Monday, January 21, 2008

2007 Wrap!

Here it is, kids, your complete 2007 year-in-the-life-of-Bree. But before you start, do check out my last four years right here:

2006
2005
2004
2003

The Stuff that Happened in '07:


* Astrid and I shacked up! This is a feat that occurred not without considerable angst on both our parts, given our respective histories of living with, and in my case, almost living with previous sweeties.

We're both pretty amazed and grateful that it's working as well as it is. We had a kick-ass housewarming party in March, and thus began our Alter to the Weird mantel installation. February '08 marks a year of living in sin!

* I started interviewing for clinical internships. I ended up applying to two really competitive places in the City that rejected me outright without a chance to interview. I also applied to work in the bereavement department at a hospice, doing short-term grief therapy with people who have recently lost loved ones. I had a killer interview (oof, no pun intended), and really hit it off with the director of the program, but they were too pokey about getting back to me, 'cause, as I was told later, they were holding out for someone a bit older if possible. Meanwhile, I interviewed at a fourth place, an LGBT mental health clinic, and ended up accepting a position there.

* Road-tripped down the coast for spring break. With our bikes tied to the back of the Astridmobile, the gf and I wound slowly 'round the coastal mountains, camped in Big Sur and biked through the wine country outside of Solvang. We bought some amazing chardonnay and pinot noir there and had a visit with some regal ostriches.

Moving further south, we did a great bike loop in Goleta through the UCSB campus, and then drove east to visit Astrid's family in the Mohave desert for Easter.

* My cousin Andrew died, tragically, horribly, wrongly. I’ve blogged about this before, so I won't belabor the point. I miss him. Everything else I will report about the year seems trifling in comparison, but it's the trifling matters that keep us sane, I guess.

* Astrid and I bought a couch!

* We wasted lots of time playing Dr. Mario on Astrid's old Nintendo 64 and watching back-to-back episodes of Buffy and Angel.

* I fucking finished my first year of grad school! I've immensely enjoyed being a student again, showing off my geeky chops, and using parts of my brain that had atrophied significantly over the last near-decade being a bean-counter. I've also learned a ton from my classmates and have made some really good pals. I would say, though, that I have mixed reviews on the whole about the hippy-dippy liberal arts college I chose. After two years at an institution that bounces student loan checks, hires mediocre instructors, and has been on WASC probation and on the brink of losing accreditation, I can't say I'd make the same choice again.

* Went on a camping trip at the Russian River. Highlights: swimmin' with the tadpoles, wine tasting, making killer aloo gobi over the campfire, snuggling with Ms. Astrid in the cozy tent.



*I rediscovered backgammon, a game I hadn't played in probably twenty years, and learned how to play dominoes, though I kind of suck.

* I resigned from my bookkeeping jobs!!! As of July of 2007, I turned in the ol' abacus and haven't looked back.

* I started my internship and began to work with my first psychotherapy clients. It's been an intense and humbling transition into this new work. I still have pretty much no idea what I'm doing, but the learning is really magical, and fucking hard, man.

* Astrid and I started taking ballroom dance lessons! We've learned a little rumba, swing (West Coast, East Coast, Lindy Hop, Charleston), and dabbled with some tango and foxtrot.

I hope as school mellows out, I'll be able to dance much more often with Astrid, 'cause she is, amazingly, even more radiant when spinning on a dance floor, shining that ecstatic smile at me.

* I avoided writing my thesis. Majorly. But as of this writing, the first draft (a drafty draft, indeed) has been handed in.

The Annual Pop/Culture Reviews:


Many of you know my trusty two-pronged rating system by now. If not, here's the method-in-madness:

1. The Star System - to convey my idea of the "objective merit" of a piece of work (i.e. if I were a professional critic, these are the ratings I'd give the thing). Wherein…

zero stars = abysmal
* = meh
** = average
*** = respectable
**** = outstanding
***** = incomparable

2. Ranked-order – For each category, I will order from top to bottom, indicating the read, flick, or show I enjoyed the most to the least in that section. The way I rank shit may or may not correlate with the cultural zeitgeist (it often doesn't). This is how I can get away with ranking, say, Barbarella (**1⁄2) over the four-star Taxi Driver.



Capiche? Okay, onward!

The Books I Read in '07:



The Denial of Death by Ernest Becker **** (1973) – the book that inspired my thesis topic, Becker's influential Pulitzer winner rewrites psychoanalytic theory from an existential perspective, posing that the basic anxiety facing humanity is the terror of death. From this point of departure, Becker considers the psychological and philosophical explanations that connect basic character structure and psychopathology to the death anxiety. Highly recommended for all you cerebral types or anyone interested in death studies, existential philosophy, and critique of psychoanalysis. I mark it down from five stars because of Becker's dated take on the nature of homosexuality (this book was written before the psychiatric establishment changed its official stance on queerness as pathology) and also for Becker's insistence on a spiritual answer to the basic problem of death anxiety, lauding Christianity in particular. I think it's an annoyingly culture-bound conclusion to this otherwise extraordinary book.

Nerds 2.0.1.: A Brief History of the Internet by Stephen Segaller ***1/2 (1998)



- One of those street-sale scores, Astrid and I picked up this book quite randomly while on our way to eat a bowl of clam chowder, as I remember. I couldn't resist buying it when I read the ballpoint inscription in the front leaf (all in caps, mind you) "TO SOMEONE WHO WILL NEVER BE ONE…LOVE, MOM & DAD, 12/99." Ah, the blissful ignorance of well-meaning parents who don't understand that the geek identity has been firmly reclaimed. The book provides an overview of the history of the construction of the internet, from its modest bureaucratic beginnings at the Pentagon in the '60s to the era of microcomputing and commercialization of the web. Importantly, the author tells the story in a way simpletons like me can understand. Since the book and accompanying PBS documentary were produced in 1998, you can imagine how much of the story had yet to unfold. In this sense, it's as dated as Adam Sandler's hair in The Wedding Singer. But if you're a non-geek and curious about what the hell "packet switching" is and interested to hear about the launch of ALOHAnet, the first wireless computer network (all the way back in 1970!!) this is a really relaxed and educational read.

Anal Pleasure and Health by Jack Morin ****½ (1998, revised 3rd ed.) This is the ultimate Butt Bible, the most straight-forward and least embarrassing tome you can own that can help you find the way to digestive and anal-muscular health and pain-free anal exploration. Pick this book up if you want to reduce anal tension, become less freaked out about anal functions, increase your overall wellness, and get more enjoyment out of playing with your arse. The very small critique I would offer is that Morin's book gives very little attention to women who have sex with women (wsw).

His small research sample had very few lesbians/wsw, and I would love to see a book that included more discussion of anal sexuality among dykes. That said, the language in this 3rd edition is inclusive and widely applicable to people of all genders and sexualities, as well as to people who are interested in anal health more generally and not as drawn to the topic of sexual exploration.

Mortified ***1/2 (2006) edited by David Nadelberg. Mortified, the book, is an anthology of hits from the live shows of the same name, which happen regularly in New York, LA, Boston, San Francisco, and Chicago. The premise is simple: adults read their childhood and teenage diaries, letters, awful poetry, and other real-life angsty accounts, verbatim, in front of a live, frenetically laughing audience. "Mortified" has become quite a phenomenon, producing this book, and a forthcoming sequel (Mortified 2: Love is a Battlefield, due out this winter), as well as a host of merch and related video clips. To get a feel for the "Mortified" oeuvre, check out this pathetically hilarious story by Will Nolan, I Hate Drake.



Immaterial Facts: Freud's Discovery of Psychic Reality and Klein's Development of His Work **** (1988) by Robert Caper. One of the assigned readings for my Advanced Psychotherapy Techniques class, this book is a real gem, because it explains, in comprehensible prose, the context and timeline of Freud's theories and the clarification and modification of his work by Melanie Klein. This could be an enjoyable read for psych students and laypeople alike, though if you're unfamiliar with psychoanalytic theory, you might want to refer to other sources to help with the terminology. Try the allpsych dictionary as a companion reading.

Bicycling the Pacific Coast **** (2005, 4th ed.) Thorough and well organized guide to biking from Vancouver, B.C. to the California-Mexico border. We used this book extensively on our springtime car/bike trip down the coast. Full of easy-to-navigate maps, points of interest, hostel and campground info, and detailed route descriptions. Applicable for both novice and skilled cyclists.

Strangers In Paradise, Volume 3 **1/2 by Terry Moore. I enjoyed the third volume, but not nearly as much as the first two. I must trudge forward with the series once I'm done with all this thesis nonsense.

Yiddish with Dick and Jane ***, by Ellis Weiner and Barbara Davilman, with illustrations by Gabi Payn. Pretty funny parody of the old D&J primers, with a Yiddish flare and contemporary irony. Check out the abbreviated and quite clever YouTube version.

Films on the Big Screen:



No Country for Old Men ***** (2007) The Cohen Brothers' latest is certainly the best movie I've seen in some time, and the only new movie I've given five stars since Dirty Pretty Things back in 2003. No Country is the kind of movie you could put in a time capsule for people to dig up a hundred years from now so they might truly know America, in its arid beauty and its (masculine) antisocial violence. Amazing cinematography, performances, plot development, pacing, and a haunting simplicity that subtly masks the layers of meaning within. Check out Rocchi's review at Cinematical for a more thorough discussion. My only criticism is that the story, like so many other films (and the book it's based on), is concerned solely with the male experience and gives very little attention to the women whose lives are impacted by the narrative. I won't detract any stars for this, but I'm noting it because I really do want to see more films this brilliant about women's lives.

Pan's Labyrinth **** (2006) - beautiful fantasy by Mexican director Guillermo Del Toro in which a young girl splits her time between the enclave of her fascist general stepfather in Franco-era Spain and the magical, and sometimes just as dangerous, underworld of the labyrinth.

Little Darlings ***½ (1980) - revival at the Castro. Anyone who knows me is aware of my Little Darlings fixation. Seeing it at the Castro was fucking awesome.

Pump Up The Volume ***1/2 (1990) – revival at the Castro. Also a treat to see on the big screen, the energy and spirit of this movie hold up over time, as does Christian Slater's performance. The pseudo-philosophic-politico rants are fluffy and vague, but this is as radical as Hollywood gets, I guess. And, um, the rooftop make-out scene with Samantha Mathis: hot, hot, hot!

Margot at the Wedding ***½ (2007)

Noah Baumbach's latest film starring Nicole Kidman, Jennifer Jason Leigh (who I adore), and Jack Black.

Bleak and depressing in not nearly the clever and ultimately redemptive way that Squid was. The plot is weak relative to the rich character development that reveals the players' sympathetic sides just to the point that you can embrace them despite how self-absorbed and embarrassing they are. The performances are strong all around, and the dialogue is a solid B+, but I wish Baumbach would concern himself with a world beyond the idiosyncrasies of the East Coast intelligentsia.

"In mainstream movies the woman's role is mostly just to prove that the leading man is heterosexual. I'm not good at that, and I'm not interested in that." -Jennifer Jason Leigh

Citizen Kane ****½ (1941) - revival at the Castro. After seeing Citizen Kane again, for the first time on the big screen, I must admit that it wasn't quite as extraordinary as I'd previously felt. The visual mastery, innovative plot devices, and prescient political commentary are still truly captivating, and Orson Welles' performance is magnificent, one of the all-time best. My only critique is the other performances, which on the whole, were schmaltzy even giving allowance for the staginess so often present in films of the era.

Sicko *** (2007) - Michael Moore's latest documentary about the shitty American health care system. Depressing, as would be expected, given the subject matter. Full of fascinating international comparisons, from Paris to Cuba. Unfortunately also full of Michael Moore's usual heavy-handed narration which presumes the audience to be incapable of formulating its own opinions. Bless him for cracking open the glass ceiling on documentary, but here's hoping that someday he branches out stylistically.

Footloose **1/2 (1984) – revival at the Castro (double-feature with Pump Up The Volume). The less satisfying of the two movies, but full of fun 80s popculty nostalgia and deliciously over-the-top melodrama.

Sixteen Candles **1/2 (1984) – revival at Dolores Park. I think this teen angst flick from the John Hughes oeuvre is plainly classic, with highlights including paying a buck to see Molly Ringwald's underpants in the boy's bathroom, the jock-strap donning nerds, Jake and Caroline dancing to "True" by Spandau Ballet.

But the cheap racist/sexist humor tarnishes this movie substantially. Here's some commentary generated from the screening at Dolores Park this summer, concerning the depiction of Long Duck Dong, played by Gedde Watanabe. People don't seem to get as visibly upset about the sexism as they do about the racist caricatures, but it pisses me off every time I see the scene after the party, when Jake tells Farmer Ted "I could violate (a passed out Caroline) ten different ways if I wanted to." Overall, kind of painful to re-watch. And seeing this movie at Dolores Park, while a nice idea, was logistically awful: the park was so crowded, there was no way of getting an undisturbed view of the screen, and the sound was even worse.

For the Bible Tells Me So **1/2 (2007) – a documentary about how Christians should tolerate milquetoasty gays because we're just like everybody else. I would recommend the film to moderate/liberal Christian folks who want to ignite their own inclusive activism, but I think other documentaries that address homophobia and LGBT culture do a much better job at portraying more realistic and diverse images of queers. This one speaks to a very narrow margin of religious people who are already open-minded: in more cliché words, it's preaching to the choir.

TV shows on DVD
Which last year was dominated by a certain vampire slayer…

Buffy the Vampire Slayer – Season One ***, Season Two ****, Season Three ****, Season Four **½ , Season Five ****, Season Six *****, Season Seven ***½

Angel - Season One***, Season Two****, Season Three*****, Season Four **

What can I say about the Buffyverse and how much it's impacted my life in 2007? After watching nearly the whole of two series' worth of episodes, totaling some two hundred hours of DVD viewing, all the while in grad school getting my masters degree, you might say I've double majored in psychology and Buffyology. I seriously considered incorporating aspects from Buffy into my thesis, but it's a bit late for that. But needless to say, the themes in the series, specifically about death and destruction and love in the face of death, are some of what has gotten me so severely addicted.

Here are some good Buffyverse links, which are, naturally, full of spoilers. I've had to be vary sparing in my internet snooping about Buffy til recently, so I haven't explored these sites very thoroughly. Here are my impressions of some of 'em:

Buffycritic.Com

If you can suffer through the annoying pop-up ads, this site is a great all-around resource for Buffy/Angel fandom. It has summaries and intelligent reviews of the episodes by season, with ratings broken down into dramatic and comedic elements, as well as for how well the episode moved the story arc.

Much Ado About Buffy the Vampire Slayer

One of the only decently designed sites on general Buffy/Angel interest, as well as one of the only sites that has recent content (many fansites stopped growing after the shows wrapped in 2003/2004.) The cast/character page has adorable clickable avatars of all the major and recurring characters.

All Things Philosophical on Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel: The Series

Ginormous amount of psycho/philosophical babble about all aspects of the 'verse, including character motivations, moral ambiguities, good vs. evil, the various theories of philosophy represented in the series, discussion boards, etc.

Above the Law: Asking Questions of Mythos, Metaphysics, and Morality in Buffy the Vampire Slayer

A message board about various themes in the 'verse. Pretty dated, but cool to see fans posting their thoughts, excitements, and gripes in real-time while the series ran.

Documentaries on DVD

An Inconvenient Truth **** (2006) – the Al Gore documentary on global warming. If you haven't seen it, please do. While the narrative style (much like Al Gore himself) is a bit dry, the information presented really speaks for itself, powerfully. And please stop driving so fucking much, okay? That is all.

The right-wingers want you to believe this is a "natural" phenomenon that has nothing to do with industrialization and pollution.

The Celluloid Closet **** (1995; rerun) - Anyone who’s interested in film history, not just queer history, should see this documentary based on the book of the same title by Vito Russo. Both the book and the film detail Hollywood from the Silent era on through the first films in the '80s that presented a positive queer point of view. The film discusses how the "anti-obscenity" Motion Picture Production Code of 1930 drove queer themes underground and created a lasting legacy of cinematic invisibility at best and films filled with violent homophobia at worst. Really great interviews with Susan Sarandon in particular, as well as Tony Curtis, Arthur Laurents, Harvey Fierstein and more. Narrated by the amazing Lily Tomlin.



Word Play **** (2006) – highly enjoyable documentary on the mighty crossword puzzle: the people who create them and the people who go slightly mad solving them.

John Stewart rocks the crossweird.

Before Stonewall **** (1984) – pioneering documentary about LGBT political and cultural history for the decades preceding the Stonewall Riots, the explosive starting point of the contemporary Gay Liberation Movement. Wonderful interview footage of Harry Hay, Audre Lorde, Allen Ginsberg, and many more movers of GLBT liberation.

Jesus Camp ***1/2 (2006) – after seeing this film, discussing it with friends, and reading a decent amount of commentary about it, I'm still perplexed by it. The film's images and scenarios, played out candidly by avidly churchy children (whose beliefs seem dangerously concrete) still chill me, months after seeing it (earnest tears as they pledge allegiance to god's army, for example). What's most disturbing about it is the hands-off style of filmmaking, allowing the point of view of the filmmakers to be left ambiguous, with the exception of footage of an ex-right wing radio commentator given the floor periodically during the film's run. One of the most thoughtful reviews of the movie I've seen comes from David Byrne's blog. Have a look.

The U.S. Vs. John Lennon *** (2006) – Doc about John Lennon's anti-war and civil rights activism, primarily centered around his battle with the INS over deportation after marijuana possession charges in the early '70s. I found it enjoyable but not very enlightening, full of great personal footage and interviews but lacking in depth about much, be it his activism or his turbulent personal struggles. The editor at Ebert's page hits it on the head.

After Stonewall *** (1999) – the follow up to Before Stonewall. Worth seeing, as it documents the GLBT rights movement post Gay-Lib and focuses on the impact of AIDS/HIV on the community. Not nearly as well made or memorable as the first film.

Sigmund Freud: Analysis of a Mind ** A&E "Biography" episode about Freud's life and major works, which is overall not terribly revealing and remains theoretically very shallow. The only interesting footage comes in the two interviews with Freud's grandchildren. When dealing with one of the largest personalities of the 20th Century, and particularly with Freud, the ultimate narcissist, it is truly moving to hear a grandson's recollection of his grandfather's jaw cancer, and how Freud was in so much pain from his illness and some 30 surgeries that after a point, his lap just wasn't for sitting upon anymore.

Siggy in his 30s

Narrative Films on DVD




Punch Drunk Love **** (2002; rerun) – it took this second viewing of the movie to make me realize that it's possibly one of my all-time favorites. If you've never seen an Adam Sandler flick you've liked (and I wouldn't blame you), remember that this is not an "Adam Sandler movie" – it's a P.T. Anderson masterpiece.

The Big Lebowski **** (1998; rerun) - I’m finally beginning to understand the brilliance of this movie. It's also amazing to think about the breadth of the work of Joel and Ethan Cohen as filmmakers – that they are capable of such searing pop culture satire and also such rich dramatic tension, and that most of their movies contain strong elements of both, so that you can't put any of their films into one box or another.

A Scanner Darkly **** (2006) – I've never read Phillip K. Dick's novel, so I can't compare it here, but the animated film by Richard Linklater works beautifully. I was skeptical about Scanner at first, because I felt his earlier attempt at an animated feature, Waking Life, to be a long-winded regurgitation of the philosophical musings of the far superior Slacker.

And while I love Slacker, A Scanner Darkly accomplishes something that none of Linklater's films have before: its eerie emotional resonance lingers after viewing. It's not unlike the feeling of frantically scratching to rid oneself from the itch of the hallucinatory bugs of substance withdrawal, álà the movie's first sequence. This owes to the rich source material for the film, which expands Linklater beyond his usual micro personal milieu.

Stranger Than Fiction ***1/2 (2006) – I liked this Will Ferrell/Maggie Gyllenhaal flick a mite better than I thought I would. If you liked the thematically similar The Truman Show and the similar fiction-writing milieu of Adaptation, give this one a go. I'd say it's almost on par with the former, not as literary as the latter, and overall, a bit less challenging and neater/tidier than either.



The Princess Bride ***1/2 (1987; rerun) – I had only seen it once back in the day, and I decided to pop it in recently, since Astrid owns the disc. It holds up, for sure, especially the fantastic chemistry between Inigo Montoya (I had no idea that was Mandy Patinkin!) and Fezzik (Andre the Giant). There's a lot of snoozy parts, but certainly it's worth seeing again if it's been fifteen or twenty years since your last viewing. The one-liners alone ("…Anybody want a peanut?" "Have fun storming the castle!" et al) are quite satisfying when taken out of the popcultural ether and put back in the context of the movie.

Volver ***½ (2006) – It's wonderful to see a solid film about the emotional lives of women. But I felt similarly about The Hours: instead of "solid," or "very good," it'd be nice to see an excellent one for a change. And ah, those whimsical farting ghosts…

Conversation(s) with Other Women *** (2005) – I liked this talky film with Helena Bonham Carter and Aaron Eckhart. The performances were great, but the writing, and thus the emotion, fell flat often. The entire movie is rendered in split screen, and while distracting at times, this device was used to good effect to convey the different POVs of the two characters, as well as visually to invoke the possibilities of the past and future.

Primer *** (2004) Really fascinating and disturbing movie. I was left with two distinct feelings at the end: I was moved, and yet I didn't know what the fuck had happened. Here's some guy's understanding of the timeline of the movie, which considers both on-screen action and off-screen events that influence the plot.

The Science of Sleep *** (2006) – an imaginative romp and a pretty film to look at, with pretty leads (Gael Garcia Bernal and Charlotte Gainsbourg) to boot, but ultimately a film more memorable for its crafty visual effects than the somnambulant solipsism of its story.

Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home *** (2006) The members of the Enterprise prevent the destruction of Earth by going back in time to save the humpback whales. Campy hilarity ensues.

Quinceañera *** (2006) A 15 year old Latina and her family deal with a mysterious pregnancy and the struggle to live amid the gentrification in their LA neighborhood. Good performances and a promising story, but the narrative could have used some significant changes. Jesse Garcia and Emily Rios in Quinceañera

Shortbus **1/2 (2006) - both better than I expected it to be, and not as good as I wanted it to be. Lots of sex – woot! Pretentious people – woot! A couple of the subplots are interesting and realistically portrayed, but this is a pretty disappointing follow-up to Hedwig.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer ** (1992) - the original movie that spawned the far superior TV show. The premise, of course, is fantastic: an airhead cheerleader at a Los Angeles high school learns her destiny as the Vampire Slayer. The execution, however, save for bits of campy goodness, stinks. How in sam hell did they get Donald Sutherland to be in this piece of shit movie?

Singles **1/2 (1992) – I'd never seen it before, if you can believe it. It was not as good as I thought it would be, and I don't have an explanation as to why I thought it'd be good. Campbell Scott is always good. Matt Dillon was pretty good. I kind of wished that Bridget Fonda's character had been played by Parker Posey instead; maybe then I'da given the flick three whole stars.

Love and Death **1/2 (1975) – by far not my favorite Woody Allen movie. (Can you tell I'm kind of tired of writing reviews now?)

Dead Silence * (2007) – you can't ask for much from a possessed dummy movie, though it was great fun watching it with a group of ornery folks while DJ pointed out the holes in the plot.

"Beware the stare of Mary Shaw, she has no children, only dolls," the inane refrain refrains.

Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan ** (2006) – for a good summary of my thoughts, see a review of this overrated piece of crap.

Star Trek V: The Final Frontier * The one with the super-cheesy "God"-creature floating around in the deepest reaches of space, beyond the "Great Barrier." This is where my commitment to the Star Trek movies ends.

The Playlist


In which I talk about the new (which is sometimes quite old) music in my life!

Sloan: Never Hear the End of It **** (2006)

I've been totally obsessed with this album for months, with its 30 songs worth of catchy, rollicking good tunes. All four band members (Chris Murphy, Jay Ferguson, Patrick Pentland, and Andrew Scott) contributed tracks, each with his unique flavor. With this record, Sloan runs the gamut from memorable Beatlesesque ditties to moody, airy tracks álà Grandaddy, and never loses their particular combo-punch of clever indie plus good old fashioned guitar crunch rock 'n' roll. What's best about this album is that the tuneful ballads, blasts of hard core, and quirky psychedelia all flow together beautifully with seamless track mixing and careful balancing of each of the songwriter's numbers.

The Mountain Goats: Get Lonely **** (2006) – I would say of the two Mountain Goats albums I acquired in 2007, Get Lonely just slightly edges out The Sunset Tree, with its subtle, small songs about love lost and losing yourself in the face of it. Several of the songs on the album make me cry routinely, like this one:



The Mountain Goats: The Sunset Tree **** (2005) – Like all of John Darnielle's lyrics, these are utterly earnest without losing their affecting emotionality. "This Year" might be one of my top 5 favorite songs of all time.

The Kinks: The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society **** (1968)

- an album I've been meaning to get for a few years now, as it's been referred to as influential to some acts I really like (Belle and Sebastian and Elliott Smith to name a couple.) Underrated and subdued, it's not the proto- punk of "You Really Got Me" but the reflective nostalgia of the Kink's middle period, with an oft-debated reverence/ironic sarcasm toward simpler times that may or may not have ever existed.

Chumbawamba: Shhh! ***½ (1992) – For the folks out there who have never heard any Chumbawamba besides the dangerously catchy/annoying 1997 single "Tubthumping", it's worth checking out this earlier release which captures more of the spirit of the band.

Despite "Tubthumping's" massive commercial success, the band of lefty anarcho-punk d.i.y.ers, needless to say, have a range and stylings that are much broader and more interesting (i.e. punk, pop, folk, labor songs, dub, hip hop, gospel) showcased playfully on this ode against artist censorship.

King Crimson: In the Court of the Crimson King – An Observation by King Crimson (1969) ***



- I have a passing interest in prog rock, and more than a passing interest in the sociomusical influence of prog on newer forms of music and on pop culture. I'm fascinated, for example, with the prog rock family tree that so many major bands in the '70s and '80s have been connected to. Greg Lake, for example, was one of the original members of King Crimson, and then went on to form Emerson, Lake & Palmer, and then played with the prog supergroup Asia. Anyway, yeah, I'm a rock triv dork.

So this album, the first effort from King Crimson's off and on career that spans nearly 40-years, is considered one of the first progressive albums and possibly the first symphonic rock album, and is a mélange of jazz improv, classical, and acid rock. It's really more a bridge between the Beatles' Mystery Tour era and the later music which would become the "true" prog rock, including many of their own later releases. Track four, "Moonchild Including the Dream and the Illusion," bears more resemblance to experimental jazz than the sweeping tempo changes and rhythmic juxtapositions of progressive rock. Taken out of its natural habitat, a marijuana smoke-filled basement in 1970, say, it's more novelty amusement than epiphany-inducing. Yet the subtle classically-inspired guitar string manipulations and the peaceful encroachment of the mellotron become quite captivating by this point in the album. This early record is not on the whole a good match to my personal musical tastes, but I think I'll be giving King Crimson's later work a go at some point, particularly the Adrian Belew era that has more new wave/Talking-Headsy/proto-electronic stylings.

Billy Bragg: Talking with the Taxman about Poetry *** (1986)

- Billy Bragg's third album represents a shift toward more singable folk-pop, with all the lefty political spirit still intact. In fact, even as he has moved on to much more generously produced music, he's never compromised the politics, the homage to the labor movement, and the grit of his early days. Check out "Greetings to the New Brunette," the standout (and most accessible) track, for a taste of Billy's brand of spirited folksy-rocky-political-

love song. If you want to start with something a bit more contemporary than this often straight-up leftist fight song collection, check out his later release with Wilco, Mermaid Avenue, for which the songsmith was hired by the estate of Woody Guthrie to put the legendary folkie's unpublished manuscripts to music. The results are gorgeous.

Live Shows


Mountain Goats at The Independent 3/7 ***** - Darnielle conveys so much spirit and joy, even when he's singing the most heartbreaking songs. I think if I were a rock star, this is what I'd aspire to: writing songs with meaning; performing them with utmost relish; being low-key enough to publish my photos on flickr.

Sunset Rubdown at The Independent 10/21 ***** - showing up on time really improves the concert experience. One of the best live shows I've ever seen, and this with lead brainchild Spencer Krug feeling a bit under the weather.



The chaotic sound scrapes, evocative vocals, and Spencer's sweat dripping onto the keyboard: concert-going bliss.

Photo of Spencer at the show compliments of The Undertoad.

Sloan at the Independent 4/30 ***1/2 - this would've been a four-star review, 'cause Sloan is always fantastic in concert, but this time they made the audience squirm through about a half-dozen songs with Andrew on lead vocals, and while the guy is a great drummer and a competent songwriter…HE. CANNOT. SING. The songs he wrote and performed on Never Hear the End of It are catchy and short, and his voice in-studio is mixed down enough that it can actually sound decent. Live, he can't keep a tune, really. So anyway, minus Andrew's songs, Sloan rocked the fuck out at the Independent.

They Might Be Giants at The Fillmore 9/30 **** I blogged about this show here.

Indigo Girls at the Power to the Peaceful concert, Golden Gate Park 9/8 ***½



Photo of Indigo Girls compliments of indigospike.

- Back in the day, I was the 1991 cliché of a dyke. I wore tie dyed shirts and Birkenstocks, couldn't go a day without wearing the freedom rings, and listened to the Indigo Girls obsessively. I hadn't seen them live in many years, and it took Iris visiting from Guatemala to get me to go this time around. Her sister-in-law is a complete Indigo Girls freak, and staked out her territory, stage side, starting at 6:00 am that day (loathe to be the random dreadlocked girl to step onto Shirley's tarp!) Sporting proper amounts of hipper-than-thou irony, Iris and I descended into the sage-clouded crowd and ended up pretty blown away. Emily and Amy still know how to fucking rock. Their performance of the Buffy Sainte-Marie cover, "Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee" was as moving this time around, maybe more so, than when I saw them perform it more than a decade ago.

Pinback at Bimbo's 10/27 *** - the band wasn't in top form this time 'round – Zach's voice was just off, cracking like a 13 year old boy's. His guitar playing, as usual, was sublime. Rob held his own, and the instrumentation was trance-inducing, in a really good way.

Sunset Rubdown at the Bottom of the Hill (no rating) 4/22 – this one barely counts, ‘cause Astrid, DJ, and I got there so late we only got to see three songs. They were opening for a really pretentious noise band called Xiu Xiu. Thank god we got to see 'em again later in the year.

On to my 2008 Wrap. Erm, I mean my thesis

xxoo
Bree

Sunday, January 20, 2008

Limbo

So things at my hippy-dippy liberal arts school are not going well. Administrative and financial mismanagement and cronyism, combined with the hiring and firing of several sets of financial aid staff and registrars, have put us into serious trouble with WASC, the regulatory body that can yank our accreditation, as well as the Department of Education, which is indefinitely holding funds to the college. Student loans are going unpaid. Faculty and staff haven't been paid since November. Some of our favorite teachers have resigned 'cause they can't pay their rent. I don't have money to live on til I get my loan disbursement, which was scheduled to come through the first week of January, and now may not get to me til early March, if then. Classes were originally meant to start on January 6, but got pushed back to the 21st and now are on hold til we don't fucking know when.

It's a mite bit stressful, as you can imagine.

Having more time off for winter break than previously planned has been cool (though some spending money would have been nice.) I haven't been able to accomplish all the things I wanted to even with several extra weeks. I've been working on my Year-End Wrap entry, which should be done in the next few days hopefully. That's something, but it's been a slow process. I haven't cleaned my room, my desk piled with tons of paperwork, or the apartment which is a fucking war zone of clutter, dirty dishes, and dust mites. I've gained five or six pounds since the holidays started and can't seem to stop eating everything in sight. I haven't touched my thesis research. I think I've been in a perpetual state of stress and denial about the situation at school, and kind of hoping that I won't be expected to write a thesis if my program ends up getting transferred to another institution willing to take us sorry academic refugees.

Sigh.

Otherwise, life is good, really.

xo
Bree

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Xmas in the Mohave

We're leaving tomorrow to visit Astrid's family for Christmas. She asked me the other day if I'm looking forward to it, and the answer is yes, with the caveat that on some level I'm pretty terrified, too. Astrid's parents have been really sweet to me, considering I'm a Jewish dyke and I'm sleeping with their daughter (who, naturally, is just going through a phase or is disappointed with men or is being seduced by the sinful San Franciscan lifestyle). Her dad and her brother are both men of few words, and even little miss chatty cathy me finds it hard to break on through. Her mom has been genuinely kind to me, and I have no rational reason to think that each subsequent visit won't get better and better. But it's weird, is all. At least her four year-old nephew likes to play zombies with me!

It's weird spending time with anybody else's family, really. Even my idiosyncratic Jewish liberal family in the 'burbs becomes an isolated culture in and of itself: I'm sure it's daunting to be an outsider there when we're all talking over each other in a frenetic storm of popculture/smalltalk/obsessive details of family esoteria. Sigh. Oh, and, we haven't bought any xmas gifts yet. There's that, too.

Merry whatever you celebrate, folks!
Peace and Bliss in the New Year!

xo
Bree

Friday, December 14, 2007

Wraptease

My dear readers,

I am anticipating with much excitement my 2007 Year-End Wrap, to be posted fairly soon. I have at least one or two friends who have mentioned that they, too, look forward to these epic compilations of mine at the beginning of the year, and I fantasize that there are legions of readers waiting with bated breath for the unveiling of my annual installment. Check out the last four right here:

2006
2005
2004
2003

I must say that I absolutely love creating these entries, and feel pretty proud that this will be my fifth consecutive! Recently, I was explaining the process of writing these things to one of my friends, and it reminded me of how anal I actually have to be to pull it off. So to promote the 2007 edition, I thought I'd indulge the anality and give you an idea of what goes into creating Bree's annual year-in-review. I think I will do this in a faux Q & A, as if I were being interviewed by Entertainment Weekly or something.

Entertainment Weekly Bree, who are you wearing right now?
Bree Oh, these old rags? My navy slacks are Dickies workwear, $23.00 from Siegel's in the Mission, and my vee-neck merino wool sweater is Mervyn's house brand.
EW And what about those retro suede sneakers?
B The Adidas are from Merv's, too – on sale at 40 clams.
EW You do your blog on a budget as well, right?
B I ain't made a profit yet.
EW So tell us about the production process for your Year-End Wraps.
B Well, the first step is the info-gathering phase. As soon as a new year rolls around (while still in "post-production" on the previous year's wrap) I start up a new Word document and usually put down a few general categories for significant events, films and TV, books I read, shows I go to, etc. And then every time something happens that I want to list in the wrap, I type it in there. As soon as I can after seeing a movie, for instance, I'll type at least the name of the movie and give it a rating.
EW Wait a minute. You mean you plot every movie you see onto your list throughout the whole year?
B I might forget to write down a couple, but yeah, basically I record every movie, TV show, book, concert, and most significant things that happen in my life.
EW That's pretty anal!
B Yes, it truly is.
EW Then what?
B Well, at various times throughout the year, usually when I'm dragging my feet on some other more important project (i.e. my thesis) I'll open up the Wrap draft and begin to fill in content, like reviews, preambly section headers, and flush out the list of stuff that has been happening during the year. I also start adding in the html tags to format the document, and search for images and links to make the wrap more colorful, interactive, educational, yadda yadda.
EW So this is really a year-long project.
B Yeah, I'd say it takes me about a 40-hour week to produce it, but that's spread out over thirteen, fourteen months.
EW Well, shit howdy!
B That is one of my favorite expressions of all time!
EW Yeah, somehow I just honed in on it.
B This conversation is getting kinda autochthonous.
EW Huh? OK, so, after you've got all the content in there, how do you wrap up the Wrap?
B When the content is as good as I can get it, all the entries are complete, and the images and links are there, I run a spellcheck, and then I go through the whole thing line by line and edit to make sure all the links actually work, and ensure that all the formatting and grammar is as consistent as possible, and then I'm finally ready to hit "post," ideally in January or February, sometimes later. I think I even dragged one Wrap on til April, but I'm certainly not gonna do that this year.
EW Why's that?
B I've got a thesis to avoid!
EW Thanks a bunch Bree.
B Thank you, EW!

Monday, December 10, 2007

Pot Makes You Dumb

Before DJ and I got stoned tonight, we were discussing Modernism vs. Postmodernism, shifting subjectivities, and the narrative of the detective and psychoanalytic theory.

Now we're playing the ghetto down-home country version of "jenga" and talking about 1970's French cartoon "The Barbapapas."

DJ points out that when at first we were talking about the construction of memory in a sociocultural way, now we are bringing it to the personal. Indeed, he says that the social and the personal are constituents of one another.

Sunday, December 02, 2007

Three More Days

...of staring at a blank screen. Of making chocolate chip cookies, playing my guitar, playing Dr. Mario, building my library on Shelfari, of eating everything in sight. Of doing anything, everything, but writing my damned thesis.

Okay, I have done something. I've culled all the random notes I've jotted down in the books I've read, in articles, in spiral notebooks, on lil post-its. I've typed all those disparate notes into my thesis draft, there for organizing, embellishing, expanding upon. Four pages of notes in all, not bad for a pile of disparate notes. I've also got about three pages of intro, and a few usable pages of lit review, which also have to be organized, and woven into a semi-coherent structure, together with my "original" (laughs) thoughts and then I'll have a first draft on my hands. It'll be a thin, barely adequate first draft, but a first draft it shall be. To be handed in no later than Thursday.

Plus, Astrid is in Boise, on a teaching gig, and I am so relentlessly horny for her. I can't even get a good procrastinatory screw in til Tuesday evening. Bah!

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Crunch

It's the end of the term. Here's what I gotta do in the next week and a half:

- Finish my readings for three classes.
- Write three reflection papers of 2-3 pages that have virtually nothing to do with developing my thesis.
- Write a 10-page case presentation for my group supervision by tomorrow.
- Find more books/articles for my lit review.
- Finish writing a reasonable first draft of my thesis.

Crap.

Saturday, November 17, 2007

Productive Day

Today, I had hours and hours in front of me, with no social plans til dinner time. This was one of the rare days I'd set aside to try to knock out a respectable chunk of work on the thesis. Instead of working diligently as I'd planned to do, I ended up besting the top Dr. Mario score on the ol' Nintendo 64 (*must* click). That is right, my friends, I got to 108,600 points with a viral load filling over 75% of the pill bottle. I'm sure some of you out there have done better than that, but let me just say that me getting the top score means beating out Astrid, her siblings, and various lovers, friends, and roommates who have played that game over the last dozen years. I am the Dr. Mario Champion.

Now, back to death anxiety.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Words for B.M.

"Game Night" at E-Dawg's tonight. I just got home. It's 4:00 AM - no shitting.

Speaking of "shitting," we played the Parlour Game for hours this evening. The crowd at the party were prone to making pretty much everything about sex or bodily functions. The Parlour Game is simple, and usually I've played it with my family on our annual retreat in Monterey. It's a friendly game in which you sit in a circle of folks and take turns thinking of categories. A category is chosen, a 2-minute timer is set, and everyone brainstorms as many things as they can think of in said category. Let's say the category is "Tom Cruise movies" - we all have 2 minutes to come up with as many of 'em as possible, i.e. Top Gun, Rain Man, Risky Business, The Outsiders, Losin' It, etc. Scoring is similar to the game "Boggle"; you get a point for every unique answer, and answers you share with other players are crossed off your list. Anyway, as I was saying, I usually play this game with my family, so it tends to be a pretty much P.G. affair. This evening at E-Dawg's was a bit different. The first category someone picked was "sex toys" which ended up lasting like forty-five minutes in itself (we didn't time the first few rounds - just went around and around the circle for more answers.) Then when we started writing down answers in timed rounds, we did "Ways to say 'having sex'," "Euphemisms for masturbation," and the crowd pleaser, "Words for having a bowel movement." Favorites for that round were "laying pipe," and "voiding the colon." Um, yeah. When I next play the Parlour Game with the family, I'm gonna be so bored when categories like "Beatles songs" and "household appliances" come up.

I can't believe it's 4:30 AM.

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

Deadline

Between now and December 6, I have to cough up the first draft of my thesis. I have about seven sources summarized, and three or four more sources waiting to be read. I have to dig up several more articles and make time to read them. I have to begin writing, narrow my topic, complete my lit review, and somewhere in there, figure out how to contribute some sort of "new thought" to the topic. Being that the awareness of death has been an obsession of humanity since the first glimmers of consciousness, I feel rather intimidated about producing original thought on the subject.

My main question, as it has been refined recently, is something like this: how does the awareness of death impact and shape our intimate relating with our love objects? ("Object," in the psychoanalytic sense, meaning "other" or "person" as opposed to a physical, inanimate object.)

And here lies the underlying reason for my mental block to sitting down and writing: I'm scared shitless about the topic. I picked the topic because I'm scared shitless about it. Now I have to produce something. Anything, really, so long as I get some words down on paper. It's just a rough draft, I tell myself.

A classmate of mine had an inspiring suggestion yesterday. She's decided to try to get down all her own thinking about her topic, what interests her about it, why she chose it, what her ideas are, unclouded by "expert" opinions. Then after she's got 10 or 15 pages, she'll go back and add in sources that support and negate her own ideas. I think there's some serious wisdom in this, and it excites me to think about. I think I've been bogged down in incorporating the historical and current "thinking" about the topic and in the process have become out of touch with what the hell I think about it.

So I'm going to try to do some freewrites over the next few days, and see what comes out. And then I'm going to schedule a trip to the library at the SF Psychoanalytic Institute and gather more sources, read them, and then start putting some structure to the thing.

Now I'm all fired up, and shit. Let me at it!

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Ambrosia of the Devil


The shit is dangerous, people. Dangerous! We made crêpes this weekend, and someone brought the chocolaty, nutty goodness, and I've been eating spoonfuls of it for the last three days. A brilliant way to kick off the holiday gluttony--I'll gain ten pounds by Thanksgiving.

In portliness,
Bree

Friday, October 26, 2007

Not Knowing

"Becoming a therapist is a narcissistically-wounding process." This is what my supervisor told me last week, as I was crying in her office, so afraid that I would say the wrong thing to a client and cause them harm.

It's so hard for me to say "I don't know." Intellectually, I'm all about the ambiguities, the grey areas, the blurry. Unresolved chords--bring 'em! Tangential philosophical conversations that lead to unworkable paradoxes--rock on! The feelings these in betwixt ideas inspire, however, become more complex. The vagaries of life and death that I feel capable of playing with conceptually terrify me at a raw, emotional level. What should I do? Why can't I bring myself to do any solid work on my thesis? What holds me back? What if I don't find a paid internship next year? What if she leaves me? What happens when we die?

I don't fucking know.

Good. I said it, in spades. But then there's the self-flagellation. Why don't you know? You're incompetent and naïve; you really should know. Terrible things will happen if you don't produce the answers. Clients will suffer, my self worth will plummet, fathers will drop dead unexpectedly.

It's your fault, you know.

I don't know.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Limón

The gf and I ate well above our means tonight at a wonderful Peruvian/fusion restaurant on Valencia. It's been around for a number of years now, but neither of us had managed to get there until tonight. Excellent food, they got there, but spendy. We started with a salad of mixed greens and shaved fennel (we're all about the fresh fennel of late) tossed with oranges and a citrus mustard vinaigrette which Astrid called "subtle" and I thought rather "bold." Along with the salad, we ate a ceviche of raw halibut, large prawns, calamari, octopus, and mussels dressed with lime juice and fresh salsa and served with haricot beans, roasted corn, and and a yam paté. For the main event, we shared a generous (read: hella big) pan roasted pork chop with cabbage and bacon hash and mushroom ragú (uh, YUM!) and a tuna tartare, spiced with toasted sesame oil and other Asian flavors. The tartare was served with crisp wonton tips. The fusion of Asian and Latin styles was a bit weird to take in at first, but the tartare really worked. I would tweak the pork chop dish just a wee bit if I were head chef for a day: it was just ever so slightly overcooked, and the mushroom ragú was a touch too salty, even for me, a gal with a high tolerance for the sodium chloride.

The wine list at Limón is fantastic, organized by "red" and "white," but also broken down into accessible categories like "floral spicy" and "dry crisp." Astrid enjoyed a Sanoma Cutrer chardonnay from the Russian River, and I had a lovely Spanish sauvignon blanc, the name of which I've long forgotten (if I ever even knew the name--Astrid did the ordering for us this evening). When the entrées arrived, Astrid switched to a zinfandel, but I stuck with the one glass.

Yes, we got dessert, too, god help us. It was a fucking ridiculously rich--but somehow also airy--flourless chocolate cake, piping hot, with a dark chocolate sauce, fresh figs, and a scoop of arroz con leche ice cream. Holy crap!

Price tag $150.00 w/ tip
Health index: pretty abysmal
Satisfaction: through the roof

After dinner, Astrid really wanted to go dancing. She had the bug, 'cause she'd done Argentine tango this afternoon with Nan. We were both too tired to mission out in the cold evening to find a venue for after dinner dancing, so we biked home and rumba'd* in the living room for a spell.

'Twas quite a magical evening.



*"Verbification" of the word "rumba" brought to you by my nephew, Joey, an aficionado of the liberal evolution of the English language.

Friday, October 12, 2007

Pavarotti vs. The Walrus

So Google is celebrating Pavarotti's birthday today by linking him on the homepage, a custom I've quite enjoyed over the years on various birthdays and anniversaries of important people, events, yadda yadda (e.g. The Lunar Landing, Einstein's birthday,etc.) My question is: what are the criteria (if any) that Google uses to determine who and what gets commemorated in this manner?

I became curious, because John Lennon's birthday was a few days ago, and I had wondered why Google didn't acknowledge it, and now Pavarotti is being celebrated, and I'm thinking, hmm...is opera so much more culturally relevant than rock 'n' roll, particularly when "John Lennon" registers a million and a half more Google hits than "Pavarotti?" Clearly, Google can't possibly acknowledge every outstanding public figure or historical event, so there must be some sort of formula or process that determines who gets the goods.

I emailed Ube's man, who works at "the Google" (in the words of G.W.), to see if he knows the secret. Anyone out there know?

xo
Bree

Sunday, October 07, 2007

Look! Giant Penises in the sky!

I fucking hate the Blue Angels.

I'm not complaining, say, about the ear-splitting sonic whir heard overhead in San Francisco for an entire week every October. I'm not talking, either, about the thousands of tourists in their polluting cars congesting the City streets all week so they can catch site of the super-dazzling synchronized cock-fest in the air (a congestion that apparently brings $4 million in tourist revenue, it will be, and has been, argued.)

I hate the Blue Angels because they make war look sexy. I hate them because we pay for this super-fast, super-loud death-defying circle jerk with our tax money. I hate them because, in addition to paying millions of dollars annually to run this air show, we are also footing the bill for what is essentially an extraordinarily expensive and environmentally costly advertisement for rampant, unremitting militarism. I hate them because they spew thousands of pounds of CO2 into the atmosphere all year traveling from city to city for no legitimate reason.

According to the Blue Angels website, the squadron is currently made up of twelve planes, ten of which are F/A-18 A jets and two of which are F/A-18 B jets. Each of the F/A-18 A planes costs, at a minimum, $21 million a piece (other military-related websites put them at $28 million each) and that basic cost does not include any of the weapons-related systems that could easily double or triple the cost per plane. The Angels also fly a C-130T, nicknamed "Fat Albert." The cost of the C-130T is approximately $65 million, though I do not know how much the Blue Angels kicked down for it in 1970 when they originally acquired it.

The Angels burn an estimated 3.1 million gallons of jet fuel every year, which means a cost of about $3.3 million a year, and fuck knows how much carbon dioxide being pumped into the atmosphere. Add that to the 1.7 million gallons of fuel a day that the U.S. military is burning in Iraq and it's just insult upon injury upon death upon global environmental devastation.



San Francisco Supervisor Chris Daly made a third attempt this year to ban the Angels, citing mainly public safety and environmental reasons. The move was blocked and didn't make it to the full board of supes for a vote, but hopefully Daly and the other progressives on the board will continue to work on it.

One of the specific reasons cited by Daly in the effort to ban the air show this year was the death of an Angel pilot in a crash last April in South Carolina. In addition to the death of 32 year old Lt. Commander Kevin J. Davis, the crash also injured eight bystanders and wrecked several homes. Apparently a minister emceeing the air show at Air Station Beaufort in South Carolina reassured the mourners that “the spirit of the pilot is in the arms of a loving God.” Fuck you.

Quit flying war machines for fun, for fuck's sake.

Monday, October 01, 2007

TMBG


Saw They Might Be Giants at the Fillmore tonight with Astrid and DJ. It was my first time seeing them, but both of them have seen the band numerous times before, DJ claiming he's seen them "more than 15 but less than 20" times. I dunno how impressive the show was to DJ, ever the malcontent, but I thought they were pretty fantastic. Highlights were Ana Ng, Doctor Worm, and Mr. Me, complete with a bitchin' horn section. In some ways, their showmanship is rather carnivalesque, which totally fits them as a band. At one point, they did this shtick where they received "phone calls from the dead," putting a mic up against a projection screen showing a cartoon cemetery. The call they got was allegedly from television's Jerry Orbach, but as the skit progressed, the caller turned out to be a Jerry Orbach impersonator, also dead, mind you, but a charlatan nonetheless. Wacky wacky.

TMBG is yet another of those bands out there that I've always loved, but never got around to following closely or owning much of their stuff. I'm only really familiar with their first three albums (the self-titled album, Lincoln, and Flood); then I stopped paying attention. But they've got a seriously large oeuvre. I'm probably not going to delve much deeper at this late date, but I'm really happy to have seen them live finally. They are some good fun.

Friday, September 28, 2007

Backslash

Congrats to Ube and her man - they've got a new baby on their hands! Kaloo, kalay! Little Backslash has been born!

Sunday, September 23, 2007

Upside down you turn me



Did anyone out there hear about the incident at Montebello High School that happened last year, in which students (apparently from neighboring districts) took down the school's American flag, flipped it upside down, and hung it below the Mexican flag? If you've heard about it at all, it's likely you gleaned the information from a frothy-mouthed mass email message that's been circulating for a year or more since the incident. That's how I got the info, just today, in my inbox, from a friend of my mom's who insists on including me in all her mass mailings, which include dumb jokes, prayers for our soldiers, mainstream-conservative political diatribes, virus alerts (all hoaxes), "Amber" alerts (actual and unsubstantiated), and god knows what else.

It turns out that the Montebello High incident, the result of last year's national walk-out to protest Congressional immigration reforms, is news that I happen to be interested in, when it's not couched in the right-wing vitriol of a random mass emailing:

"If you choose to remain uninvolved (Ed. note: i.e. if we don't stop those uppity brown kids), do not be amazed when you no longer have a nation to call your own nor anything you have worked for left since it will be 'redistributed' to the activists while you are so peacefully staying out of the 'fray.'"

Yeah, our American Way of Life is truly in danger when high school students march in solidarity to protest U.S. immigration law and (ooh, shivers!) turn a flag upside down (the sight of which, by the way, the mass email in question called "heart-stopping!") I guess they're really sullying that old First Amendment by exercising free speech and freedom of assembly. The argument can be made that school officials must keep kids in class; in fact, the Montebello kids weren't the instigators, because they were on lock-down and unable to participate in the demonstration. But shit, if kids are skipping school once in a while to engage in activism of all things, and they didn't even destroy the flag (an act I have no moral qualm with, though I could see someone getting busted for damaging school property,) what is the bloody fucking harm?



So, despite my interest in this particular subject, I decided to attempt to cut off any further junk mailings by my mom's friend. I hit "reply" on the message, and immediately fell into a writer's block when considering how to word such a request in a polite manner. I really wanted to say, "Pardon me, but I have no interest in this racist alarmist crapola and would you kindly remove me from your list?" Hey, at least that statement was half-polite. I found this site, which might be useful to folks finding themselves in a similar dilemma:

ThanksNo.Com

It's a pretty straightforward form letter available for linking to anyone you need to school in mass mail etiquette. After getting inspiration from Thanks No, I opted for my own wording, which I hope was innocuous enough:

I'm emailing you because I'd like to request that you take me off your "group email" list. While I'm always happy to receive personal, one-on-one emails from friends, or invitations to specific events, I'd rather not receive mass-forwarded jokes, political messages, etc.

I don't mean to be ungracious or rude. I'm happy that you include me among your nearest and dearest! I just don't like receiving mass-delivered mail.

Thanks a bunch, and take care!


Viva La Raza!
--Bree

Monday, September 17, 2007

Getting in Touch

Last week, I had a session with my very first ever psychotherapy client! I'm sure there was nothing particularly healing about the session, other than the simple Hawthorne effect - here was an eager psych intern listening intently and asking detailed, very personal questions about someone's life, and maybe they did or didn't benefit or feel better as a result of just being paid attention to by me. But we had a good rapport, the client was open to sharing stuff with me, and I was a lot less anxious and more grounded than I thought I'd be. After I got back to the clinic from lunch break, I mentioned to a colleague that I thought, in the minutes before seeing my first client, that I would feel out of my body, like I was floating, and I that I actually didn't feel that at all. I was also worried about how much I'd be sweating from nervousness in the session, but that too was under a reasonable amount of control. Focusing on my breathing really helped. Keeping alert and attuned to what was being said (and not said) by the client kept me centered on the task at hand. And recording my progress notes directly after the session was a useful exercise in remembering a lot of the detail that may have escaped my mind by now.

The other really cool thing that happened was that I had a phone appointment with a local psychotherapist who has some expertise in grief work and running bereavement therapy groups. Graciously, she gave me about an hour on the phone to give me some insight and pointers about starting a grief group at the clinic. Talking to her really put me in touch with why I want to do this work: I want to help people hold and move through their suffering, particularly as it relates to loss and grief. Essentially, she was inviting me to play on the "existential playground" as she called it, to join a community of healers who help people navigate this life/death threshold. I feel very new and humble right now, not taking myself so very seriously or trying to sound self-important. Of all the playgrounds, this is certainly one of the scariest to choose for myself, like being a two year-old at the top of the spiral slide on the "big kid's" side of the park. But this is where I want to be.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Back to Skewl

Had my first day of school today, with the end of summer on my mind. This song's been in my head all day.* Had me a blast, I did. Off the top, this is what I did this summer:

- went camping a couple times
- started a nerdy alumni site for my Jewish camp friends
- started my clinical internship
- watched a lot of Buffy
- read a bit for my thesis
- started taking ballroom dance lessons with the GF!
- put all my old photos into albums
- made out with Olivia Newton-John under the dock

We had one class tonight. I think I'm gonna like our new instructor for family therapy; she's a no-bullshit kinda lady. The other thing that happened at school was that the dean of our department assured us that even though our hippy-ass college is under probation and may lose its accreditation, our degrees won't be affected. As long as we are enrolled in an accredited college, she tells us, we're covered. Future students might not fare so well. I'll keep you all posted, naturally.

*Note: link changed from original. Now, watch the stop-motion Lego version of "Summer Nights" from Grease - it's hilarious. Something sublime about little lego men saying, "You got in her drawers, right?"

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Technorati

Just listed myself on Technorati. Check it out.

Technorati Profile

I've pinged them, but they're still only listing really old entries - does anyone know how this thing works? Thanks!

--Bree

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Me/You

Where do "I" end and "you" begin?

Patrick Swayze thinks he knows the answer.

"This is my dance space; this is your dance space," he asserts, with confidence.

I don't buy that whole idea, though, that we exist as totally separate entities with precise boundaries (not that Patrick Swayze was making an analogy about human interaction, and not that I seek some permeable merging of self with Patrick Swayze, either, mind you) but as I live and love and experience the world, I'm coming to realize that the concept of "self" itself is a much more ambiguous notion than we tend to conceptualize here in the West.

I'm coming at this from the context of being a very green psychotherapist- in-training: what is my client's shit, and what is my shit, when I'm sitting in the room with him/her/hir? Will I be able to suss out what the client is expressing (or not expressing) from my own feeling states as they arise in our interaction? The operative technical terms here are the transference and the countertransference, which are generally used in a psychotherapy context, but can obviously be applied to any interaction we have with a particular person, or with people or institutions or objects more generally. Crudely put, transference phenomena are the projected feelings a client puts onto the therapist (or a person puts onto another significant person), in an enactment of unconscious, deeply ingrained relational dynamics. The classic example might be the client regarding the therapist as a parent figure and unconsciously acting out as if one was with a parent. On the flip side, the countertransference refers to the therapist's feelings toward the client, and is understood in a couple different ways. It can refer both to the therapist's personal unconscious processes being enacted with the client and to the therapist's conscious utilization of the feelings that are generated in the presence of the client in order to forward therapeutic ends. It's at this very early stage in my development as a therapist that I am beginning to understand how crucial these concepts will be.

This is a very simplistic representation of how I'm imagining the interaction I'm describing:



The main anxiety I'm feeling about beginning therapy with my first clients (which will be within about two weeks' time) is how to negotiate that intersection: when is that intermediate space well-boundaried and productive, and when is it a mushy-boundaried, collapsed space? Certainly, my boundaries with clients need to be kept quite intact, and just permeable enough in order to have a human, real interaction, but when might a collapsed space actually be fruitful, if not totally inappropriate, over-exposing, or detrimental to the curative work of the therapy?

Of course, these anxieties are not contained just to my work as a therapist-in-training. As a person moving about the world with all my particular emotional baggage, I do this delicate dance of intimacy all the time. How much of myself is melding into my lover, and how much of her is melding into me? Are we creating enough space for each other to be wholly ourselves, or are our personal boundaries becoming ever blurrier, to the point that we will dissolve into this indiscernible mass of Bree/Astrid – Brastrid? Astbree? And even in the face of this fear of overlapping, of losing myself, I experience moments when I want nothing more than to completely merge with her, stripped, both of us, naked bellies pressed as far together as possible before we come out the other side. Ah, sweet collapse.

Sunday, August 12, 2007

Cover it in Snow/Cover it in I Don't Know...

My dream last night was reminiscent of those situations that always seem to come up in TV sitcoms, in which a character (Bobby Brady, perhaps) feeds too much detergent into a washing machine and ends up filling an entire room with soap suds. The room was small and square, and the washing machine was soon buried in water and suds. I was surveying the scene from a vantage point above the room, and it was my task to start bailing out the room a bucketful at a time, only when I bailed out a certain amount of water and bubbles, a densely-packed roomful of wet sand remained, which I had to continue excavating. I woke anxious and frustrated, with the refrain from this song in my head. I don't know why I thought of this song, about covering over something, when I was actually digging something out in the dream, but that's where the unconscious mind traveled. I'd covered something up, only to be charged with the task of unearthing it again.

Saturday, August 04, 2007

Dreaming is Free, but Drinking Ain't

Mag and K. and I went to Pauline's last night. Shit howdy, they have good pizza! And I didn't know til last night they grow their own vegetables at a farm in Berkeley.* They do a très California style pizza--thin crust, with organic toppings and lots of flavor. I also got a salad and a Boont Amber. I will freely promote Anderson Valley beers 'cause they're not only yummy, they're also Solar Powered. After dinner, Mag and I strolled down Valencia and had a drink and good chat at the Elbo Room. Drink number two of the evening was an exceedingly dry Manhattan with Knob Creek bourbon (even when funded solely on student loans, I manage to drink beyond my means.) I don't think the guy even put the sweet vermouth in there; it was just whiskey, bitters, and a cherry. It was pretty ick, actually. As with my martinis, I like my Manhattans on the wet side, and "dirty," as Mag pointed out, could be said of maraschino cherry as well as olive juice in their respective cocktails.

We parted ways, and I biked back home and did a little Netflixing and other various online things, expecting Astrid to be home soon from work. At about 10:00 o'clock, she called me from the sushi place down the street, right next to the Mint, and asked me if I'd like to join her. I mozied on over, and sat with my girl while she ate decent sushi and drank cheap sake. A karaoke patron's rendition of "Little Red Corvette" encroached into the sushi bar, and we toyed with the idea of putting song requests in for ourselves. While Astrid finished up her dinner, I grabbed a songbook from the bar and began with the A's (ABBA, perhaps; America...neh; Bee Gees, too falsetto...)

Astrid looked at the list upside down from across the table and saw a Bjork number she was excited about. I settled on Blondie's Dreaming, and we got ourselves seats at the bar and passed our slips to the usual KJ, a man on whom I've projected an elaborate fantasy of knowing which songs are in my range and which are not, and whom I dreaded would know that I wouldn't be able to carry off Blondie and would communicate such disapproval with a raised eyebrow or a shrug. Of course, he paid no attention to me as I stuffed the song slips into his jar with the requisite couple-buck tip. Astrid ordered a lemon drop, and I had another Manhattan (this time with well whiskey, and I specified "on the sweet side" to the bartender, who humored me.)

For a Friday night, the Mint was uncharacteristically dead, so we knew our songs would come up quickly. Astrid ordered another lemon drop meantime.

I pulled off "Dreaming" pretty well, and was surprised (the KJ knew I could do it all along, naturally,) but the real star of the night was Ms. Astrid, who totally nailed It's Oh So Quiet, with cute little dancy flourishes and crazy head-shaking and screams, just like our little cuddly/scary Bjork. It was delightful to see her so free and having so much fun on stage! When we were both done with our 3 minutes of fame a piece, I posed this question to Astrid: "Should I order another Manhattan, or should we just go home and fuck?"

We left the bar feeling horny and pleased with ourselves.


_____________________________

*Farms, in Berkeley? Mooo! (Thank you, B. I know at least you will get a chuckle out of that joke.)

Monday, July 30, 2007

I'm a total dork.



I spent my free time this weekend creating a Yahoo group for alumni of my old Jewish summer camp. Not because someone commissioned me to do so, but because I thought it'd be neat! Actually, it's pretty fucking cool. I scanned bunches of old photos from the 80's and posted them, and put out a "welcome" message and then sent invites to all the people from Camp I'm still in touch with, 'bout five or six folks. Then I went onto Myspace and found a few more people and sent them invites, and now I'm just kinda waiting and seeing if anyone will bite and what kinds of pictures and discussion threads might start happening. I think that the site will probably grow to about double the membership now (so, say to ten or so people) within a few weeks, and then it'll probably be in stasis for a long time until other people feel motivated to scan photos and start chats and whatever. Maybe it'll just be the Bree Show; I have no idea at this point.

The photo on the right is classic, 'cause it's such a period piece. I've cropped myself and some other people out of the picture, but the central figure, Jenny (of course her name is Jenny) is not only wearing a John Taylor button, but also not one, but two Swatches on her wrist. Her hair, as well, is totally to die for, n'est-ce pas? This pic was taken in 1985, when we were all about 13 years old. Yes, it is I giving Jenny the "bunny ears" from two seats over. We were on a bus going on some camp field trip, probably to Great America. Ah, mem'ries.

Friday, July 20, 2007

Don't let the name fool you.

Oh my god I'm so freaking excited. Little Darlings is playing at the Castro tonight. Suddenly, more and more of my friends are coming out of the woodwork with their obsessions, too.

It is positively the best movie in the "teenage losing your virginity flick" genre, and Ube and I have been enthralled with it since the mid-80s.

Otherwise, a very relaxing day of dusting, vacuuming, making fresh salsa, and generally enjoying my summer freedom. Seriously, today I got, as Astrid put it, tongue-somewhat-in-cheek, "zen" about my house cleaning. It just feels so good to be nearly done with my bookkeeping gigs and on my way to starting a profession I am compelled by. My internship at the queer mental health clinic starts the first week in August. Meanwhile, I've got actual free time in which to live, and, yes, clean.

Saturday, July 07, 2007

Buzzkill?

Sheesh, I thought by now I'd have some responses on the Death Poll, but I guess everyone found it too creepy or something? Or maybe people aren't checking the blog 'cause of the holiday and all. What gives?

I'm off to San Jose today to visit Mom and Schmend. C. is outta town, on a cruise to Alaska, in fact. Dunno if I'll see any of the nieces or nephews on this trip, but that'd be nice. We'll see how the day shapes up. I'll have three good hours of reading time on the train back and forth--hopefully I can finally knock out The Denial of Death because, truth be told, I'm getting a bit sick of reading it, even though it's really eye-opening. Only so much conceptual death I can handle at a time, I guess, but certainly more of it than actual death, right?

Love and stuff,
--Bree

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

Death Poll

So I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but I'm doing my masters thesis on the subject of death. More specifically, I'm going to be exploring the effects of our uniquely human capacity for the awareness of death, or our ability to anticipate death. How does this consciousness of our own demise shape our emotional lives, our psychology, our ability to live in the world, operate in relationships, and exist in our finite bodies? Does it drive us to destruction, violence, and war? Does it give the privileged in the world (white, global north/west, wealthy) a way to disavow death and project it onto people of color and the poor through war, economic oppression, environmental devastation? And on the other hand, can our terror of death motivate us to put forward lasting creative projects in the world (to write books, make babies, found religions) to ensure our own symbolic immortality?

In my reading and research, I'm coming across a lot of different theories, ideas, frameworks. Major influences right now are Ernest Becker, and post-Freudian psychoanalysis (Melanie Klein, Otto Rank, Lacan, and Frantz Fanon). I want to branch out into other disciplines as well, and I'd be interested if anyone has any suggestions for research areas I should check out. I'd particularly like to read more women writers.

Some questions I'm generating at this early stage of the game are as follows. Please consider answering any or all of these questions in the comment section. I'd love to know other people's thoughts in order to get a bigger perspective than just what's been going on in my own head and in my reflections of what I've been reading.


1. Do you think the fear of death, or the denial of death is a "universal" fear, or anything close to a "universal" fear? Can you think of ways in which the fear of death manifests itself either psychologically at the level of individuals, or socio-culturally?

2. Do you think there is such a thing as a "death drive" or an instinct that drives us toward, or compels us toward death psychologically, not just biologically toward entropy and decay?

3. What do you think happens when we die? Do you know what your parent/s think/thought about death? Do your beliefs differ significantly from theirs?

4. How often do you think about, have anxious or curious feelings about, or fantasize/daydream about death? (your own death and/or the death of your loved ones?)

I hope everyone feels very free to leave comments. If you'd rather email your thoughts to me personally, leave a comment with your email address, and I'll send you mine if you don't know it already.

Peace,
--Bree

Sunday, July 01, 2007

Freedom!

Finally finished my finals, and I feel fantastic!

I *heart* alliteration.

Anon, here I find myself on the first day of my summer vacation. So much to do, so little time. Off to brunch with B. More later...

Monday, June 25, 2007

Two to Go

Finished my paper for child psychotherapy tonight, and still managed to watch two episodes of Angel. Astrid made an amazing salad for dinner with butter lettuce, carrots, cucumber, yellow bell pepper, sunflower sprouts, boiled eggs, and fresh mozzarella, dressed in a delectable raspberry vinaigrette with fresh tarragon and basil. I made crunchy garlic crostini with slices of baguette, freshly pounded garlic, salt, pepper, and olive oil. I'm actually salivating while I'm typing this.

Tomorrow, I work on my thesis papers in earnest. Three more days til summer break.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Breathe

My next nine days:

Tomorrow:
Read for class
Work on papers due for end of term for Child Psychotherapy,
Critical Theory, and Thesis classes
My final Critical Theory class
My final Law & Ethics class; 50-question final exam

Friday:
Penultimate* day at my Friday bookkeeping gig
Train new bookkeeper
Tranny March at Dolores Park
Party and general mayhem

Saturday:
Work on papers in the morning
LGBTQ filmfest local short films program
Dyke March at Dolores Park
Party and much more mayhem
Pink Saturday in the Castro
Even more partying and mayhem

Sunday:
Recover from the weekend
Work on papers
Avoid the Pride Parade
Reward myself with bloody marys

Monday:
Monday bookkeeping gig
Work on papers

Tuesday:
Work on papers
Final Child Psychotherapy class
More work on papers

Wednesday:
Wednesday bookkeeping gig
Final night to work on papers

Thursday:
Last chance to finalize all three papers
Therapy appointment
Turn in papers
Graduate Psychology Symposium on campus

Friday:
Last day at Friday bookkeeping gig
Last day of training with new bookkeeper

Breathe!

*I just learned that word!

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Love - One

Astrid and I had a gorgeous, healthful evening. We made the yummiest fucking turkey burgers ever with a big salad and oven-fries (though, Astrid reminded me, they weren't fries at all, since they were baked, so I think we agreed on calling them "baked 'French-cut' potatoes" and then ruminated about whether there's anything "French" about "french fries" anyway.)

The turkey burgers were fantastic. I started with a pound of Diestel ground turkey in a big stainless steel bowl. I threw in a very large dash of salt (probably somewhere around two teaspoons), milled a bunch of black pepper into it, a couple dashes of hot sauce (I like Tapatio), tossed in one egg white, finely diced red onion (I would have used shallots, but we were out. It's never a good thing to be out of shallots!), minced one clove of garlic, and chopped finely a good couple tablespoons each of fresh sage and thyme.

Don't use dried herbs, or I'll have to pound on you!

So after throwing all that in the bowl, I mixed it all with my bare hands, which is a complete and utter necessity, except that it's totally disgusting, but wash your hands good before, and even better afterward. Then I heated up a large iron skillet, oiled it lightly with olive oil (try it on medium/medium high depending on how hot your stove runs.) The meat divided up into three good sized patties, and I placed those in the hot skillet. I can't be too sure of the time, but basically, I gave them several minutes on each side (say six or seven) and then, as the French-cut potatoes were baking in the oven, I placed the burgers, still in the skillet, in there to finish off, maybe another seven to ten minutes. Toasted some buns, melted some sharp cheddar cheese on top in the last minute of cooking (Astrid thought Swiss would be better next time), grilled up some red onions, and voila (or "viola," as one of Exene's professors actually has been caught saying, not ironically) - juicy, low fat amazingly flavorful turkey burgers!

After just the right amount of dinner (I did not nibble at the extra burger, nor did I bake too many French-cut potatoes) we took a walk up to Dolores Park and played some tennis (read: hit some balls wildly around the court) which was just love-ly (ahem) as A. and I'd never played together before. I think it might become a thing.

While we walked back home (pronounce the "l" in "walk" - this is a holdover in the vernacular from when B. and Mag were still together, I think), hand in hand, we noticed many other people out walking. The day was unusually warm, and at nine-thirty, when we were done with tennis, it was perfectly gorgeous still. We walked and laughed about all the people walking on their legs, I dunno why, but it was silly and pleasing to us--that everyone was walking on their legs--and we had big smiles on our faces. Another couple passed us, and the woman said to us, "You're so cute!" I wanted to tell them that they were cute, too, but I couldn't stop grinning and laughing.

Yay, healthy food! Yay, physical activity! Yay love!

Sunday, June 03, 2007

Rosebud

Hanging out at Muddy's, attempting to write a self-evaluation paper on my clinical skills in identifying and working with clients' substance abuse issues. Mag'll be here pretty soon and then we're going to the Castro to see Citizen Kane on the big screen. Exciting - he's never seen it before! I've only seen it once, so it'll be great to see it again and be able to absorb more of the details in the plot, in the filming, in the performances.

Yesterday, Astrid, Bob, DJ, and I went to a softball game organized by some friends of Astrid's. Calisto and Dave were there, too. The latent softball dyke in me came out in full color, and I found myself almost involuntarily yelling shit like, "Good eye!" and "Way to hustle!" I haven't played the game since probably 1988. I found that all my skills--hitting, catching, throwing--had atrophied, but I can still hold my own "for a girl." After about an hour and a half on the field, I began playing better, but by that time I was pretty tired. Definitely have to do it again sometime.

After the game, Astrid, DJ, Bob and I went over to Calisto and Dave's for yummy mushroom soup and a screening of Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home. It was definitely my favorite in the Star Trek movie saga. Humpback whales save the Earth, dude - who could not love that shit? Probably not quite the calibur of Citizen Kane, but hey, I'm an ecclectic film lover.