Yep!
I will be appearing live on msnbc tomorrow, sometime between 11 a.m. and noon CST, talking about the response on Newsvine.com to the Democratic Debate happening this evening.
Live. On television.
Hopefully, there will be a link available to video of my appearance, and if so, I will post it here. But I fully expect you all (all three of you) to be watching.
Frank was my friend. And now he’s gone. He’s presumably floating around wherever atheist anarchists go for the rest of eternity.
The first time I met Frank was on the first day of a class we took together. I walked in and saw him–all lanky, sexy and messy–and thought, “Who is this guy with the tattoos up his arms and the boots so broken in it’s like they’ve been on his feet since the day he was born, and the red beard and the long blond hair?” And the first time something of mine was read in class and I saw him listening, and nodding, and then he turned those twinkling, open eyes on me, and the look told me everything–that he knew nothing about me yet accepted me completely for who I was, sitting there across the semi-circle from him. I’ve adored him ever since.
There are a few things Frank taught me in the way-too-few years I have known him. Among those things are that it’s okay to believe that writing and breathing are nearly the same thing, and that it is as important to write as it is to breathe, and being true to one’s self is really fucking hard, and can be painful at times, but in the end, is far better than the alternative. And also, that spending an entire day attempting to brew beer in coffee pots is a perfectly acceptable way to pass time.
To know Frank was to know an uncomplicated, uncluttered, unselfish kind of love. My heart is broken, but the memories remain. I will never forget you, Frank.
Hello! Bad journalist alert!
I didn’t get everybody’s name. I got Perry Farrell’s name, duh. And Ted Leo’s and Tom DeLaughter’s of The Polyphonic Spree names, but I didn’t get the name of the guy doing the “interview.” His first name was Andy, and he was some kind of music critic from some kind of magazine. Don’t ask me what. Is it important? He was just pushing the conversation. And I will forever regret the fact that I am downgrading his importance, as one day, when I am leading the discussion of a panel of artists, and some random chick with a press pass forgets my name, I’ll probably be all like…”WTF? How dare you forget my name?”
Anyway, it’s Friday around 4 p.m. @ Lollapalooza. I’m all sweaty and hot and a few beers in, and enjoying my spot in the shad in the media area, and Perry Farrell, Ted Leo, and Tom DeLaughter, along with random-guy-Andy-from-the-magazine, assemble themselves up on the dais for a talk. What follows here is a glimpse into my awful brand of notetaking.
Random-Guy-Andy asks about the difference between holding Lollapalooza in one place year after year versus traveling around from city to city. He refers to the music business as being dead. While I groan inwardly, Perry takes a sip of the suspiciously watery glass of icy juice in his hand. Mind you, the guy is shirtless and wearing some kind of bizarre silver-glinting necktie. And so sinewy-sexy it was all I could do not to crawl up to the stage on my hands and…oh, nevermind about that.
Perry responds–”The music business is healthy. We have living, breathing talent, up for doing it live. Get out of your house, get out of your mind a little bit. We’re living in a great time for music right now. Young musicians are coming” and playing and interacting with their audience.
R-G-A–”So it’s more about playing live than it ever has been…”
Ted Leo: “Every audience you play for? That should be as good as it gets. This is an amazing opportunity as far as so many bands coming together as a community.”
Tim DeLaughter: “Bringing people together, bringing 70,000 people together is a wonderful achievement. All these different people coming together in times like today…for people to come together and resonate…”
And all I could think about at that moment was glimpses of the crowd–black-clad, heavy-booted folks next to Birkenstock-footed, shirtless folks next to shaggy-haired preppies. All enjoying the same music.
Perry: “Lollapalooza started the same year as the web–1991. The original idea has changed. The promotion industry got corporatized. It was a subculture but it was a community. Back then, we reached out to that subculture, that community, that was being left behind by the corporatization of music promotion.
In ushers the digital age. Within 24 hours the entire world can find out what Polyphonic Spree played half an hour ago. We’re all blogging… it’s a lot different.
Kidzapalooza…that’s the next generation.” This year, Kidzapalooza’s focus was to teach children about music.
R-G-A: How much is Perry involved in the planning of Lollapalooza each year?
Perry: “I work with my partners. We talk about the feng shui, where the stages should be set up. We have a quarter of a million dollars invested in the environmental aspect of the festival. The cabanas [corporate-purchased "suites" set up near the AT&T stage, offering a good view, relief from dealing with walking through the crowds, booze and food]…I want to see them go all the way down and then stack them.”
R-G-A: Do you play differently because people might be going to the beer line…”
Ted Leo: It’s more about the music and the sound itself. It’s not as easy…you have to engage people, you have to be on top of your game (these words are my interpretation of what he said–my notes are nearly unintelligible here, but I have a great memory. Except, of course, for the names and all that…)
R-A-G: Blah Blah Blah, a bunch of stuff I didn’t write down because I was spacing out looking at Perry’s, uh, tie.
Perry: I learned that the first thing you have to be is a music festival. Politics doesn’t work. I tried to be political, but then you’re alienating people.
There’s Green Street this year–we’re trying to be environmental without pushing people into it, we’re being subtle. If you gather a nice stack of cups and turn them in, you’ll get a nice t-shirt. I’m an extreme-athlete, I want to be sure there is snow on the mountains and the oceans are clean.”
As a Chicagoan, I’m appreciative of the money that comes from the festival in order to not only return Grant Park to it’s pre-festival state, but to further enhance its lakeside beauty.
It was the first set I listened to at Lollapalooza, and was to be my first interview. Ever. So, understandably, I suppose, I was a little nervous. I don’t know why I should have been. The man who stood on stage was so personable, so friendly and kind and so thoroughly a real-live troubadour, I should have instantly felt at ease about approaching him after the show. And after just a song or two, I did.
Maybe that’s because he was playing in the Kidzapalooza area, and of course he might want to present himself as approachable to a gathering of children and their parents.
Peter Himmelman surveyed the scant crowd made mostly of under-fives and their parents on Friday afternoon and said, “We didn’t want a lot of people here, we just wanted the best.” Cheesy? Maybe, a bit. Did I mind? Not a bit.
He introduced his song “Feet” from his new (May, 2007) children’s album “My Green Kite,” by telling us, “This is a song for anybody who has feet. Who has feet? Well good! Some people don’t.” What a rockin’ little song it is! This is rock and roll for kids and their parents. It isn’t sappy and syrupy, but has a beat, and horns, and a child-based reality to it. About another song, “A World Where You Only Eat Candy,” Himmelman said, “I think it would be a marvelous world.”
“For dinnertime you can eat marshmallows and chocolate piled high,” he sang, and extolled the virtues of broccoli and spinach as treats. Because, wouldn’t they be? If our every meal was loaded with sugar?
The song “I Don’t Like to Share,” contains the line “I know it ain’t fair, but I don’t care, cuz I don’t like to share.” These aren’t songs preaching the value of sharing. They are songs identifying with the emotions of their audience, just like every damned rock ‘n roll song we fall in love with. This is rock ‘n roll with honesty, with it’s audience fully in mind.
After the set, I made my way backstage and stood quietly by while Peter greeted his fans, hopping, excited kids and their smiling parents, who must have been so thrilled to have found music that they could stand listening to in the car, keeping both themselves and their children happy. I introduced myself, and Peter asked me to wait, all the while keeping his eye on me to make sure I knew he hadn’t forgotten me, while taking time to talk with the kids who had enjoyed his show. I just stood there like a fool, smiling, so happy to have been introduced to this part of his persona. I’ve been listening to his “adult” music for years, but this kids’ music of his was new to me–I knew it existed, but hadn’t paid attention (a huge disservice to myself AND to my kids).
And then a golf cart pulled up, we piled on and sped off, our interview taking place on the way.
We chatted about his new “adult” album that came out in July (review coming soon!), and I asked him, “I’m really interested to see the documentary included with the album. There was a quote on your website that said it was about the wisdom of schlepping an adolescent dream into midlife. I’m doing that myself. So tell me…is it worth it?”
Peter laughed, and nodded, and said, “It was a good idea…yes. All in all it’s been nice.. fruitful. So much experience…it’s been great.” Because you know what? Life is too short to give up on what you dreamed when you were young. And it’s so long…you have plenty of time to make it all come true.
“What’s the difference,” I asked, “as a performer, in appearing for an audience of children versus an audience of adults?”
“When I play for the kids, I also play for the adults. There’s some things I’ll say to adults that I would never say to kids. It’s much harder to play for kids–they give very little back. It’s a different energy–it takes a lot more energy to play for kids–to keep them engaged and listening. It’s good training for playing for adults. Kids demand more.”
“The songs themselves…the lyrics are different, more specific to kids, but the music itself…it’s still rock n’ roll. Is there any crossover, in your head when you’re writing and/or performing?”
“Certain chords,” Peter said, “I don’t play a lot of minor chords…I keep things a little happier.”
And with that we descended into talk about where he was going from there, to his hotel and then up to Highland Park to visit with friends, and I realized, quite distinctly, that from the moment I’d met him, my nervousness had vanished. This man, who I’d come to revere as a musician from listening to him on XRT and picking up his CDs, was a man, who connects with children as well as he connects with adults, and, at least in my few moments with him, seems to take every one of those connections as they come and to give them what he has to give right at that moment.
And yes, it’s possible to learn more from one brief meeting than one might learn from a lifetime with a person.
Thank you for sharing yourself with me and with all those who love music, Peter.
I’m trying to get my shit together on these Lollapalooza articles.
Here’s the first two that I posted to Newsvine earlier this week. The rest will follow.
Dr. Frank Fennel and his lovely wife Sheila make the big time. Sorta. And yes, that’s Perez Hilton, media whore, holding the Newsvine rubber chickens.
I have received an emailed directive from Megan:
stop what you are doing and blog something right now.
So, here goes:
I’ve been busy as hell. I got the job I was trying to get, and you are now reading the words of the new part-time Telecommunications Operator for a suburban Chicago town, the town in which I went to high school.
Yep, that’s right. When a bunch of teenagers are falling all over themselves, drunk, peeing on lawns, tossing recyclables around in the street, beating each other up in parks, etc., and someone calls up to report it to the police, I’m the one who answers the phone and sends out the officers.
I am a dispatcher. I also take the 911 calls and reports of accidents and thefts and frauds and fires and all that stuff. It’s a little crazy. The job is perfect for me, although several times when I’ve told people about it, the get a quizzical look on their face and say, “Really?” But do you have any idea the kinds of material I’m accumulating? Not just about the people who call for help or assistance, but the officers? Police officers are insane! In a good way, of course.
So, I’m still in training and really enjoying it, but I’m still trying to figure out how to have a job and still do all the things I need to do in a day.
The other thing taking up all my time is Newsvine. I’m totally addicted. I love it. I spend entirely too much time there and need to back off. I keep telling myself to publish everything I write over there over here, too, but many times people here wouldn’t know what the hell I’m talking about, so I don’t.
That’ll change in the upcoming weeks, however, because my Lollapalooza coverage will appear both there and here. And I’m getting really excited for it. I’ve got interviews lined up with Ben Harper (Ben Harper!), G. Love and Special Sauce, Peter Himmelman, and a few others. I’m waiting for confirmation on interviews with a few other bands, and I’m hoping still to land some of the bigger acts like Pearl Jam, Iggy Pop, Patty Smith, Muse, My Morning Jacket, etc.
I’ll also be covering a few of the side-events. There’s some kind of acoustic brunch going on which I’ll be attending Saturday morning, and I’ve just sent off an application for press credentials to an after-party music lounge kind of thing as well. I’ll let you know how that works out.
I want to cover absolutely ever facet of Lollapalooza that I possibly can. Without going insane. Good luck to me, right?
Over at Newsvine, though, I’m spending a lot of my time trying to encourage people to write more, write better, and view themselves as journalists. I just started a group devoted to covering protests around the world, and I’m encouraging others to go to protests and get the story, and post them at Newsvine. So far so good.
So, I’ve stretched myself a little thin here, but it’s all such good stuff, I can’t complain, and I’m enjoying every minute of it.
I think when Megan requested that I stop what I’m doing and write on my blog, she was hoping for a babble. And while the above could certainly be called babbling, it’s not my standard offering. So. Hmmm. What can I babble about?
I know! People who call the police for really random and ridiculous things!
For instance, the woman who recently called the general number and said, “Yes, I have a problem.”
“What’s the problem, ma’am?” I asked.
“Well, you know that nail salon that just opened up in town?” she asked.
Now, here, I’m expecting her to say that she’d forgotten to take the money to pay out of her wallet before getting her nails done, and had asked the manicurist to get it out for her, and the manicurist then stole all her money, or maybe they injured her in some way, or there were rats running around, or something, anything, criminal.
“Yes?”
“Well, I don’t know the name of it, so I can’t get the phone number.”
I paused for a moment, slightly confused. “Well, how can I help you?”
“Can you get the number for me?”
Now, since I’m new on the job, and even if I weren’t, it would be inappropriate to do so, I did not say what I would have liked to say, which was “Are you SERIOUSLY calling the FUCKING police department to ask for the PHONE NUMBER of the new NAIL SALON IN TOWN? Lady? Seriously?”
Instead, I said, “Well, no…”
“I figured the police department would have a list of all the businesses in town,” she said.
“Well, we do, in a way, but I don’t know the name of the salon either, so…”
“Well, what should I do?” she asked, slightly distraught.
“You know what I suggest, ma’am? It’s a beautiful day. Why not take a walk into town and check it out? Last time I drove through, I don’t even think they had a sign up, so you might have to go in. Or, you could drive up.”
I said this very sweetly, without the slightest note of sarcasm in my voice. Really. I did.
Her response? “Oh. Thanks.” Irritated! She was mad that the police department couldn’t provide for her the name and phone number for a nail salon in town! WTF is that? I would have liked to have said, “Yes, ma’am, I have it right here on speed-dial. Would you like me to connect you? Or, would you like me to call up and set up an appointment for you? And then send an officer to pick you up and deliver you to the salon and rub your stupid, lazy feet while you get your goddamn nails painted? Because we are a SERVICE-ORIENTED department, ma’am, and there’s nothing we love more than to cater to the every whim of the spoiled, snotty asshats who live in this town, and I’ll tell you, if you’re not a prime example of a spoiled, snotty asshat, then I don’t know who is!”
But of course, I didn’t say that.
How’s that, Meggy?
Check it out. The comment thread got ugly, but that’s not entirely my fault.
Another day, another swim meet. Fortunately, this one is at our own pool. Unfortunately, it’s my fucking birthday. Why must I sit at the pool on my birthday watching a swim meet? It must be because I’m such a dedicated mother.
I must admit, I do have a gigantic University of Illinois coffee mug (more like an urn with a handle on it) filled with vodka coffee! Of course! It’s coffee! Why wouldn’t it be? I had high hopes, because our town has free public wifi installed along the train tracks, and I was hoping that it would reach here at the pool. I was wrong. Oh well. So, I’ll write this babble, which I owe to my blog and my wonderful, unbelievably dedicated and loyal readers, while I’m sitting here. I came a little late, and because of that, I have absolutely no idea what event we’re on. Grace has event 25, 55, and 65. If you’re familiar with how swim meets work, you know that means I’ll be here until the end of time. If you’re not familiar with swim meets, count yourself lucky. They’re almost as bad as wrestling meets, only one is not required to spend several hours stuck inside a sweaty, stinky gym.
A couple of really smart people brought blankets. I, however, am not that smart. I’m dressed warmly, but I do not have a blanket. If I had brought a blanket, I would be asleep right now. And that wouldn’t be cool.
So, what’s up with me? Well, my first article for the local paper, reporting on our “Gathering on the Green” appeared in yesterday’s paper. That was extremely exciting. As of earlier this afternoon, it was not yet up on the website, but I’ll be sure to update you when it is, because of course you want to read it, even though it was edited in such a way as to make my first few paragraphs not make much sense. I guess I’ll have to get used to that.
I might have to push that woman sitting a couple feet away from me off her chair and steal her blanket. It’s every woman for herself at this point.
I’m starting a new job soon. It’s actually going to be the first real job I’ve had in about 12 years, so it’s somewhat exciting. What’s also exciting is that I passed several tests, an interview, a psychological assessment, a physical including a drug test, and a background check in order to get this job. I will be starting next week, Thursday, the day after Independence Day (fitting, no? And cruel?) as a part-time “Police Telecommunications Operator” in a neighboring town. Yep. I’ll be a dispatcher. For the town in which I attended high school. I’m guessing their background check wasn’t super thorough, or else didn’t go very deep, or else didn’t bother to dive into their own files, because I’ve seen the inside of that police station, and at the time, I was most certainly not going to get paid to do it. In fact, I distinctly remember my name being called and being led into the dispatcher’s room, with the big old bullet-proof window, a police officer pointing to my father and saying, “Is that your father?” I remember looking at the man standing there, emanating hot anger, his eyeballs ’bout ready to pop from his head, his fists clenched, and considering saying, “Uh, no. I’ve never seen that man before in my life!” And being glad I hadn’t when the next question was “Are you comfortable going home with him?”
Side note: When I was younger, well, actually, it’s still there but I haven’t had to sit on it in a loooong time, my father, when I or one of my brothers were in trouble, would invite us into his den, a place we NEVER went unless we were in trouble, and tell us to sit on the couch. My dad had this thing (and he admitted to much that night he picked me up from the police station) where he would yell and scream about just about anything, but when he was really angry, he was very very quiet. That night, he spoke very quietly. I think I was grounded for about six years.
Anyway, Grace is about to swim the 50 fly, so I need to go scream my head off. It’ll warm me up. Be right back.
Okay, well, not so good. Butterfly is not her stroke.
That makes me think of a little story from the meet last week. Grace’s last event was a relay, and she was on a team with a young woman who uses a wheelchair. I don’t know how well her legs work, but I’m pretty certain she swims with mostly upper body strength. One of the girls who was slated to be on their team didn’t show up that night, so Grace volunteered to swim the first and the last leg. By that time, she was beat. She’d been at practice earlier in the day and had swum an hour of laps, had spent most of the day at the pool playing with her friends, and had swum two events in the meet already. She swam her first leg, and then stood by the side of the pool screaming her teammates on. The disabled girl, who swam second, came in about the same time as the opponents were swimming their third. Grace was right there at the edge of the pool, waiting to slap her five and yelled, enthusiastically and with all her heart, “Great job, we’re doin’ it, excellent!” And then she ended up swimming the whole fourth leg alone. I was all teary-eyed over it myself, just so proud of her for volunteering, when she was tired as hell, to swim two legs, and also because she was just fully enthusiastic about swimming, period. I don’t even think she comprehends the competitive aspect of it. She was delighted to check her folder a couple of days later and find two blue ribbons. And she was more focused on her own team members than anything else. I don’t even think it occurred to her, in any way, that the disabled girl on her team would bring down her time. She simply didn’t care.
One of those proud-as-hell moments, for sure. My kids are better people than I am, for sure.
Could someone come over here and grab my cup and make me a fresh vodka tonic? coffee with cream and sugar? Thanks.
I could use a cigarette.
I’ve published an interview I did with one of the people who commented on that ancient “men in diapers” post I did nearly two years ago, on Newsvine. I’ll repost it here when I get home. It’s pretty, um, interesting.
Also interesting is something, but in the time since I typed the words “also interesting” and the time I resumed typing, because I had to call my husband and have a conversation with a neighbor, I forgot what it was that was also interesting. Oh well.
You know what’s annoying? I have to pee. Have you ever peed in the bathroom of a public-ish pool? It’s, um, a damp experience, to say the least.
I don’t know what’s going on here, but in the last week, I’ve received the Lollapalooza press pass, word that I’m pretty much a shoe-in for this job I’ve been applying for (I’ll tell you about that when it’s official), and now the opportunity to freelance for my local paper. In addition to all that, it looks like a portion of my novel might get published.
Right now, I’m dancing around in my chair, no shit. The sun is somehow shining on my head, even though I’m inside. I don’t know what I did to deserve all this goodness. Maybe it’s because I’m so goddamn FANTASTIC!!!!!!!
