SPIN THE BLACK CIRCLE

Oh yeah.  Vinyl.  Good ol' grooves.

What you are seeing on that turntable is... JOHNNY CASH AT SAN QUENTIN.

On the back of the album sleeve is my Auntie's maiden name, and the date: January 1970.  

That makes this record older than me by about 11 months.  I wasn't even an idea yet.

It's been years since we've had this record player working.  On the weekend, Jethro and Bucky finally tracked down a store, luckily not too far from home, that sells this obscure item known as a stylus.  They had to buy the entire cartridge, the whole black thing at the end of the arm.  Jethro didn't mind, even though it was kind of pricey (we'd already turned down an opportunity to go see RDJ at the movies because we didn't think we could shell out over $60...) because it's a good piece of gear.  Might even be worth more than the whole record player.  haha.  

We've got this nice record collection, made up of a combination of the following:

My record buying years:

-Duran Duran

-Tears For Fears

-The Clash

-Led Zeppelin

Jethro's record buying years:

-Ozzy Osbourne

-Black Sabbath

-Led Zeppelin

-Yngwie Malmsteen (I'm not even kidding)

My parent's record buying years:

-Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass

-Baja Marimba Band (that is a seriously great record)

-Marty Robbins

-a few obscure gospel bands/ cousins and other relatives who sang hymns and got some vinyl pressed

My sister's record buying years:

-Bryan Adams

-Blondie

My mom's sister's record buying years:

-Johnny Cash

-Gordon Lightfoot

-Joni Mitchell

What an amazing collection!

We've got a Bill Cosby comedy album next to Cyndi Lauper's She's So Unusual.

Bon Jovi, Slippery When Wet and Simon & Garfunkel, The Sounds Of Silence.

(I am going to name a critter Garfunkel some day.)

Van Halen, 1984 beside XTC, English Settlement (another great record, obscure in my neck of the woods)

Forgotten Rebels and The Cure.

INXS, Listen Like Thieves and ABBA...pick one, I had a serious ABBA phase between ages 9 and 11!

We've got a Molly Hatchett record.

We've got the Iron Butterfly sleeve but Jethro turned Innagaddadavida into a frisbee about 30 years ago.

We've got two copies of Zenyatta Mondatta by the Police.

People, we've got a Sigue Sigue Sputnik record.  I'm not kidding.


ISN'T THIS FUN!???!

It's been so long since we could play records.  We've been in this house for over two years and only recently got our stereo system set up.  This is a temporary home... we weren't even planning on being here this long.  But we missed our music.  Now we can watch TV, watch a movie on DVD, I don't think we can play our Wallace & Gromit VHS ("everybody knows the moon's made of cheese...") and I don't think we can play cassettes (yes we still have those too, how do you think we listen to all the Van Halen?) but I do think we can play CDs... there are four remotes and I'm still not sure how to turn the TV on --seriously, four remotes and I'm still getting off my butt to hit the channel button? We've got an iPod dock hooked up so we can drop an iGadget in there and listen to a playlist.

And now, WE CAN PLAY RECORDS!

Last night Bucky discovered Blizzard Of Ozz.

We'd given him the disc last year and were shocked to hear how different it sounded.  Apparently somebody thought it would be a good idea to re-record the bass and drums.  We thought it was a terrible idea and decided to ostracize that CD, promising Bucky we'd get the ol' record player fired up.

So I gave Bucky the tutorial on Dropping The Needle.

There's the hissing and crackling, and there's Randy Rhoads, and we grinned.  The record skipped.  I giggled.  "It's the real thing, kids!  There's nothing else like it!"

Jethro later said, "I played the crap outta that record.  I bought it used, and then I played the crap out of it."

Well kids, it's not perfect.  The turntable has a nasty ground hum that can be heard between tracks.  There will be noises coming out of those vinyl grooves that aren't music.

But the music is there.

It isn't compressed, it isn't crushed down into MP3 files.  It doesn't have any of that ProTooled sandpaper-on-the-ears bullcrap.  It wasn't mastered so loud it hurts.  Music shouldn't hurt.  You should be able to turn it up and enjoy it without suffering hearing damage.  Jethro has been devoting his career to making good-sounding music and making a stand against music that just sounds like a wall of fuzz.  A lot of teenagers have grown up on recordings that have been processed to death.  And they listen to slammed files with no dynamics and way too much noise.  They listen to it loud, in earbuds.  They don't really know how recorded music is meant to sound.  Half the time they've only got one earbud in, which makes Jethro tear his hair out, because he spends 16 hours a day mixing in stereo -- as in, each side has something different going on -- and these guys are only listening to one side.  They're missing half of it.

Let's face it: the entire music industry is a broken rusted shadow of its former self.  We know this first hand.  We live it.

And Bucky and Annyong go to school, stand on their little soapboxes and proclaim all of this to their misguided peers.... and are met with uncomprehending stares.

Ours aren't allowed to have a million small files of music on their iPods.  They are allowed to have like, a couple hundred, that are in big files and sound good.

So we listened to Ozzy last night.  Wine is fine, but liquor is quicker.  Tonight we'll listen to the story of Mr Crowley.  Tomorrow night we'll listen to side 2 of Johnny Cash cussing his way through a set of songs to the appreciative howls of a bunch of prisoners.

GOOD TIMES.

It is far from perfect, vinyl, but I don't think we've reached a perfect method of recording music yet in the first hundred years of the art and science.  Records are better than wax cylinders.  Besides, wax cylinder players are even harder to find than record player needles.

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine... I keep my eyes wide open all the time...

The Friday Report, Starring my Imaginary Twin Half-Brother Separated at Birth Seven and a Half Years Apart

So I haven't been sleeping well this week.  I'm not sure who's fault it is; mine? Jethro's?  Effexor's?  Nigel's?  Dobby's?  Does it matter?  At least I haven't been having those horrific nightmares like I have for the last couple of months.  It ain't fun waking up in a cold sweat with vague foggy impressions of sheer terror.  It makes me want to sleep with one eye open, gripping my pillow tight!

I wake up in the morning feeling kind of disoriented, tired, and confused.  I'm often left wondering exactly what the heck is going on in my brain.  

But, the last couple of nights I've been back to my totally normal vivid dreams in which everything makes perfect nonsense!  I was driving my old '76 Nova again!  Man, I loved that car. Too bad about that rust around the windshield.  I mean, any autobody guy will look at that and go, nuh uh.  But I can still drive it in my dreams, with Led Zeppelin blasting out the windows. That's why dreams are often better than real life.  (I only had an AM radio in that car.)  So I was singing along to The Ocean, at the part about the Girl Who Won My Heart, and hot damn I was singing goooood.  I parked the car in an orchard and sat through a wicked good rainstorm.  It was awesome.  Then there was some stuff about a castle and a ballroom and a really big dress.  It was veddy veddy mahvelous.  

And I cannot tell the rest.  Sorry.

So anyways, on Sunday, which happened to be Father's Day, our kids took part in their spring piano recital.  It's become very clear to us that the Boy is a freakin star.  He has no microphone fear, which is partly a result of being a recording engineer's son.  We were so proud of him, because when he made a mistake, he kept playing like nothing happened.  And the Girl?  No mistakes. Perfection.  We're beaming with pride.

I'm so glad we got that piano.  I love it.  But I have to tell you, I do not allow piano abuse.  If I ever catch you dangling a cigarette over my piano, so help me, I will yell that thing right outta your pretty mouth.  I'm serious.  I don't care how pretty or enticing or smooth or intelligent or funny and gorgeous you are - NOBODY disrespects my piano like that.  

I'm serious!  Stop lookin at me like that.  

Music lessons have been a financial strain, but, like my all encompassing horse addiction, we suffer to pay for it.  We do without cable TV and video games and sometimes things like um, new clothes.  We gotta have the horses and the music.  The Girl, with her Apocalyptica obsession, has become totally enamoured with Metallica's black album and decided to learn those big heavy ballads.  Jimmy, the best music teacher in the world, happens to have the sheet music for The Unforgiven, which made the Girl shriek all the way home from her lesson last night.

And she's decided that she's going to learn guitar.  And violin.  And cello.  I told her she better practice that piano more often.  And learn how to tune things with strings.  And please play more music for me because I love it.

I might even pick up that guitar again.  It's been years and years since I played my six chords over and over.  All my left fingertip callouses are gone.  

There's a "rock band" at the Girl's school, and I keep ranting to her that it's ALL BOYS.  Like the boys get to play guitars on the school gym's stage, and the girls are supposed to stand there and get all moony eyed at them.  Not that there's anything wrong with that.  I myself am a moony eyed girl.  Still, after all these years.  But geez man, it's 2008.  Can we get the girls on the stage too?  Girls can play instruments!!  My kid is so naturally talented and I'm like, "If I could sing and play like you, you think I'd be doing this?  Well okay I probably still would be but use your voice kid!  Rock like God meant you to!!!"

But she's fourteen and is spending a lot of time working on her giggling, hand flapping, eye rolling, shrieking, jumping up and down skills.  So, like, obvi, she's really busy.

Johnny Depp got a new tattoo.  I think it's intriguing.  I like tattoos but my husband doesn't want me to permanently mark up my perfect skin.  I guess we'll just have to content ourselves with drawing triangles between all my moles and freckles.  I still want a tattoo of a red Arabian horse though.  

Apparently Johnny's new tat is from a James Joyce novel.  Wow, the guy gets classic literature tattooed onto his arm.  I am... speechless.

And THIS.  THIS is just... I mean... the car and the... I mean, I'm not so much a girl that gets all silly about the white shirt-waistcoat combo but... with the car and... y'know?????

(So add this to my list of Movies I Must See.)

Cuz you know I'm more of the "I like 'em scruffy and pretty" type.  D'you see what I mean?  This has nothing to do with my Friday report but I just really like this picture.  And it's my blog so I can do what I want with it, mwa ha ha ha ha!  

My husband is especially scruffy and pretty this week. Scruffy because he has been at work so much that he hasn't had time to shave. Pretty because of those long black eyelashes...

You know, I had a brown fedora when I was about The Girl's age.  I got it from my Grandpa and it was a bit too big for me, but I wore it like crazy for a phase.  I thought I was so cool.  I'm pretty sure I wore it with my blue plaid shirt too.  

I did not look this cool in it though.  More like, giggling, hand flapping, eye rolling, shrieking, jumping up and down kind of cool.  Maybe not cool at all.  Hard to say, now that I look back more than twenty years! 

 

Now I'm mostly just barn clothes wearing, tired eyed, greasy haired, and full of things I have to do.   
I was driving out to the Little Valley this week in my pickup truck to teach a lesson - yes, my first unsupervised lesson!!! - and I was thinking, really, that despite all of my freakouts and depressions and stresses and that irritating unwanted mental commentary that cycles through my brain all day... my life has some serious shining bright spots.

Then I looked around and realized that I was a few miles further down the road than I expected to be and wondered how long I'd been lost in thought.  

Okay, this again has nothing to do with my week but does anybody else feel as bothered by a drip on ice cream in the corner of somebody else's mouth? Just asking.

Okay, I'm done.  I must spend some time with Jethro before he blasts off to the studio again, and I head out to the Little Valley for an afternoon of observing riding lessons, cutting up branches, pulling weeds, and riding a horse or two.  What's your week been like and what's your weekend shaping up to be?

Where to start???? Pick-A-Topic Friday...

1) SNOW

It's snowing this morning, and from what I hear on the radio this morning and the news last night, it won't slow up much in the next few days. It's going to get worse. Being a country kid, I've been conditioned to planning on staying put when it snows hard. Sometimes my town-raised friends laugh at my paranoia. But dude. C'mon. If you've ever been stuck in the snow a quarter of a mile from your house in a snowstorm so bad that you had to bunk at your neighbour's house...and overhear your parents discuss the luck of having neighbours so close by...and the next morning be taken home on a sled, in a big cardboard box with your little sister to keep out of the brutal wind... I think you might be a little paranoid about snowstorms too.

2) GOOD HORSE WEEK

I taught half a lesson on Wednesday. I did 15 minutes or warm up, observed the half hour lesson, and did a 15 minute cool down. I kind of went off topic though, because I'd planned on doing jog-trot-walk transitions but instead worked on posting on the correct diagonal. Some of you might be lost right now, but all you have to know is that I ended up working on something other than intended. I learned that I need a lot of practice with teaching diagonals- basically, the rider's butt has to rise when the horse's leg goes forward, but it has to be the leg on the correct side and it's all very confusing at first. I can ride it no problem myself. I can feel it out for when I need to rise, and I don't have to look down at the horse's shoulder. But teaching it is different. I need to build up some hours of observed teaching- our student said I'm like a TA- before I can do my Instructor's Exam. The best part is that this student is also aiming for an Instructor's certificate, making this whole thing educational for her as well.

Also, I had a nice short n sweet ride with the adorable pony yesterday.



She doesn't handle being idle well at all. With only two students currently, Tia is the main lesson horse, being well trained and reliable, and Skyla gets to eat and cause trouble. She needs at least one ride a week. For the last few weeks she's been fidgety and stubborn, and last week my goal was to get her to simply stand still while I got my foot in the stirrup. She's broke and good, but just throwing her attitude around.

Yesterday's ride started off great, with a nice walk, then turned intense when I asked for a trot. We had about 10 minutes of her tossing her head and me quietly telling her that that just won't cut it, and finally when we were both sweating under our bulky winter clothes and fur coat, she settled right down. I could tell she would have quit if I'd let her, but she agreed to keep working. We did some decent haunch turns and some absolutely perfect stops- soft in the neck, correct- and by the end of a half hour she was just my best buddy in the world. I rubbed her forehead extra hard. Happiness.

3) BAD WRITING WEEK

I'd really rather just throw up pictures of Led Zeppelin on my blog. Honestly. So much easier. And fun. Writing this week has been like pulling chicken teeth. I might blog next week about how blogging and writing are not necessarily the same thing. Blogging doesn't get a novel written.

I got two more rejections this week. I am disappointed. I had hopes for both agents. However, I will not go calling them nasty names or questioning their intelligence. If my book doesn't set them on fire then they won't be so enthused to sell it to a publisher. I want an agent who will fall crazy in love with this book and get everyone else curious about it.

I am going to read my book over the holidays. I know I have to rejig the query letter and I think I'll be able to look at the first few chapters (which were the weakest part originally) and know if something still needs to be fixed. There is the possibility that the combination of farm kids, church, drugs and copious amounts of swearing is a huge turnoff. Sorry man. That's the story.

Meanwhile this new project is fighting me. It's not coming out the way I want. I think I know why though... it's not the one I'm supposed to be writing. The ONE is in the back of my head, sneaking out every now and then to ask why I haven't done anything yet. I don't want to write it. It's awful. I mean, it's hopeful in the end. I want hopefulness. I don't need a happy ending but I need the possibility that it can be okay. It's just that in this story, there's some truly bad stuff to get through in order to find the hope-- ha, doesn't that sound like LIFE-- and I am struggling to find the strength to write it. I'm afraid of what it'll do to my delicate mind.




It makes all the nasty stuff in my current book seem like a fun little popcorn and movies sleepover.

I am afraid.

4) SHOPPING? WHAT'S THAT?

I have two gifts. That's it. I still don't know what to get for my son. What do you give an 11 year old who has Robert Plant's hair, Stephen Hawking's interests, Evel Kneivel's showbiz sense, and a Certifiied Dragonologist's license????

My 13 year old daughter is much easier. Horses? Orlando Bloom? Pink clothes? With extra long arms? Done.

Everybody else is getting books or pictures. I hate shopping.

5) NEXT WEEK'S TOPICS?

Barn cats, more horses, music and a heavy examination of how humans can take a perfectly good idea like religion and turn it into something unrecognizably twisted.

"Now I've reached that age, I try to do all those things the best I can..."

I know what it means to be alone...



I sure do wish I was at home...



I don't care what the neighbours say...





I'm gonna love you...



each and every day...



You can feel the beat in my heart...



You and I, sweet baby,



We ain't nevah gonna part...











Thanks to Nicole for reminding me of this momentous occasion! On Monday night when Led Zeppelin played their reunion concert, my son Bucky the nerd was playing a large part in his school Christmas concert. I asked him at bedtime if he's been bitten by the showbiz bug. His answer? "Oh ho ho hoooo YEAH!" He's already got the right hair for it.

Play along blog buddies...put your favourite Zeppelin lyric in the comments section! Throw the virtual horns! You can even tease me about how much I love old fellas. Heck, Robert ain't even 60 yet. Rock like a viking hammer of the gods whoooooooo.....

Obligatory Friday Blog Post

And then I have to get to work. Not house work. I have do finish some things. Some words. My brain is slightly less melted than it was yesterday!

And when I get the words done, when I get the letters written and the words sent off to where they're going, then, and only then, will I tackle the mess in the front hall and yes, yes, I will fix up the mess on my bookshelf.

This is not writing:


This is procrastinating!

Sometimes you have to consult your muse.



Sometimes you need to find the right equipment to do the job.



But no matter what, you have to get finished.



It's hot outside.



brain melt.



I dig deep for inspiration and I find it.

It comes from everywhere. Some finds its way into the words and some doesn't.


























I really do hope that some day all of this will make sense to you.

Back to work for me.

Scatterbrain

I want to write about the barn today. As I sit here, I can still smell the shavings on me but I'm not sure where it sits- I've washed my face and hands, so it must be my clothes. I could change... but then I wouldn't smell the barn anymore.

Here- have some pictures...





Two people have emailed those to me in the last week.

I want to write about my future horse. But I can't. Not yet. Soon.

I want to write about rock bands and how I am stupid and a brute for punishment because I have started writing another novel and yes, it has to do with music and horses too.

I want to write about how truly self-hating I must be because I insist that one of the characters in the above mentioned started work just has to be psychic. Why do I do this to myself?



I want to write about the author reading I went to but I can't concentrate on it long enough to put it together.But I will tell you this: I need to go to as many as these events as possible.








I don't want to write about violence and hatred and murder. But I think I'm going to have to. Not yet.

I want to write about spring. Finally we have green grass and a few clutches of crocuses are poking out of my front flowerbed, among the remains of last year's leaves.

I want to write about my aching body, but I don't really want to. I want it to not ache anymore.

I want to write about how much I hate computers. I'm afraid that if I do, all three of them will rise up against me and TAKE ME DOWN because I suspect they are more powerful than me. There are three of them- I am outnumbered! (I'm sorry Mac Black, I really do love you, it's just that I don't understand your kind.)


The sun is finally shining. I feel like winter is really over. I want to feel happy. All I have is a brain filled, buzzing, jumping, scattering across thoughts and images and words and senses, like a bucking horse that I can't even get close to let alone saddle up and ride.

I can't get my printer to start again. I'm trying to print all the even numbered pages now. Why can we not communicate?

I want to go outside.

Here, have a picture of Johnny as he works on his newest project with the other love of my life, Tim Burton:



Here's one of My Favourite Pictures Ever: it's like two corners of my musical world colliding...

...with wonderfully happy results! Wouldn't it be awesome if they'd plug those in and got somebody (that I know) to hit RECORD??!!!

Scatterbrain. Screw you, difficult printer. Maybe it's not even your fault, maybe it's me, but you know what? The sun's shining and I got stuff to do. Like, enjoy the sunshine.


Have a good weekend...