I knew Elton John and his husband recently had a child. I'd even heard that the child's middle name was Levon, a fact that thrilled me because Levon is my favorite Elton John song. Today I was informed that the child was born on Christmas Day. Far from being born a pauper to a pawn this little boy is now blessed not just with two loving fathers, one of whom is one of the greatest musicians of the late 20th century, but with one hell of a story behind why he was named what he was.
I guess we'll have to wait a few decades to see if Zachary Jackson Levon has a son of his own and if he calls the child Jesus. I'm not ashamed to admit that my fingers are crossed.
If you're anything like me and spent years wondering who exactly Alvin Tostig was this page does a very good job of breaking it all down.
1.22.2011
Say Hello To Your Friends
Back in the day we were pre-teens instead of tweens and as a pre-teen I was all about every and any book series I could get a hold on. Like most similarly inclined young women of my generation I read and adored everything in the Babysitters Club and Sweet Valley canon. But there were other smaller, less remembered series that kept me company on rainy days and lazy Saturday mornings when playing outside wasn't possible or appealing and nothing on TV seemed worth it. One such series was the Sleepover Friends. Everything about it is right there in the title but if you need a deeper explanation it was about a group of young girls who were friends and held a sleepover together every weekend. They each had their own distinct personality and background so that the majority of the reading audience would have at least one character to identify with and my favorite was Stephanie. Stephanie was the Loud One (which I was) and the Fashionable one (which I wasn't) and had a play house in her backyard (nope but I did have an above ground pool, swing set and a few really cool trees). What I remember most about Stephanie is that "her thing" was she always wore red, black and white. All three colors at the same time and nothing else. I wanted nothing more to do the same but my mother who bought my clothes and thus picked them out was more enamored with all the neons and pastels the early 90s had to offer.
This morning I got dressed to leave the house and without really thinking any further than "These are clean and go together" I put on black jeans, a red and white shirt and a black cardigan. Some 16 years since I last read one of these books my old friend Stephanie was who I immediately thought of. These books weren't great literature, weren't even the best of their genre but I applaud the author (authors? so many of these series were written by committee) for planting something in my brain that will never go away. I'm sure a lot of space could be taken up arguing for or against the idea that what is good literature or literature at all is only debatable up to a certain point and that any author worth his or her salt should strive to be remembered for the right reasons. But the truth is I see no shame in the Wakefield twins of the trashy, non educational, shallow world of Sweet Valley being as much a part of my reader DNA as Anne Shirley and Jo March, two women who belong in books that almost always made the list of Great Classics. If/when I ever get published I'll be just as happy to write something that someone out there loves as I will to write something that someone out there respects.
I do promise to never, EVER pay any sort of fashion homage to Claudia from the Babysitters Club and if you need to know why that's such an important promise to make I'll direct you over here and bid you a very entertaining reading experience.
This morning I got dressed to leave the house and without really thinking any further than "These are clean and go together" I put on black jeans, a red and white shirt and a black cardigan. Some 16 years since I last read one of these books my old friend Stephanie was who I immediately thought of. These books weren't great literature, weren't even the best of their genre but I applaud the author (authors? so many of these series were written by committee) for planting something in my brain that will never go away. I'm sure a lot of space could be taken up arguing for or against the idea that what is good literature or literature at all is only debatable up to a certain point and that any author worth his or her salt should strive to be remembered for the right reasons. But the truth is I see no shame in the Wakefield twins of the trashy, non educational, shallow world of Sweet Valley being as much a part of my reader DNA as Anne Shirley and Jo March, two women who belong in books that almost always made the list of Great Classics. If/when I ever get published I'll be just as happy to write something that someone out there loves as I will to write something that someone out there respects.
I do promise to never, EVER pay any sort of fashion homage to Claudia from the Babysitters Club and if you need to know why that's such an important promise to make I'll direct you over here and bid you a very entertaining reading experience.
1.21.2011
New Year
Hey there, blog world!
Didn't totally mean to drop off the face of the planet there. December was a joyful mess of staying on top of things work wise, holiday wise and social times wise. January has just been a plain ol mess of illness and car issues. I've had a lot of time to spend in front of my computer but most of it has been spent watching or listening to something while my body fought off that nasty sort of cold that only exists this time of year. I've become the consummate consumer with little to show of the producer side of me. With monthly subscriptions to Netflix, Hulu and eMusic and a decent portion of my paycheck dedicated to iTunes and B&N's NOOK store I feel more than confident that I'm doing my part in keeping the entertainment industry alive and over paid.
I've often thought that the best use for this blog would be that of a dumping ground for my thoughts on music, TV, movies and books. But there's that defiant part of me that doesn't want to waste my words on the works of other. I want to create and be known for my creations not just the pretty words I put to others blood, sweat and tears. I had a day off today and after taking care of a dozen mind numbing errands I treated myself to an afternoon at Starbucks with my laptop and my Soy Mocha (no whip). The plan was to get on to the screen a story that's been trying to develop in my head for going on a year now. I know the characters, the setting and how it all begins but as I sat there staring at my blank work document everything else going around me became easier to look at. There was the elderly couple doing a crossword puzzle together and breaking and warming my heart with how well they fit together, the two women in the corner with a quilt between them and a heated discussion that seemed to be about quilting or knitting and the group of high school kids with their Frappuccinos and conversation about who knows what. Everything I wanted to write seemed not worth writing about so I ended up listening to the new Decemberists album instead. (It's great by the way.)
So maybe I will talk about other people for awhile because frankly the amount of good books I've read, good movies I've seen, amazing albums I've listened to and TV shows I've lost whole days to watching lately is staggering. Nothing in life is as important to me as art whether it be consuming it, producing it or both. It's been the focus of most of my life so to not make it the focus of my blog seems disingenuous and pointless especially when the best part of stumbling across something you love is getting everyone around you to love it too.
Didn't totally mean to drop off the face of the planet there. December was a joyful mess of staying on top of things work wise, holiday wise and social times wise. January has just been a plain ol mess of illness and car issues. I've had a lot of time to spend in front of my computer but most of it has been spent watching or listening to something while my body fought off that nasty sort of cold that only exists this time of year. I've become the consummate consumer with little to show of the producer side of me. With monthly subscriptions to Netflix, Hulu and eMusic and a decent portion of my paycheck dedicated to iTunes and B&N's NOOK store I feel more than confident that I'm doing my part in keeping the entertainment industry alive and over paid.
I've often thought that the best use for this blog would be that of a dumping ground for my thoughts on music, TV, movies and books. But there's that defiant part of me that doesn't want to waste my words on the works of other. I want to create and be known for my creations not just the pretty words I put to others blood, sweat and tears. I had a day off today and after taking care of a dozen mind numbing errands I treated myself to an afternoon at Starbucks with my laptop and my Soy Mocha (no whip). The plan was to get on to the screen a story that's been trying to develop in my head for going on a year now. I know the characters, the setting and how it all begins but as I sat there staring at my blank work document everything else going around me became easier to look at. There was the elderly couple doing a crossword puzzle together and breaking and warming my heart with how well they fit together, the two women in the corner with a quilt between them and a heated discussion that seemed to be about quilting or knitting and the group of high school kids with their Frappuccinos and conversation about who knows what. Everything I wanted to write seemed not worth writing about so I ended up listening to the new Decemberists album instead. (It's great by the way.)
So maybe I will talk about other people for awhile because frankly the amount of good books I've read, good movies I've seen, amazing albums I've listened to and TV shows I've lost whole days to watching lately is staggering. Nothing in life is as important to me as art whether it be consuming it, producing it or both. It's been the focus of most of my life so to not make it the focus of my blog seems disingenuous and pointless especially when the best part of stumbling across something you love is getting everyone around you to love it too.
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