo!”

Which makes two times this week that an obscure female comedian has commented on my optical globes. I know, right? What exactly are my pheromones excreting? Too funny.

Whiskers on roses & raindrops on kittens: II. Adagio

Posted by Job O Brother, August 6, 2007 01:16pm | Post a Comment

2.) “The Ugly One With the Jewels”

The above is a title to an album by Laurie Anderson. It was released in 1995.

Anyone who knows me knows how much I revere this artist. Many of you are at least aware of her “hit”, the eerie and off-putting “O Superman (For Massenet)”, which unexpectedly made #2 on the UK Charts in 1981, thanks largely to its championing by the late, great John Peel.


Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha: Laurie Anderson

While most of her albums will inevitably split a room of people in two camps, with either side feeling passionate of how her songs make them feel, “The Ugly One With the Jewels” is one of her most accessible and entertaining albums, and many people who would not otherwise appreciate her more “difficult music” will still enjoy this album.

It is not my favorite – for me, nothing trumps her epic work “United States” (which is available as a live performance album consisting of four compact discs). Still, “Ugly One” is magical to me; it’s like walking through a dream, awake.

The album consists almost entirely of spoken word; stories that are autobiographical. It was recorded live in London for what sounds like a perfect audience.

Anderson’s life is one worth hearing about. Few people have a taste for adventure like her, and her droll, dry style of story-telling on this record shows-off her comedic skill, something she values in herself that others rarely remark on, mostly due, I’m sure, to her being of the avant-garde.

Apocalypse Now: The I-POD

Posted by Miss Ess, July 26, 2007 07:28pm | Post a Comment
i-pod apple

It was my birthday this weekend and I got one of these new-fangled devices: The I POD.  I know I am super late on this, but hey I grew up in a household that only got rid of its wood-paneled answering machine within the last 5 years, so I have always been more than a little slow on these things, ask anyone.  Despite the existence of this blog, I am not a huge fan of technology. 

So, the I Pod. 

I drive a car that's from 1993.  It has its original stereo, a tape deck.  At the suggestion ofhonda civic other more technologically inclined folks in my life, I've tried getting CDs to play in there with the whole tape-to-CD Walkman contraption, to no avail.  I resigned myself to listening to tapes and the radio, and had given up hope on anything else.  When it was suggested to me to try an I Pod, I scoffed in said suggestor's face.  I didn't even want to give it a go.  But I was eventually convinced and to my amazement, the suggestor's  I Pod WORKED....I realized I could listen to ANYTHING I WANTED IN MY CAR!  But I STILL didn't want to cave and get an I Pod.  Technology, you see.  It scares me.  Like I said, I just am not a fan.  Too complicated.

record player vinylAlso, I am kind of old skool in general.  I like to play records.  I consider records a superior way to "take" my  music.  It sounds the best.  I know that sounds maybe snobby, but I truly believe it.  I like to see artwork.  I like to see liner notes.  I like to feel and smell and see all of it together....I guess what I am saying is that at its best music is a sensual experience for me.  The idea of this little computer holding all of that seems kind of cold and most definitely uninviting.

Continue reading...

(In which the group's adventures come to a close.)

Posted by Job O Brother, June 11, 2007 09:14am | Post a Comment
Everyone awoke a little gloomy. It was our last day, and check-out time was only four hours away. Logan in-particular was not okay with this and sought out the front desk to plea our case. The result was a new check-out time of four o’clock, at no additional charge.

I’m not sure what Logan had to do to get this sweet deal; knowing her, they were probably just charmed, but that makes for a boring blog, so let’s pretend she seduced the owner’s wife, or at the very least threatened them with rad karate moves.


"Hit me with your best shot" - Logan in control

With only half a day left, the majority agreed that the best thing to do was give me a haircut.

Uh, wha...? Really? It’s that bad?

What I saw as my sexy, shaggy mop – so hip and suave was, unbeknownst to me, something akin to Eric Stoltz’ hot look in the movie “Mask”. Apparently I had been unwittingly turning Greek adventurers into stone with my mere hairdo. Who knew?


Bad hair daze: Eric Stoltz, Medusa, and me

Carrie was adamant. She was going to cut my hair. My boyfriend immediately switched to publicist mode, yelling demands and controlling events from his chaise lounge. “Short!” he kept shouting, “Short… short!”


BEFORE: Carrie assesses the situation


The Master Hair-stylist can adapt to any situation


Beauty and the Beast

My own opinions were merely tolerated as flights of fancy. I had been reduced to a pre-Suffragette woman with hopes of one day earning a living for herself, winning the right to vote, or at the very least, opening her own door without being seen as a dangerous lesbian.

(In which Job is sooo condescending.)

Posted by Job O Brother, May 18, 2007 12:50am | Post a Comment
Okay.

I’m looking around my room for gems of pop culture (or, as is more often in my case, unpopular culture) that I can gab about.

A good starting point is whatever’s playing on my iPod. Right now, that’s “La Transfiguration de Notre Seigneur Jésus-Christ”, a piece by the composer, Olivier Messiaen.

(*Chuckle*)

Um… That’s Olivier Messiaen.

Hee! You did it again! The way you’re pronouncing it in your brain is – you must forgive me – hilarious. It’s that cluster-f**k of vowels at the end.

Now, before you get all huffy and pronounce a few crueler things in your brain at me, you should know that I too once pronounced Olivier Messiaen the same way you… titter!… you just did.

But now I know better, and I’m going to pass this knowledge on to you. For free!

The first name is easy. It’s the Freedom version… I mean, the French version, of the name Oliver. Oh-LIVE-ee-ay. Like that one actor who won a lot of awards and inspired everyone with his performances and drank to numb the pain of his crushing depression and repressed homosexual desires.

No, silly – not Tom Cruise. Tom Cruise doesn’t inspire anyone. Pay attention!


Beloved actor and all-around doomed soul, Lawrence Olivier

The surname is the challenge, and requires making a couple sounds that don’t appear in the English language. I’ll break it down, syllable by syllable:

Messiaen: Mee-seh-YA-choo.

I know, I know. It doesn’t look like it’s pronounced that way, but it is French after all. We’re talking about a people who can’t be bothered to pronounce half their words most of the time.

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