Hurrah for Wackiness!

All you Blatherscopians know how Zerd loves her some Wacky. ('Specially Theatre-folk makin' the wack.) The commedia dell'arte is alive and well...in the Land Down Under.

Speedin' Thru The Readin'

Soooo, I have a bunch of reviews to post--somehow, for every book that makes it on to the official To-Be-Read list, I seem to stumble across other X-tras that must be read Immediately. But that is another (several?) post. This post is mostly to let you, my diligent readers, know that I have not abandoned you and posts will be forthcoming. Sooooo, this is a really Lame post. But your patience will be rewarded with pearls from my pen....Oh, yes. Pearls.

And there is lots o' other crap to ketchup on! My Tacoma/Seattle trip, what a slime monster Dick Cheney is, some solid movies, magnificent games, and the music of my life (that tiny thang). Oh, and I almost choked/stabbed my larynx To Death with a grain-sized stray piece of plastic that got into my s'ghetti at dinner tonight. All that flashed in front of my eyes was $$$$$$$$ (I've spent too much on my voice to go THIS way!).

In the meantime, here's this super-cool thang you can do with old, pallid books to get new, shiny books. And some seriously silly...well, you'll see. N-joy!

For The Fun

Trippy, id'n it? Sculptor Richard Wilson somehow convinced a building owner to let him cut an egg-shaped hole in the structure and make it revolve. Wilson calls his piece "Turning the Place Over"--it doesn't get much more British than that.

Happy Summer Solstice!

In honor of Summer (the season, goofies, not Summer Glau the actress who played "River" in Joss' short-lived but brilliant TV series Firefly--obviously, you Sci-Fi heads), I want to pass on a list of Good Things (in no particular order).

1. Who doesn't love cake? Especially fancy-schmancy dancey-prancey cakes, such as People's Cakes From Every State. My favorite is #22 (Michigan). No, wait! My favorite is #13 (Illinois). No, wait! #20 (Maryland). Oooo #23 (Minnesota)! Or #27 (Nebraska). Or #30 (New Jersey). Also, #43 (Texas). And #47 (Washington). Nevada (#28) is funny--gotta love that in a cake. But #5 (California) is just plain creepy. And #14 (Indiana) looks like the roses are bleeding chocolate. Mmmmm....salvation thru salivation?

2. The quixotic struggle to remember forgotten books. This lovely blog aims to do just that. Ain't that sweet? Although, it really just makes me feel like our puny attempts at immortality are a vain show.

3. Exclamation points!!!!!!!!!!!!! 'Nuff said.

4. Shopping for pretties. Some of my favorite sites: Elsewheres (soooo many pretties!), Mighty Goods (which is how one finds the pretties in the first place), Kimbooktu ('cuz it fills my book-nerdy heart with glee), Nama Rococo (for all my wallpaper lusts--trust me, this is not your grampie's wallpapers), Shop SCAD Atlanta (support those starving artists!), Sparkability ('cuz children ARE our future--although spending that kind of money on playthings can generate my gag-reflex), and My Shoppee Bag (the clothes are cute, and the translations of Japanese into English are even cuter).

5. Colleen Moore's Fairy Castle. It's magical.

6. Surfin' the inter-web for blogs that make me laugh. Some of 'um are funny on their own merits (example: Jesus Christ's Cool Blog, all about his adventures with his lamb, Karen, and occasionally the Holy Ghost, Doris) and some of 'um are funny because I am a condescending bastard (example: this libertarian dude who talks about defending himself against his neighbor's nuke). Other good blogs: 50 Books (funny woman turning her wit on books and life--sample: "It's a kind of a miracle, isn't it. But, like, a shitty miracle." ); Opera Chic (hilarious scoops on the austere world of opera--h4xx0r style, omg).

7. The number "seven". It's my favorite.

8. Dawn Upshaw. She's a modern goddess. These are her two most perfect recordings: The Girl With Orange Lips and Gorecki's Third Symphony: Symphony* of Sorrowful Songs. Although, I can find no fault with her recording of Samuel Barber's Knoxville: Summer of 1915 (with which, I might humbly add, I ended my Master's Recital, for all of you whom I might not have alerted, or met, in time to come).

9. TED. (No, fellow Buffy fans, not her erstwhile robotic stepfather-to-be; g*d, you guys sure have Joss on the brain today!) As a big fan of Ideas, this organization is sewwwwww kewwwwl! I heart them. There is plenty o' great shizz on their site. Watch, watch, my monkeys! Other good spots for, ya know, thought: NPR (my heart explodes with love!), Salon, How Stuff Works (for all you inquistive minds out there), and Video Jug (which shows "how-to" videos on purty much anything you could wish). Neat-o, ya know?

10. Given how much I heart books, Powell's City of Books earns a shout-out, simply because it is...well...a frackin' City of Books. I can lose myself in there for days. I always carry a spare toothbrush, just in case.

11. Speaking of toothbrushes**....Flossing. For some reason, this nightly ritual has become supremely comforting to me. I know it's weird. I know.

Ahhh, nothin' says "solstice" like Listmania!

*I accidentally typed "Sympony" the first time around. Hee! Pony.
**The plural applies to "brush" not "tooth". The more you know.

To Prick the Conscience of a Nation

Blatherscopians! A call to pens! I believe y'all know how big my soapbox is, so after a Hard Day's manual labor, I feel too x-austed to pull it out. So I will simply link to a book and a blog About Which You Should Care. I'm tired of feeling helpless, and until I figure out something More I can do, I will write to my congressional leaders, influential business persons, and even that frack head the President. The opinions of the American public shouldn't be gathered solely in polls; "They" need to see that their constituents are flesh and bloody outraged. I can't help but believe that our country would be a significantly better place if everyone took 15 minutes a week (h-e-double hockey sticks, 15 minutes a month!) to weigh in on this grand experiment called America.

Rise of the Carnie

Okay, so this evening, I brought home a bunch of flowers to put in the bajillions of vases in my living room; Hubbers walks into the room, jes' bein' his silly ole self, and I was inspired to dare him--to cram an entire carnation up his nose. And he did it. The whole red thang. Right up the right nostril.

I think I married a natural carnie--he already knows how to swallow fire. And juggle. Balls.* And play the guitar with his feet. And walk through walls. And make himself invisible. Oh, wait, the government didn't want me to tell y'all that....

Speaking of circus freaks, I finally saw Fellini's La Strada. Which I loved for its Technical Virtues. Which I disliked for its story: I'm not Franciscan enough to care for his characters--I have absolutely no compassion for for verbally abusive fools and physically abusive misogynists, and precious little for the mentally handicapped. I know, I know--this last one makes me morally suspect as a human, but it's Truth. I'm sure my prejudice is rooted in Fear, as all good prejudices are, and am confident that I Have Nothing To Fear But Fear Itself, but Ree-rees make me shudder. Kindness may be a Virtue that I jes' don't have.

*Quote of the day: "If we don't come down hard on these clowns, we'll be up to our balls in jugglers."--Hot Fuzz

Salon's Hillary Interview

Hillary Rodham Clinton gives a great interview. She is sooo smart and thoughtful (the two do not always go hand-in-hand!). I heart her.

Another Disgusting Way To Rob Children Of Their Childhood

This makes me sick. Wha'Th'Fu', peeps? G*d!!!!! Teaching our children to value, respect, and honor their bodies is one thing (yes, I can say it now: PE class was important); forcing them to adorn themselves with Barbie/Bonnie Bell before they can show their make-up-slathered faces in their 1st Grade classrooms is another (fracked up) thing. This is very different than "playing dress-up."

This is absolutely insidious. For starters, it enforces sexist inequalities of gender before/just as most kids begin to notice regular gender roles. It sends the message that this is needed--to fit in, to be pretty, to be that ephemeral "cool kid." And if this helps you fit in/be pretty/be popular, that means money can buy happiness. It creates a(nother) school time-tangible division between rich and poor kids. Its Evils are many and far-reaching.

What's next? Are little boys going to be required to don faux muscles or "package enhancers"? Ooo, maybe "Barbie Bra Padding--now for toddlers!" I'm writing to Mattel and Bonnie Bell about my concerns; I will also be copying my congressional representatives.

Don't let that bitch, Barbie, tell our children what Womanhood is or what women should be or how they should behave.*

*She already did enough damage in her 1992 Teen Talk Barbie incarnation--"Math class is hard!" but "I love shopping!"

Health: Women Need To Read This

This article in NYTimes offers a glimmer of hope--an early diagnoses of Ovarian Cancer. Ovarian Cancer has been one of the deadliest, simply because doctors have not understood what symptoms correspond with early detection, and so they don't catch it until too late. Now, thanks to researchers who actually listen to their female patients, certain woman-symptoms (when overlapping for 3+ weeks) may be telling us to get the plumbing checked. Ladies, do yourselves a favor and check it out!

A Demonstrative Taste of My Recent Activities; or, a Li'l Bit of This and That, These and Those

*My session with Maestro Steven was Rox-some! He was VERY pleased with what I had done on my own in a month--pleased to the point of surprise. It made me feel like some sort of opera singer-superhero (She can master hard concepts in a month! Sing more beautifully than an angel! Make hardened criminals weep just by clearing her throat! She is....SuperVox!!!!) He gave me a couple of bitch-ass hard arias to learn by August. [In faux Arnold voice:] I cahn dooo eet!

*I spent a lot o' time in church this weekend, doin' tha singin' thang. My Holiness Points are up to 53, so I'm pretty sure that I'm holier than thou.

*Sunday afternoon was a Paint-a-bration at BFF's house. We sanded and painted hundreds of feet of trim. Yes, I can now say that I spent all-day Sunday "getting trim." [In faux Barry White/Koolaid Man voice:] Oooh, yeah!

*I just looked over at my coffee pot (a necessity for Today's modern society), and I think it melted. I'm not kidding. I think the back half, toward the handle, is sitting significantly lower in the base. Hmmm....in that case, should I drink the rest of the coffee in the pot or throw it away? I'm still caffeine thirsty....

*In the wake of rearranging our office/game room, I am avoiding going upstairs and cleaning my desk. I feel sort-of like zookeepers must feel--fascination and wariness. What will I find there? Will I have to deal with it immediately? Will it devour me whole?

*Hubby and I watched Season 2.5 of Battlestar Galactica this weekend (known around our house as B-Star-G); despite a couple of strong episodes, we were Not Pleased. The first season was sooo very close to Perfection; the first half of the second (Season 2.0) was very strong, but exhibited a few worrisome signs of plot acceleration and throw-away characters, which, in Season 2.5, grew into full-blown Insular Episodes on Stupid Themes. They tried to use these Stupid Themes to provide grounds for character development (and, in some cases, extreme shifts of values), rather than letting characters develop naturally through relationships. For g*d's sake, if I wanted to watch a show about men using vigilante justice to try and save women from prostitution, I would watch Deadwood. So now I'm on the look-out for a good TV series to Netflix. I've been curious about Big Love, just to see if it as misogynistic as I think it must be. Anybody know anything about it? Other series recommendations? We'll watch any genre, as long as it is Quality.

This concludes the summation of the last week of my existence. May each of you experience the sort of supa-fly-ness I experience each damn day.

An Update On Everybody's Favorite Evil Grandpa: Dracula

The short version: Bram Stoker's Dracula rox! (No, not the movie. The Book, sillies.)

The long version: In the last 15 years of his life, failed actor Abraham Stoker found success with his tale of the aristocratic Undead. Blah blah blah biddy blah. I just can't do it that way--too many school flashbacks. That's a different kind of horror.

The sweet and low-down: Dracula was a seriously fun, good read. (And I'm Serious about that fun, now!) I can only imagine how thrilling it was to its original [1897] audience, untainted by vampire-myth rip-offs. The book is told "scientifically" through documents--journal entries, letters, newspaper clippings, transcriptions of wax cylinder [!] phonograph recordings, and descriptions of plate-photographs. I don't need to tell you astute Blatherscopians that this shizz was Cutting Edge. It is a wonderful touch (and perhaps the first book to do so): fighting ancient evil with "modern" tek'nol'gy.

I expected a book full of Creepies and Crawlies--what I didn't expect was a story of female empowerment, especially given its Victorian time frame. But, Zerd, you may say, there are only two major female characters (and five minor ones) versus six major male characters (and scores of minor ones); how can this be a feminist plot? I shall tell you, my chickadees. The character of Mina Murray Harker is a powerful one: it is her brains and clear-thinking that solve the mystery and devise a means to kill the anti-Christ-like monster. The men-folk, when they try to treat her as Society dictates (protecting her womanly constitution, you know), create horrible opportunities for Dracula.* Every time the men-folk realize the wrong they've done, they not only apologize, but correct their behavior. Thus, at the end of the story, Mina stands Winchester to Winchester with them as they surround His casket.

This book also gave me the word "yabblins," for which I shall be eternally grateful.

*Whose name means "devil" in Wallachian, one of the native tongues of Romania. The pun is continued while in England--there he gives his name as "Count De Ville." Get it? Hee! G*d, I heart puns, especially in Literature!

"Once" Beautiful

Whilst checkin' out new movie releases, I clicked on the website for Once, a "modern musical" about an Irish busker/vacuum repair dude finding love. The movie looks fantastic, and has gotten raves, but it was the music that enchanted me. The soundtrack plays the whole time the movie page is open. I was hooked and downloaded it immediately.* Glen Hansard of awesome alterna-rock group The Frames plays/sings the lead; his baritone is just so tender and raw at the same time....I think I might be in lurve. (Good thing Hubby's singing makes me swoon, too:)

This mellow album's songs follow the traditional Verse 1-Chorus-Verse 2-Chorus-Etc form, but uses a variety of great textures to keep it interesting (nay, hypnotic): unusual and/or shifting time meters, cool instrument combos, text-painting by tessitura displacement, not to mention intelligent lyrics that manage to be Emotional without all that extra Cloy.

I heart this soundtrack soooo much, I have it (a) in my car, (b) in my downstairs stereo, (c) in my upstairs stereo, and (d) on my iPod. Since buying it a week ago, I have listened to it more than 40 times.

Ok, so I'm trying hard here not to oversell this baby. Let me just say, this is THE MOST AMAZING ALBUM EVER!!!! There, I don't think that over-hypes it. Please, please, PLEASE go listen it. Now. Right now. Seriously. AKA "not joking." Listen...!

*This should tell you Blatherscopers something. Something Important. Because I, Zerd, am extremely discriminating in what music I will pour into my educated ears. Usually, I spend about a year trying to decide if I really want to invest in an album. When I finally convince myself that, indeed!, I do need that album to fill a void in my life, it still takes another month for me to make the Ultimate Commitment.

Red-Eyes Turned Skyward

"When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return."--Leonardo da Vinci

Tonight's red-eye will take me to NYC for tomorrow's session with Maestro Steven. G*d, I love these trips! I love the whole process of flying (although I do tend to want to bake screaming children into pies). One of my Life Goals is to become a licensed pilot by the time I'm 50; at my turtle-pace, this will indeed take the next 20 years. Right now, I'm debating which tourist-y thang to do: Empire State Building? Statue of Liberty? Walk around Greenwich Village? The brevity of the trip (as well as my moolah--or the lack thereof) does not lend itself to serious shopping. *Sigh.*

And my lessons with the Maestro are invigorating! He basically kicks my vocal-ass (hmm?) into shape until I am just one lean-mean-singing-machine. The day before travel is always tough: I'm wound up, but have to pace myself physically (so that I don't undo my months of PT, cutting off my air supply) and get extra sleep to counteract the red-eyeness. Basically, pure adrenaline lifts me through the lesson, and I collapse as soon as I'm back on the subway.

OK....I have nothing left to type....but wound sooo tightly....can't concentrate on reading* (!)....all I can picture is a giant barrel in which monkeys are rolling around in bowls of cherries.....EEEEE! Maybe I'll shut the hell up and go sing. Yeah. Sing.

*By the way, I'm reading Dracula right now, and it turns out that Dracula looks like a grandpa. Well, an evil grandpa, anyway. His white hair has receded from his "large, protruding forehead" and he has a giant mustache dripping down his cheeks! Oh, and hair sprouting out of the middle of his palms. You know, like grandpas do.

What's In A Name?

It occurs to me that many of you dedicated Blatherscopians might not know why I claim the name "Zerd."

Well, I'll tell you. Like many choices we make as adults, this has its roots deep in my childhood. (Would this be Jung or Freud's department?)

Once upon a time, in a tiny house we will pretend was a storybook cottage, there lived four children and their parents. The children's names were Elizabeth*, Joshua, Ruth, and Luke, but they called each other Biffy, Boffy, Booffy, and Bear. (No, I am NOT making this shizz up. We really were That Awesome.) Their mother was very ill and their father needed to work long hours to pay for her care, so Elizabeth, as the eldest took over the Bossing of the Children. "Wash those dishes 'til they shine!" she'd command. "Pick up your stinky socks and underwear! Help me set the table!" Elizabeth became a big tyrant. (Don't scoff: getting someone else to set the table when you are 11-yrs-old is a Major Accomplishment.) Her first brother Boffy, who was really into dinosaurs, called her a Tyrannosaurus Rex (too bad he didn't know Latin--as a female, I was a Tyrannosaurus Regni). Her second brother Bear, though, was satisfied to call her Lizard to her scaly face (and by "scaly", I mean sublimely soft and prepubescently perfect; ah, skin that has yet to know the agony of pimples! But I digress; back to the story). Wee Boofy, however, couldn't quite say either insulting nickname: Tyranasaurus Rex came out "Ree-ranus X" and Lizard got shortened to "Zerd." And it sounded so cute in Booffy's little mouth that it became a term of endearment. And the children held hands and danced in a circle singing, knowing that nothing could harm them as long as they remembered to be kind to one another.

Yup. That's why I prefer "Zerd." It's all true (except for that last sentence, which is just there because Disney paid me to end that way).

*I had three more years to go before adolescent rebelliousness made me permenently tattoo the extra "e" in the middle of my name. Watch the transformation: boring, uncool "Elizabeth" + extra "e"=hip, sassy "Elizaebeth." Oh, yeah, babies. Yeah.

Walton Goggins, This Shout-Out Is For You

I'd like to take this moment to celebrate a man whose stellar performance as "Shane" on The Shield leaves me in awe. Without being terribly likeable, Goggins' character manages to be one of the most consistently compelling anti-heroes ever created. Immoral, selfish, red-necked, greedy--but never cartoonish--"Shane" shortcuts his way through law straight to enforcing whatever puts him On Top. He is a first-class Hole of a Donkey and proud to be. While the writers of the show should definitely be commended for such a great character, it is Goggins' portrayal that gives life to "Shane." In another's hands, this character could become merely a monster, easy to judge; Goggins never allows the audience to distance itself from this man.

Plus, "Walton Goggins" is a bitch-ass awesome name. Props, yo!