Music, Barbie and the rest of the world.
Thursday, 16 October 2003 01:53![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apollaHaven't been around so much for the last few days. I wrote out a long, well-thought out post on Monday night (I think) about the Rodney King thing (about which later) and my computer froze and I lost it all.
Not to mention that all I've done in the last few days is not do my Shorthand homework and eat bread & butter. Nothing but bread and butter. Really it's been technically butter and bread. I've had six white rolls & half a loaf of medium sliced bread since Sunday afternoon- and on that I've had most of a tub of the divine Kerrygold butter. Think I put too much on there... And Amaretto biscuits- I've had some of them too. As for regular food? Fuggeddaboutit. The last actual food I actually had was the remainder of my salad on Monday. Don't know why. Last time I was this bad, I was on Special K and nowt else... and I know where that ended up (passed out, walking into the door at Reds, waking up on the pavement outside before being forcefed KFC by my scared pals). So I will endeavour to eat proper food very soon. Its not like I'm going out of my way to avoid food (the opposite) but I just... can't be bothered.
According to several people, it is Beta-Reader's Appreciation Day so I would like to hug and thank my darlings:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
gryffinseye: The first regular beta I had. The one without whom this LJ wouldn't exist. HP DDD wouldn't have a title, wouldn't have been posted I'm sure and wouldn't have a bastard sequel trying to drive me batty. Kidding. You rock, Dan!
marquiserachel: who sat in Pizza Hut Leicester Square, pulled out a sheaf of printed pages, notes and proceeded to question me on every word on every line. She was honest and unmerciful.
Poor oldemony. It's not bad enough that she has to study journalism law and shorthand on the same day, but she had to put up with my infamous lecture on HP DDD and all the bollocks that goes with it. emony, I salute thee for sitting through the whole thing!
I just found this on the tickertape on the Mirror website: John Lennon the Musical aims for Broadway. Here's the link: Lennon Musical although I don't know how long it will stay there. Just kill me now. You honestly think, Yoko darling, that John would want a musical in his honour? A musical? A concert, sure. I wasn't really sure about the range of babywear and accessories she marketed- I figured John would see the funny side above all things. But a musical? All that high-kicking, belting-out, showband stuff? Kill me now.
Ono said this: "I realised what John had meant to the world. He was a catalyst who brought down the hypocrisy and the old world establishments by saying 'Gimme Some Truth.'". Someone's started believing her own hype.
Someone seems to have slightly forgotten the point John Lennon was trying to make. Ironic it should be his wife.
What else...... We were given basically the entire history of British Journalism last night in three hours. It boils down to this: Rupert Murdoch now owns everything. Things also discovered: the dying King George V was apparently euthanised so that the paper barons could make the deadline for the morning papers. Hm. There was some other stuff, but I don't remember much beyond Daniel Defoe being such a bad businessman that he ended up owning 17 thousand pounds at one point- this being the 18thC, it was probably a He-yull of a lot more.
Oh, I saw Barbarella last night cos it was on BBC1. It's that 1967 film where Jane Fonda takes her clothes off before the opening credits are finished? Well, it sucked big time, man. I don't care if it was made by the former Mr Brigitte Bardot Roger Vadim and had a special guest appearance by David Hemmings. I don't care- it sucked and dear God, I really don't want to see Henry Fonda's daughter anything less than fully dressed ever. It was weirder in its way even than Lisztomania and was much less funny or charming. Avoid at all costs.
I was going to leave my long, thoughtful post where it belongs (consigned to the ether by a computer bollock up) but I changed my mind. Let me see if I can remember it all...
Yes. There was a show on BBC2 the other night from BBC4 (digital channel) which was basically Alastair Cooke's famous radio show A Letter From America from down the years combined with archive footage. I came in just after JFK's assassination, flicked back to something else less good, then came back in time to see Robert Kennedy lying on the floor of the Ambassador Hotel, Los Angeles, blood rapidly pooling around the dying senator's head. Previously idealistic student-types sat in shock as they watched their world begin to disintegrate (you thought the Sixties ended when the Beatles broke up? The Sixties ended when 'they' killed Dr King and RFK.). I watched this intently because I am of the opinion that he was actually a good man trying to make the world a better place (make of that what you will) for the next generation. I had seen the footage before, but I had never seen the parts with the pools of actual blood with an actual dying man. Much worse to watch, in my opinion, than his brother's public execution.
I'm getting off the point now. Basically, there were a few other snippets- Nixon's resignation, to which I paid no attention. Cooke talking about the deaths of Louis Armstrong and Duke Ellington, to which I paid great attention because I love them both. An interesting thing he said (quoting someone else that I don't remember) about the Duke's death. He said that Ellington left such a legacy behind that 'I don't have to believe he's dead if I don't want to.' This is a theory I've been working with all my life.
I'm still not getting to the point, am I? We skip to 81 for B-Movie Ronnie's inauguration, then to 1992 and my point. He was discussing Rodney King and the riots that ensued after the acquittal of the police officers involved. My point does not discuss Rodney King nor the police officers, not directly. I don't know even nearly enough about the whole thing to be able to intelligently comment on the specifics. But Cooke said something that made me actually stop. He said that the riots made us realise how delicate and fragile the civilised world is. And herein lies my point:
As long as there is inequality and injustice in our world, whether in America or Britain or anywhere, we cannot claim that this is a civilised world. If it's black/white, gay/straight, Catholic/Protestant/Jewish/Muslim/etc and so on, I don't care. As long as we continue to treat some people as More Than and others as Less Than, we cannot claim that this is a civilised world. I don't care about dictionary definitions or what the Greeks said civilisation was. I don't care much, although according to my big Collins Dictionary (currently fulfilling its destiny by flattening my new posters), civilised means 'having a high state of culture and social development' and also 'cultured; polite'. Perhaps we all have different opinions as to what that all really means, but I don't believe it means inequality, racism, sexism and all the other isms you want to name. I believe that a civlised world could be a strong, near-indestructible thing. It's only the illusion that is fragile, delicate and easily shaken.
Enough of that thoughtful stuff- I've got trivial things to talk about!
I have seen on telly here a couple of times lately a singer called Michael Bouble or something (I think there's an accent or two in Bouble somewhere). Now he's clearly a crooner sort in the Martin/Sinatra/Davis/Crosby vein, and we all know how much I love those guys (specially my innamorato Dino) so I tried to listen along when he was on Parkinson but I was totally left cold and unimpressed.
It wasn't that he wasn't a decent enough singer. He was pitch perfect, had good musicians backing him, had a nice tone, too. He was what most people would regard as relatively handsome (my thinking about movie stars and rock stars all day makes me rather pickier, apparently). And I just sat there bored even though he was singing a song I liked that I now can't remember. I've known for a long time now that the male singing voice is probably a weakness of mine greater than my need for Diet Coke. The whole thing got me thinking though- it's not just any old voice. It has to be much more than just good or technically accomplished. I started thinking yet more. Sinatra's meant to be the greatest singer in the history of the world, but I like only a small amount of his work and even then he's not close to being my favourite (sorry Frankie). It's not being very very handsome, because I do adore people like Sammy Davis and Dean Martin who are not obvious beauties, are they? It's not being the technically good, cos some of my favourites sang flat sometimes and on occasion were downright out of tune (Step up Messrs Morrison & Plant, if you would) and one of the others hated his voice so much he tried to cover it up with other stuff (your turn Lennon). So, I wonder what it is about these people. Is it chemical? Metaphysical? Is it what they sing? I've just been listening to some solo Roger Daltrey (good, nice and shouty but not Percy) and these songs are hardly great art and he's basically out of his musical depth sometimes, but I still really like it.
What is is about John, Dean, Jim, George, Robert and my other favourites that makes me want to laugh and cry, but leaves me absolutely cold with others? I really don't know what it is and I'm dying to know!
Total change of direction and subject now: Barbie.nightfall and I have just been trolling through Barbie Collectibles and trading stories of our youths spent playing. Does anyone else wish they were back in the days when the hot topic of discussion was whose house to go to according to who had what Barbie stuff?
Have also just registered with ebay.co.uk in order to get a My Little Pony video, of all things. Saw the 'Return of Tambelon' video up for grabs and my inner little girl remembered her own copy of said video and remembers playing in the infants playground at school, playing at Return of Tambelon and fighting the evil Grogor.
With that, I shall end. I think I'll be back very soon. Just figured out what day it is.
Not to mention that all I've done in the last few days is not do my Shorthand homework and eat bread & butter. Nothing but bread and butter. Really it's been technically butter and bread. I've had six white rolls & half a loaf of medium sliced bread since Sunday afternoon- and on that I've had most of a tub of the divine Kerrygold butter. Think I put too much on there... And Amaretto biscuits- I've had some of them too. As for regular food? Fuggeddaboutit. The last actual food I actually had was the remainder of my salad on Monday. Don't know why. Last time I was this bad, I was on Special K and nowt else... and I know where that ended up (passed out, walking into the door at Reds, waking up on the pavement outside before being forcefed KFC by my scared pals). So I will endeavour to eat proper food very soon. Its not like I'm going out of my way to avoid food (the opposite) but I just... can't be bothered.
According to several people, it is Beta-Reader's Appreciation Day so I would like to hug and thank my darlings:
gryffinseye: The first regular beta I had. The one without whom this LJ wouldn't exist. HP DDD wouldn't have a title, wouldn't have been posted I'm sure and wouldn't have a bastard sequel trying to drive me batty. Kidding. You rock, Dan!marquiserachel: who sat in Pizza Hut Leicester Square, pulled out a sheaf of printed pages, notes and proceeded to question me on every word on every line. She was honest and unmerciful.Poor old
emony. It's not bad enough that she has to study journalism law and shorthand on the same day, but she had to put up with my infamous lecture on HP DDD and all the bollocks that goes with it. emony, I salute thee for sitting through the whole thing!I just found this on the tickertape on the Mirror website: John Lennon the Musical aims for Broadway. Here's the link: Lennon Musical although I don't know how long it will stay there. Just kill me now. You honestly think, Yoko darling, that John would want a musical in his honour? A musical? A concert, sure. I wasn't really sure about the range of babywear and accessories she marketed- I figured John would see the funny side above all things. But a musical? All that high-kicking, belting-out, showband stuff? Kill me now.
Ono said this: "I realised what John had meant to the world. He was a catalyst who brought down the hypocrisy and the old world establishments by saying 'Gimme Some Truth.'". Someone's started believing her own hype.
Someone seems to have slightly forgotten the point John Lennon was trying to make. Ironic it should be his wife.
What else...... We were given basically the entire history of British Journalism last night in three hours. It boils down to this: Rupert Murdoch now owns everything. Things also discovered: the dying King George V was apparently euthanised so that the paper barons could make the deadline for the morning papers. Hm. There was some other stuff, but I don't remember much beyond Daniel Defoe being such a bad businessman that he ended up owning 17 thousand pounds at one point- this being the 18thC, it was probably a He-yull of a lot more.
Oh, I saw Barbarella last night cos it was on BBC1. It's that 1967 film where Jane Fonda takes her clothes off before the opening credits are finished? Well, it sucked big time, man. I don't care if it was made by the former Mr Brigitte Bardot Roger Vadim and had a special guest appearance by David Hemmings. I don't care- it sucked and dear God, I really don't want to see Henry Fonda's daughter anything less than fully dressed ever. It was weirder in its way even than Lisztomania and was much less funny or charming. Avoid at all costs.
I was going to leave my long, thoughtful post where it belongs (consigned to the ether by a computer bollock up) but I changed my mind. Let me see if I can remember it all...
Yes. There was a show on BBC2 the other night from BBC4 (digital channel) which was basically Alastair Cooke's famous radio show A Letter From America from down the years combined with archive footage. I came in just after JFK's assassination, flicked back to something else less good, then came back in time to see Robert Kennedy lying on the floor of the Ambassador Hotel, Los Angeles, blood rapidly pooling around the dying senator's head. Previously idealistic student-types sat in shock as they watched their world begin to disintegrate (you thought the Sixties ended when the Beatles broke up? The Sixties ended when 'they' killed Dr King and RFK.). I watched this intently because I am of the opinion that he was actually a good man trying to make the world a better place (make of that what you will) for the next generation. I had seen the footage before, but I had never seen the parts with the pools of actual blood with an actual dying man. Much worse to watch, in my opinion, than his brother's public execution.
I'm getting off the point now. Basically, there were a few other snippets- Nixon's resignation, to which I paid no attention. Cooke talking about the deaths of Louis Armstrong and Duke Ellington, to which I paid great attention because I love them both. An interesting thing he said (quoting someone else that I don't remember) about the Duke's death. He said that Ellington left such a legacy behind that 'I don't have to believe he's dead if I don't want to.' This is a theory I've been working with all my life.
I'm still not getting to the point, am I? We skip to 81 for B-Movie Ronnie's inauguration, then to 1992 and my point. He was discussing Rodney King and the riots that ensued after the acquittal of the police officers involved. My point does not discuss Rodney King nor the police officers, not directly. I don't know even nearly enough about the whole thing to be able to intelligently comment on the specifics. But Cooke said something that made me actually stop. He said that the riots made us realise how delicate and fragile the civilised world is. And herein lies my point:
As long as there is inequality and injustice in our world, whether in America or Britain or anywhere, we cannot claim that this is a civilised world. If it's black/white, gay/straight, Catholic/Protestant/Jewish/Muslim/etc and so on, I don't care. As long as we continue to treat some people as More Than and others as Less Than, we cannot claim that this is a civilised world. I don't care about dictionary definitions or what the Greeks said civilisation was. I don't care much, although according to my big Collins Dictionary (currently fulfilling its destiny by flattening my new posters), civilised means 'having a high state of culture and social development' and also 'cultured; polite'. Perhaps we all have different opinions as to what that all really means, but I don't believe it means inequality, racism, sexism and all the other isms you want to name. I believe that a civlised world could be a strong, near-indestructible thing. It's only the illusion that is fragile, delicate and easily shaken.
Enough of that thoughtful stuff- I've got trivial things to talk about!
I have seen on telly here a couple of times lately a singer called Michael Bouble or something (I think there's an accent or two in Bouble somewhere). Now he's clearly a crooner sort in the Martin/Sinatra/Davis/Crosby vein, and we all know how much I love those guys (specially my innamorato Dino) so I tried to listen along when he was on Parkinson but I was totally left cold and unimpressed.
It wasn't that he wasn't a decent enough singer. He was pitch perfect, had good musicians backing him, had a nice tone, too. He was what most people would regard as relatively handsome (my thinking about movie stars and rock stars all day makes me rather pickier, apparently). And I just sat there bored even though he was singing a song I liked that I now can't remember. I've known for a long time now that the male singing voice is probably a weakness of mine greater than my need for Diet Coke. The whole thing got me thinking though- it's not just any old voice. It has to be much more than just good or technically accomplished. I started thinking yet more. Sinatra's meant to be the greatest singer in the history of the world, but I like only a small amount of his work and even then he's not close to being my favourite (sorry Frankie). It's not being very very handsome, because I do adore people like Sammy Davis and Dean Martin who are not obvious beauties, are they? It's not being the technically good, cos some of my favourites sang flat sometimes and on occasion were downright out of tune (Step up Messrs Morrison & Plant, if you would) and one of the others hated his voice so much he tried to cover it up with other stuff (your turn Lennon). So, I wonder what it is about these people. Is it chemical? Metaphysical? Is it what they sing? I've just been listening to some solo Roger Daltrey (good, nice and shouty but not Percy) and these songs are hardly great art and he's basically out of his musical depth sometimes, but I still really like it.
What is is about John, Dean, Jim, George, Robert and my other favourites that makes me want to laugh and cry, but leaves me absolutely cold with others? I really don't know what it is and I'm dying to know!
Total change of direction and subject now: Barbie.
nightfall and I have just been trolling through Barbie Collectibles and trading stories of our youths spent playing. Does anyone else wish they were back in the days when the hot topic of discussion was whose house to go to according to who had what Barbie stuff?Have also just registered with ebay.co.uk in order to get a My Little Pony video, of all things. Saw the 'Return of Tambelon' video up for grabs and my inner little girl remembered her own copy of said video and remembers playing in the infants playground at school, playing at Return of Tambelon and fighting the evil Grogor.
With that, I shall end. I think I'll be back very soon. Just figured out what day it is.
