Rock N' Roll: The Devil's Music

This photo is of my daughter and one member of the musical duo 3OH!3. If you haven't heard of them, that probably means you're my age, or close by. I only heard them because one evening while my daughter had itunes playing, foul lyrics were hip-hopping out of the Mac. (I read that their music is a sort of satire of rap music, but sheesh, satire can be so heavily veiled sometimes).  This is how the scene went:

What!? Hannah, please turn this music off.

Huff. I like the beat -- that's what I listen to, not the words (or something very similar, I've heard it several times).

You hear the words subliminally. You're hearing the words whether you think so or not (is what I usually say).

So how did I end up asking this character from this band who described their music in a recent "Rolling Stone" article as 'Celine Dion on ice - not the skating ice, the meth ice' if he would pose for a picture with my daughter back stage at his show?

Well, it wasn't as hard as you think.  My good friend, Tina, (part of the Marianne and Tina mountain biking fame) brought Hannah and I as guests of her daughter to the Warped Tour. Tina's daughter works for Capitol Records and was at the music festival representing an artist signed by Capitol, a young woman who sings a song about kissing a girl and liking it. Tina's daughter got us backstage everywhere. We ate lunch with the bands, we went on Capitol Record's tour bus, we stood in line to use the restroom which doubled as the female artists showers. . . etc. But my daughter's best moments, she told me, were getting to be on stage with at least four or five of her favorite bands while they played to a teenage crowd. Days later it made me think how differently my daughter is growing up than I did -- in significantly more ways than just back stage passes to the Warped Tour -- and I wondered how differently this will influence her choices and her life than mine. Growing up in a different generation, raised by a parent with different beliefs than my parents had, and being shown a different outlook on life.

And even while I ponder, I need to go monitor what she is listening to. I can't believe what kids call music these days. Alas, I guess some things will never be different.(One of the musical influences of the members of 3OH!3 is the Beastie Boys. I hope these boys change their "party" image like the Beastie Boys eventually did, because in actuality they are two summe cum laude with a lot of humorous energy on stage. And they even seemed like nice young men back stage.  But their lyrics, ughh.)

Foreign Policy, It's What's For Dinner

Are you looking for something new for dinner that is tasty and stirs up conversation in one serving?  I heard of this cookbook at evilcuisines.com, "Cuisines of The Axis of Evil and Other Irritating States:  A Dinner Party," and it has whetted my appetite.

Hannah's Photos

I know some of you feel it is a cop-out of a post when I only publish photos that my daughter has taken. You are probably correct, I am not putting any writing effort (or thought) into the post; I did not pick up the camera and take the photos myself (mostly because Hannah is bogarting our old, cheap camera. BTW, the etymology of the word "bogart" is '1969 "to keep a joint in your mouth" dangling from the lip like Humphrey Bogart's cigarette in the old movies, instead of passing it on. First attested in "easy Rider."' Etymology.com); and I am not sharing any useful information I overheard or drawing any conclusions to help us all understand the world around us a little better.

However, I do love the photos my daughter takes and they inspire me in untold ways. So here are three shots that she took at my Aunts' house in Ventura -- and tweaked a little with our stock photo editing program on the Mac. Enjoy!

(I call these the "Muppet Flowers.")

Look Before You Blend

Have you ever been so groggy, because you were supposed to wake up at 6:00 am for a 6:30 am bike ride but you turned your alarm off in your sleep (partly due to the fact that you were so excited about an early morning bike ride that you kept waking up through out the night) and your friend who showed up at 6:30 am had to finally at 6:40 am come in your room and wake you up, that you stumble in to the kitchen to quickly make the protein shake that you had set all the ingredients out the night before but can't find the plastic insert to the top of your blender and you're in a hurry (because you're supposed to ride down and meet up with two others from your group and be at the confluence by 7:00 am) so you decide to just cover your hand over the gape in the lid of the blender and once you turn it on it is really making an obnoxious grinding noise (and you think, wow, that ice in the shake is tough and you wonder if you made the right decision to not get the new blender at Costco yesterday because you decided your old blender/food processor, which your mom gave you and is from the 70's, is still working and you don't want to needlessly consume) and so once the shake is blended you pour it into two cups, one for you and your friend, and you shortly realize that you are drinking shards of blended plastic and your friend accuses you of trying to kill him (Namanny) and you realize that inside the blender is where the missing plastic part to the lid was, why didn't you think to look there, but you can't worry about that or even nutrition at this point because your other two friends are relying on you to be at the confluence on time so you rush off on your bike spitting plastic out of your mouth thinking that now you really like your old 70's Moulinex blender/food processor even though it is the ugliest piece of equipment in your kitchen and the plastic is yellowing but you highly doubt you can find a replacement piece and may actually have to go to Costco and spend the money to buy the new one?  

Have you ever been that groggy?

Props to Butterflies

Shadowing after Cole while he long-boarded through the neighborhood streets of Ventura, CA I ran across a deceased butterfly laying fully intact on the sidewalk. It was lovely in its death and I decided to take it back because I thought Hannah might like to see it. It really was lovely. I set it on a porch bench by the front door and forgot about it until the next day when we were departing for our long drive home.

"Hannah," I said, "look at this butterfly I found." She paused to look it over and then took it from my hands. Without seeming hesitation she walked over to my Aunt Gerry's rose garden, placed the carcass on top of a rose, and began snapping photos as she contorted to get different angles.

What she produced are some almost surreal photos of a dead butterfly (is 'almost surreal' a description [almost a hallucinatory dream-like state]?). I say . . .

Ventura, CA

Cole in pool. 

Photo by HannahHannah on beach.

Photo by Kirstie

It was a lovely time. . .