Saturday, July 21, 2001 :::
 
Narcissism abounds...but Ms. Elissa-ism (Kevin mentioned Elissaisms the other night, how certain people need them in their lives...I agree! Elissaisms everywhere!) seems to like this sort of sick self-promotion on the blog. :) Anyway, there's this thing called the Mirror Project that I saw linked to on another weblog recently, so I investigated and thought it was cool -- a collection of people taking pics of themselves in reflective surfaces. "Why self-portraiture? We feel that people behave differently and are less likely to put on a 'happy face' when confronted with themselves snapping a photograph. To this end, you're more likely to see the person as how they see themselves," they say. So I submitted two pics...one from Barcelona and one from high school.

::: posted by Alura Allumeuse at 2:29 PM

 
The Boot loves a question. I was in Italy for the election of April 1996 (lovingly documented by Italian filmmaker Nanni Moretti - best known in the U.S. for Caro Diario - in Aprile), during which Silvio Berlusconi was ineligible to run. Forza Italia, which is Berlusconi's political operation (a name that sounds better on the soccer field), ran a guy named Leonardo Dini who eventually wrested control of the right and became the nominee for their coalition, Polo Per Libertá. So, back then Berlusconi was neutralized by his legal problems, having just been ousted from office in 1994. I was speaking to my friend Jody the other day (she was there with me, but unlike me, elected to stay), and people have been saying that if he'd been eligible to run in 1996, he probably would have won. As it was, he threw his weight around quite a bit; used his TV stations, newspapers, appeared at rallies, etc. Fortunately, the right kind of fell apart - the most compelling figures were Gianfranco Fini, who's literally a fascist, and Umberto Bossi, who's clearly nuts, (there's a great scene in the aforementioned film where Bossi goes up the river into Venice with a flotilla of boats and declares the independence of the "New Nation of Padania" - the guy's a raving megalomonomaniac). In the ensuing confusion, Romano Prodi and the "Olive Tree" (a coalition consisting of the parties of the left) won by a slight majority. Then in '99, Prodi got ousted by the Communists (who make up a necessary part of the coalition), and replaced with Massimo D'Alema (the guy with the great mustache). D'Alema got ousted last year, which is why there was an election.

This time around there were several differences: 1.) Umberto Bossi's toned down a bit and is now playing ball with Forza Italia and lending his support to the coalition (this represents millions of votes in the North). 2.) Berlusconi (who's a scummy freak) was eligible to run. 3.) There's been a slight economic slump. 4.) The guy who was running for the left had the charisma of Mike Dukakis. It was clear that Berlusconi was going to run away with this one.

Cultural things:

Italy's a deeply divided country. The far, far North (the bit that swells out) is filled with conservative, Germanic mountain man/industrialists. The Industrial North (Milan, Modena, Bologna, Reggio Emilio, etc.) is Communist, Socialist and generally leftist. And then the agricultural South (especially outside of the cities: Naples, Bari, Brindisi, Taranto, etc.) is old, Catholic, and conservative. This was the area that the Christian Democrats who controlled Italy for so many years banked on - unfortunately after the Christian Democratic party got sullied with their Mafia problems they through their support to the right. Socialists that you meet in the South feel beset on all sides - they seem pretty colorful though. SO, basically, an election map of Italy pretty much looks like an election map of the U.S., showing deep regional division. And, like the US, the reasons for this are economic and cultural.

Also, Italians seem to really, really revere successful Italians and Silvio Berlusconi is one of the most successful Italians in the history of Italy. He's the richest man in Europe, owns most of the media, soccer teams, department stores, technology companies, and tons of other stuff. He ran on his success and his success is self-evident.

So, Kevin, I don't know if this answers your question - Italian politics are goddamn opaque! I have a hell of a time following them - the four factors I listed earlier, together with the all this cultural background, etc. made a Berlusconi victory inevitable. He has TONS of popular support; looking at the footage from Genova and wondering about Silvio is like looking at the footage from Seattle and wondering how the US could possibly have elected G.W. Bush.

Jody said that Bologna (called il Rosso because of its Communist politics) recently painted ALL of its trash cans red in response to the election.


::: posted by the boot at 8:11 AM

Friday, July 20, 2001 :::
 
Hey, boot, what was the average Italian person's opinion of Berlusconi when you were there? Did he have a lot of popular support, just not from the left? Seeing the G8 protest coverage made me again wonder how someone so seemingly corrupt could be elected Premier.

I've been reading a collection of Saul Landau's commentaries this week. Great subway fodder, as each is two pages long.

It's been interesting and kind of sad finding out what happened between Landau and my old classmate Aaron Glantz. Aaron was one of the reporters leading the protest again Pacifica, then Landau and a group staffers from The Nation went after Aaron and tried to stop the protest, then Norman Solomon defended the protesters. Painful to watch the left at war with itself.

::: posted by kevin seal at 3:38 PM

Thursday, July 19, 2001 :::
 
* The Littlest Lesbian of All got a tattoo of a blue yoni on her back the other night. Discovered that yoni book author Rufus Camphausen, who used to e-mail with me, now has Planet Yoni.
* Jonathan and I went to go see Erica's (in knit cap next to me) husband Joel's band Sandfly last night. Not the shoegazing/triphop I thought it would be (like their guitarist's solo stuff) (and, admittedly, he does stare at his shoes, being as he's obsessed with pedal-effects and has to watch his feet), but more reggaeish/Pink Floyd-y. Have oddly spent the past 2 nights staying up late talking to people in their cars and barely sleeping at all. Feel like ASS.
* this cute accountant raver boy that I work with was gonna go back to school this fall, but is now going to Europe indefinitely instead...why? Because his boyfriend just won $8 million in the lottery. Could my jealousy be any worse?
* anyone want a new blogger template?

::: posted by Alura Allumeuse at 10:15 AM

Wednesday, July 18, 2001 :::
 
* A glorious blog, Sergio. *wild applause* Was following the Zegnatronic links and can't believe you didn't include this. (Flash opening page, if you run your mouse over his hand, sign, or mouth, different sounds are activated, and can be looped all on top of each other any number of times...all leading into a new comic strip, starring him)
* Here's a link for anyone who needs help organizing their next theme party.
* This make anyone want to head to New Orleans? (plus: the dangers of performing for Live Nude Bands)
* feeling scattered today, je m'excuse pour un blog pauvre.

::: posted by Alura Allumeuse at 4:04 PM

 
Crass commercialism continues to extend its tentacles:
SF area residents all know or know of the Zegnatronic Rocket Society guy, Frank Chu. Even Jason Kottke has a Chu encounter story.

Today, he was pacing determinedly down Market St., again. Something's changed, though, and it's not his sunglasses.

Front of sign: "Impeach Washington. 12 Galaxies Guiltied of Megalological Neutron Warfare."

Back of sign: "Underwritten by Quizno's Subs, Home of the Best Sandwiches in San Francisco."

I'm really curious how much they paid him for the back of his placard.

p.s.: culture jamming involving that frickin' Elvis Schmiedekamp guy who's been stalking all of us from the billboards of the bay.

::: posted by kevin seal at 3:10 PM

 
(excuse the florid, or floridian, style of the following, but i, like many others, am suffering from a lack of sleep today...)

Squiggle Bop: Remember, when the mummified ergo-man raps your knuckles with a ruler, citing "a formation of the drone digits that is not in keeping with the company code," that he's trying to save you from yourself. Idle hands may make for a nasty nasty playground, or workshop, but busy hands are far more subversive. Sure, Beelzebub plays with idle hands, but busybody hands can actually conjure the old codger himself. I've heard that the ol' boy enjoys playing dominoes with idle hands, and sometimes uses the fists--severed at the wrists--as chess pieces.

Alura: Simon Frith would most likely agree with your music-as-reflection-of-self theory. The listener chooses music that identifies and represents himself/herself, so any criticism or praise of the music is taken personally, as an evaluation of the listener. Which is why Limp Bizkit fans always throw stale tablebreads at me whenever I mock Fred Durst. Or why, if you ever meet one of those pixie girls in faerie wings, tell her that you listen to Tori Amos and she'll kiss you on the cheek.

I didn't mean it that way, actually--I was thinking more of the listener trying to mold his/her subjective taste into some form of objective appreciation. As when a painting is canonized by its placement in a reputable museum. E.g.: If I tell enough people that I thought Applesaucer should have won a Bammy last year, maybe someone influential might overhear, it might get reviewed in the CMJ, and then my tastes will be validated by an authoritative source.

-OR- I might bring happiness into one person's headphones by getting them excited about a piece of music that they had never heard, but that inspires rushes and blushes of swoony fandom.

::: posted by kevin seal at 10:33 AM

Tuesday, July 17, 2001 :::
 
Kevin: I totally understand your sister's woolen curiousity, it's a natural extension of our capacity for love. Nothing to be ashamed about, Missy taught me sooo much about life. Also, about rewriting corporate press releases, remember that corporations provide and care for us. They feed us, clothe us, and package us in airtight coffins when we die. No more of that, the sun is out today which is signficantly better for my spirits. Although the windows are closed and the air in here is stale and hurts my lungs. I'd cry out for help, but I tried that yesterday and now I'm restrained at my desk, trapped in my poorly designed office chair that is slowly giving me scoliosis. My only outlet for creative expression is this weblog. I'm afraid soon they'll bind my fingers down, they're spying on me you know. They want me to type only in the prescribed manner, without dilly-dallying all the time on these purile sites. Wait a second. The mummified, desexed, ergo-man is approaching.. He's eyeing my free fingers. I must struggle and save my last means of expression, from being taped down and restrained... If you never hear from me again, do one last thing for me. Take care of Missy!

::: posted by sly squiggle at 12:24 PM

Monday, July 16, 2001 :::
 
re: Kevin's music post...so it's kinda like a music-as-reflection-of-self thing? You want other people to see in it what you do, and something in it reveals your inner nature somehow? I guess that's why people of particular moods and views gather around certain bands, so they can all mope or rage together, tribally. As for the reflection of personality bit, 2nd Lieut. Dr. Patrick once said I was like my favorite band the Cocteau Twins..."you're pretty and you don't make any sense."

Read a story in Discover mag today about whether music appreciation and ability is a biological/evolutionary adaptation. Interesting things on certain bird species chirping in a western scale, and what chemicals are released in your body while playing or listening to music (i.e., playing music releases healthy immune-system bits, listening to music of any kind makes testosterone levels drop in men and rise in women!). Makes me want to go back to my original plans of going into ethnomusicology or the psychology of music.

Kimo's ode to work:
a bassist, drunk on whiskey and wine,
at work was compelled to opine
"don't be macabre
take this bitch-ass job
and shove it where the sun don't shine."

in other news, I got an e-mail with atrocious spelling and grammar telling me that a Goddess Cafe is opening in Hayward, apparently a "medicinal hemp shop," says the guy who claims he's doing electrical work there. Feh.

::: posted by Alura Allumeuse at 8:32 PM

 
Kimo (r) has a new ode to work, too, a song entitled "Take This Bitch-Ass Job." It still needs lyrics, though.

I'm growing more and more annoyed with the knowledge that my job essentially consists of rewriting press releases. Once I claw my way out of tour-related debt...

Hey, Squiggle Bop: My, um, sister wonders if she could borrow Missy the bespeckeled lamb next weekend. She, uh, is trying to face her fear of wool.

::: posted by kevin seal at 4:49 PM

 
goddesscafe
-Ode to work
Monday. Drips outside through the dreary dreary gray. Fog and minutes pass. Like my youth.

::: posted by sly squiggle at 3:30 PM

 
Pathological music fandom is all about sharing musical experiences with other people, I think. Even agoraphobic music collectors--archivists and completists and those types--do it partly to prove themselves to all of the other archivists and completists, I think. The joy comes in expressing to someone else what exactly it is that you hear in a certain song or album that draws you to it. Every music critic I've met does it for that reason, at least; to attempt to articulate their passions, and to find other people who share those passions.

(Well, that combined with the arrogance of thinking that every other person in the world should refine their tastes to be similar to yours.)

As for music-obsessive behavior, I always become most evangelical about complete unknowns, for obvious reasons. There's a whole ocean of people releasing albums on CD-R -- total pressings of, say, 100 discs -- and occasionally a pearl washes ashore.

That said, I'm compelled to convince you all to check out my favorite finds of the past year...
Thom Moore: Angular deconstructions of early-'60s janglepop. (trans.: very catchy, very short songs; melodies that get stuck in your brain without endless repetition, set against guitar and bass lines that swivel and shift on a dime.)

Stevie Harris: He sings a bit like Jeff Buckley. He writes a bit like Stevie Wonder, if Stevie Wonder were given to passionate, half-coherent anti-establishment rants. Occasionally, he lapses into self-righteousness, but damn he got soul.

Brook Long: Eye-wateringly pretty melodies, and arrangements that veer from unadorned acoustic guitar to near-orchestral heights of indulgence. Lo-fi epics.

Had to throw those out there. Musical obsessiveness justifies itself every time you can convince one person to hear an album that he/she would not have heard otherwise.

(side note: just stumbled upon Ishmael Reed's online magazine, Konch. scroll down for the goodies.)

::: posted by kevin seal at 10:31 AM

Sunday, July 15, 2001 :::
 
The brooklyn boot called me for the first time the other day, sending wild panicked thoughts of tragedies through my head. Upon discovering he only needed a phone number, we proceeded to discuss other things, such as the Experience Music Project in Seattle. I'd only seen it under construction when I was there in Oct '99, so I'm curious to visit. Perhaps when the Col.K boys play Portland I will tag along and make them skip up there with me.

Speaking of experiencing music, I've been pondering lately the depth of music-obsession among my friends, and if I'm somehow deficient in that area. Sometimes I think it's because I've rarely shared musical experiences with people. For example, I bought this tonight, for no other reason than it looked like I might enjoy it, which I do (I have about a .500 batting average randomly grabbing visually-appealing things from the "world fusion" bin at Amoeba), but who the hell else would like it? Other than an incredible night last fall spent listening to Kid A for the first time with a certain blonde musician whose tastes are usually opposite mine, I don't really have musical-bonding experiences to draw on. Or is this just more evidence of my general pickiness?

Oh, and as squiggle mentioned Golden Gate, on Fri night after we saw The A**hole Monologues, Jonathan drove me across the Golden Gate Bridge to show me a visual trick -- that as the street lights rush towards you, the second tower looks as if it's receding, or not moving at all, since it's so far away. Pretty hip. (although some find the bridge stressful)

::: posted by Alura Allumeuse at 10:18 PM

 
It all started with the cry of the wild bandersnatch. B-l-o-g it whispered on the night air. I heard it from my patio many a time, but always shut the sliding door swiftly, hoping the call would vanish as quickly as the cold air from my apartment. So, I sat there still, waiting, as it moved on. The sound would subside, but the anxiety was a constant reminder of duty and responsibility that I had long ago forgotten. So, I buried myself in any subject I could find that would temporarily ease the nervous ticks and erase the word "blog" from my conscious mind. I took up handi-crafts, Sri Lankan ritual cooking techniques, ancient Japanese wood cut printing, fine iron basket blacksmithing and finally in a vain attempt at real escape -- animal husbandry. But alas, the whisper on the wind caught me unawares one memorable dusk, as the sun set quickly over the Pacific and the Golden Gate glowed with a quiet assurance of American might and manifest destiny fulfilled. I was walking the grassy knolls of the Oakland hills with my flock in tow when I felt the familiar tug, but this time I could no longer resist. To this day, I feel it was not a conscious choice, although life is made up of such choices and it is in the end the sum of our choices that define us. But this was something much deeper -- a need for connection beyond what Missy, my very favorite bespeckeled lamb could offer. So I gave up the quiet seclusion and meditation of a shepherding life, and returned to the wellspring of my on-line alter-ego, when I was known simply as Squiggle Bop.

::: posted by sly squiggle at 1:03 PM