is the word 'diary' better than the word 'blog'? probably not.
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Music and Television. And also: The Perils of Passing.
Music and Television. And also: The Perils of Passing.
I�m listening to the first Massive Attack album right now. It�s still really good. And it is reminding me of when I went to see them play in Vienna when they were on the Mezzanine tour. That was one of the best concerts I�ve ever witnessed. All loud sound and good beats and crazy crowd and a female singer so hott that I think everyone in the concert hall wanted her, regardless of what anyone might have thought of his or her own sexual orientation before the night began. It was post-Tricky, but Horace Andy was there that night. And the hott woman in question? Shara Nelson, the female voice in on the first album.
I really like all the work the group has done with Tracey Thorn, Elizabeth Fraser and Sinead O�Connor. But there is no way any of those women could ever be as hott as Shara Nelson. No. Way.
I�ve been on a kick of picking a band and listening to all their albums in order, and then, if I�m still happy with them, starting over again at the first album until I�m done.
So, first Massive Attack album: still great. Second Massive Attack album: still contains the amazing song called �Protection.� Fourth Massive Attack album: better than you remember. And then there�s #3, Mezzanine. It is possibly the sexiest album ever made. And it has much musical worth beyond the sexy, too.
Speaking of hott, tonight when I took a break from finally-unpacking-the-lingering-boxes-because-Mom-is-visiting-this-weekend, I watched an hour of TV (Prison Break, which is fine, but so far not as good as I wanted it to be) during which I learned from promotional advertisements that LL Cool J will star tomorrow evening on the show called House, as a �volatile death-row inmate.� You know, Ladies do Love Cool J. Also tomorrow, David Boreanaz attempts to be someone other than Angel, the tormented re-souled vampire, in a new show in which he has neither magical powers nor superhuman strength. I�ll watch to see what this all means.
Last night I was at a meeting of a Philosophy Consortium, with members from all over the Eastern Pennsylvania/Delaware area, and, for one, it was much more fun than I thought it would be. I don�t know ANYONE, and it was a professional meeting, and I had somehow ended up with navy blue streaks in my hair (more later), so I was full of anxiety. Anyway, during the evening two people at my table proudly declared that they had televisions only to watch DVDs, and that they never watch television. I don�t care if they don�t want to watch TV. But the pride that goes along with such declarations always irks me. And so I proudly declared aloud my love of television.
Oh, sure, it�s a waste of time. But some time simply has to be �wasted,� so that we can recover from all the time we spend well, you know? And if you choose well and have some patience, you will find surprising, sometimes inspiring little pearls amongst the dross on the networks. (I don�t have cable. I have a stubborn inability to pay for something that makes me watch advertising all the time.) So you will find rare jewels every now and then, even on the networks. And then they will be cancelled. But in the meantime you will have had some weeks or months of viewing awe and excitement, and then you can set your sights on the DVD version to be released later. Oh Firefly. Greg the Bunny. Andy Richter Controls the Universe. Freaks and Geeks. Wonderfalls. Sports Night. And so on.
Anyway, this is the time of year when all the new shows arrive, and, who knows, maybe we will find something worthy in there amongst all the formulaic rocks and sticks. Today at lunch I was reading Time Out (New York), and I learned two things that I can remember: one, Fiona Apple has a new album coming out for the first time in six years. And two, Ricky Gervias (The Office) has a new show coming out on HBO called Extras that sounds amazingly transcendently good and hilarious. Makes me wish I had cable. But I won�t.
Two nights ago I looked in the mirror and realized that the streaks of color in my hair had all-too-noticeable roots. Not that I�m trying to fool anyone into thinking that the calico look is natural or anything. But the roots looked a bit too punk-rock for the Philly-Philosophical dinner I had to attend that I assumed would probably be full of fairly conservative philosophers. So I decided I would update the streaks. While doing so I decided it was time to go with less blonde, more black. Ha! When I rinsed my hair and let it dry I found that the parts of blonde that I had covered with black were in fact a very lovely shade of navy blue. Hair Coloring 101, Jill! My dye was blue-black, not brown-black. (Blue-black is such a better shade! How much more black can you get than that? Answer: none more black!) Anyway, the navy blue was so very lovely. I was enchanted by it: it was dark and gleaming and deep like a midnight sky, and unmistakably blue. Did I mention that I was trying to make my hair look less �punk rock.� So I laughed at myself as some sort of cautionary tale on the perils of all attempts at passing.
Which in itself is comic, given that I am so not punk rock or remarkable or anything; I am so, really, very normal looking in general, that I marvel whenever I find myself in a situation where I feel like I stick out. Of course that situation is created for me every time I step outside San Francisco. I am normal in San Francisco. And all the world knows that San Francisco is a little bit queer!
Also funny: the idea that a (there or nearly there) middle-aged middle-class mostly straight white woman would ever have to worry about passing! And so I must be joking, right? Right. But still, communities are funny. And tricky. Especially when you don�t yet understand how they operate, or what they see of you.
11:34 p.m. - September 12, 2005
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