Southern Comfort

One of the many awesome songs played on the indie station here in Southern Virginia I grew up in what used to be a small-ish suburb1 called Newport News, tucked between Williamsburg and Norfolk, Virginia. I worked summers at Busch Gardens, exchanged mix tapes with friends, drove to Buckroe Beach, or Croatan, or down to Kill Devil Hills and Hatteras to watch the cute surfers, and led a life I judged completely boring. I left for college and never lived in Newport News again. I needed edge! I needed clubs and concerts and art and a city vibe! I needed black clothes and bad attitudes! So I eventually made my way to the New York City metro area. One thing leads to another and here I am several2 years later back in Newport News for a week-long holiday with my daughter. As we are approaching Newport News I’m flipping around the radio stations for something to listen to, and to my utter shock I hear Atlas Genius coming out of the speakers. The next song was something equally indie3 – Battleflag by Lo-Fidelity Allstars. And so was the next. Way to go, 96X! How unbelievably cool to have an indie station here, when there isn’t an indie station anywhere near NYC, a town where you can barely get tickets to shows before they sell out. I had told my Mom I wanted to catch a yoga class while I was in town, and her yoga instructor arranged for me to have a week-long free pass at her studio. So I rolled into town in time for the 5:00 class...

Wilde Saturday Watching Top Gear

I’d like to share my perfect Saturday: compiling quotes to use on the backs of my new business cards with Top Gear on in the background. I’m reawakening my never-far-from-the-surface adoration of Oscar Wilde while fantasizing about driving fast cars with very funny British guys and beating Jennifer Saunders’ lap time1. A few of my favorite Oscar Wilde gems: Never love anyone who treats you like you’re ordinary. We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world. If you want to tell people the truth, make them laugh, otherwise they’ll kill you. I just returning from a social media marketing conference in Las Vegas where I met a guy named Travis Wright who had Photoshopped onto the back of his business card his “Dream Team.” He has everyone from Thomas Jefferson to Nikola Tesla sitting around a table, discussing something deep2. He says it inspires him. I love that idea. So I’m assembling my own dream team. I figure it will take a few months of mulling to capture a decent collection. Here’s who I have so far: Oscar Wilde (naturally) Shakespeare Caroline Bayard Eleanor Roosevelt Charles Bukowski Ghandi Maya Angelou Lao Tzu Brian Greene Brian Cox (I love astrophysicists named Brian – I collect them) Matisse3 T.S. Eliot That’s just me working off the top of my head.  Who’s on yours? ______________ 1 1.46.1 2 So deep it sunk...

Single Spectator Theatre: Hotel Project at the Grand Summit Hotel in NJ

So get this: I went to see three one-act plays. Crazy, right? Yea, it isn’t. Except that I didn’t watch these three one-act plays from a frayed, faux velvet seat facing a stage. Each play was staged in a hotel room at the (haunted1) Grand Summit Hotel in good old Summit, New Jersey, with me in the room as the only participant in the play with no lines. It was the coolest, most stimulating, mind expanding thing I have experienced in a very long time. The Hotel Project was produced by The Internationalists, an organization that brings together theater producers, directors, actors, and other devotees of the stage arts from around the world. These hotel room plays were put on in Summit, NJ, New York City, and I think Mexico City. It is such a cool concept. It plays into the human predilection toward voyeurism, and brings interactivity to an otherwise passive experience. It’s exhilarating. I came away from the hotel feeling literally expanded. Even the set-up is fun. I walked into the hotel (which is truly Grand, just as the name boasts – it’s gorgeous) and was greeted by a receptionist that told me my escort would be with me shortly. I could help myself to a beverage and snack, but chose instead to flip through one of the magazines piled on the table in front of me. Since each play is put on for just one person at a time the ticket start times were staggered by 30 minutes or so. The start time for me was 9:40p on a Sunday night, which added to the drama....

Crying

Today I fell in love with Alan Simpson. Huge thanks to my source, Kathleen, and her unparalleled1 sense of the absurd. Showcased here. ________________ 1 It took me a full minute to get the right number of Ls and Es in this word. Why make words so hard to...

Renewed

I’m back from BlogHer (an annual conference and networking event geared toward female bloggers) and am aswim in swag. Bags of it. I would need one of those slaughterhouse meat hook-style scales to weigh it all. I got kitchen sponges from a Real Housewife (Tamra – even more gorgeous in person), free Spanx, Silly Bandz (thanks, Mary!), a Mr. Potato Head, a reflexology session, nail polish, pounds of branded crap, Magnolia cupcakes, and some very fun toys. I also found out I can’t give blood because I lived in London during the Mad Cow Years and COULD POSSIBLY HAVE IT. Free shit and ravaging brain diseases aside, the other significant events of the weekend all involved the actual BlogHer conference: the sessions, networking, and opportunity to meet a couple personal idols and lots of interesting women with something to say. I went in verrry nervous about having to put myself out there and actually tell people about my blog. I love this little blog of mine, but it’s not a finished product yet. It’s still hosted on Blogger. I only post once a month. I have three followers (love you guys! xoxo!!). I had visions of the Writing Police jumping out at me from behind a potted palm and publicly berating me for daring to call myself a writer, my homemade business cards fluttering to the conference room floor as they cuff me and drag me off. The other imagined nightmare-ish situation stems from my fear of large groups of women: they terrify me. When I need to approach or interact with more than three women at a time...

Scattered

Listening to Tune-Yards (Bird-Brain) I’ve got so much new music coming at me from my Blip DJs I don’t know where to focus my attention. It’s aural ADD – AADD if you will. Here’s my workday now, to give you an idea of the level of distraction I’m talking about. Drive to work mentally scrolling through all the songs I want to remember to play. Each one crowds out the last, so by the time I get to my desk I’m struggling to remember which office is mine, let alone even one song title or band name. Throw personal belongings under desk, open gmail (compulsive about checking email – I really need help) mostly to see who’s already blipping, then immediately open Blip. Half the time I don’t even bother sitting down first. Then I spend the first half hour mostly blipping with short breaks to check work email and figure out how much really needs to get done that day. I slowly and disjointedly accomplish about half of it in between blipping and compulsively checking my email. Miraculously, all my clients are doing really well. (I put that in there in case my employers ever get wind of this blog). No, for real, they are, and it must be by sheer force of will on my part coz Blip is getting my A-game during work hours. And I’m not nearly as dedicated as many of the DJs I’m following. These kids (I’m pretty much the most geriatric thing on this site) are sending out a new song with clever comment at a rate of 15-20 blips an hour....