Grace In Small Things

1. Books that turn out better than expected

2. Photos that turn out better than expected, too

3. Finding five dollars in a pants pocket

4. Cheesy VH1 "I love..." shows

5. Making mixtapes the old fashioned way -- on cassettes

Song of the day

(Yesterday afternoon) Perfect song for a rainy day...

Hang Down Your Head - Tom Waits

Grace In Small Things

1. The creativity I've wasted coming up with some of my recent tags: "too lazy for a proper post," "just pretend to laugh," "jesus jokes are funny," and "no, I am not high."

2. 60% off sales

3. Finding a boatload of old New Yorkers in the closet and having the time to sift through them all

4. Watching your cat greedily devour her food

5. Blake Babies

Swatches

I spent yesterday making swatches for my Makeup Alley page. (See?)

Next time I'm going to recruit someone who doesn't have freckly wrists and dishpan hands. Any volunteers?

Or maybe I'll stick to photographing food instead. Cookies: much tastier than makeup.

Some(song) saved my life tonight

(Cross-posted at BlogHer)

It's been two since Michael Jackson's death and the online tributes still pour in. It's made me think a lot about the redemptive power of music: that one song or album that "did it for you." Later that Friday night, the day after his death and not in time to include it in that week's post, I found Lynnster's tribute waiting for me in my newsreader. Like me, not necessarily a fan, but hit hard by his passing:

Sure, people much younger than me knew who Michael Jackson was and experienced him being out there as the “King of Pop” for many years muscially, as well as his ongoing legal and financial troubles the last almost-couple of decades. But most of them weren’t even born when Michael Jackson wasn’t really MICHAEL JACKSON yet. He was always there, almost as long as I’ve been alive, but first he was just Michael Jackson of The Jackson 5, and pretty much almost ever since I’ve been alive, either The Jackson 5, The Jacksons, or Michael solo have all been on the radio, somewhere, sometime, all the time. I have very clear memories of several Jacksons-related episodes, probably the earliest being when I couldn’t have been more than three or four, accompanying my grandparents on the trip to Memphis either to pick my eldest aunt up at nursing school or bring her back home, being in the car with “ABC” playing on the radio.

Like I said before, I don't really have a personal "Michael Jackson moment," other than the ubiquity of his music providing a sort of aural wallpaper for my childhood. I was a little too young for The Jackson Five, about eight or nine when Thriller came out, and already past my pop music stage for all the other albums. (I had to wrack my brain to remember some of the songs from Dangerous.) Sadly, for most of my life, Michael Jackson was a punchline. And after watching Tuesday's moving memorial service, I feel a bit guilty about that.

As much as I pretend to be a music fan, I never really had that one album that saved my life. And every forum I've been a part of eventually asks that question: What album changed your life? I can't credit any album for changing my life. It's just too complicated for that. I can easily come up with three that changed my taste in music, for sure. (That would be Tim by the Replacements, Richard and Linda Thompson's Shoot Out the Lights, and Rain Dogs by Tom Waits. One, an influential, 80s modern rock record, the second, possible the saddest break-up record ever recorded, and the third, well, a Cookie Monster-voiced singer-songwriter who thought way outside the box.) Recently, Jezebel asked its readers to name theirs. Editor Hortense said of Britney Spears:

I wouldn't say that her music has ever "saved my life" or even provided a comfort in darker times. But there are albums, and artists, who have, and while some might mock Britney fans for clinging to her pop songs as a salvation of sorts, anyone who has fallen in love with a band, or a singer, I think, can understand the level of devotion these people have toward Spears and what she has, most likely unintentionally, provided in their lives.

Did an album or song ever save your life?

Disgraceful...

1. That 18-34 age group, because I'm not in it anymore. It seems like every time I turn around, there's another thing a "woman over 35" shouldn't be doing, and that's okay because it's unlikely that I'd be doing it anyway. (Wearing a miniskirt, getting a tattoo, dating a 23-year-old bass player...) But give me some alternatives already! What about 43-year-old bass players?

2. Speaking of getting old, how about essays on aging written by 28-year-olds? Next. I like those about as much as I like mothers discussing us childless chicks.

3. Neighbors with sleep disorders of the loud, screaming variety.

4. Neighbors that play AC/DC and Metallica. I see your Lars Ulrich and raise you a Glen Campbell.

5. Ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife...

Recommendations?

What would you suggest someone whose weekly top tracks looks like this



do with $8 at iTunes?

Cat Portrait With Self

I don't think I've posted this one before. If I have, just ignore it and move on...

Blogging is the new micro-blogging...

From the "completely bizarre and somewhat inappropriate things I've actually said to other human beings" file:

"If Jesus were a modern god he wouldn't need stigmata. He could just weep pus from one of his old piercings and everyone would call it a miracle."

The little souvenir of a terrible year

For almost two decades now, I've been haunted by The Sundays' "Here Where the Story Ends." I have never owned the album, but I still manage to here this song at least a couple times per month despite never being a huge hit in the US:



What song is "haunting" you?