Quote of the Day

We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aid, but by an infinite expectation of the dawn. - Henry David Thoreau

(I have noticed how I yo-yo between pretty silly and overly strident. This is when I usually give up and defer to the wisdom of others until the dust in my head settles.)

NTD

Biography: Not the A&E Kind

While reading the UK's Daily Mail online - because of course I only read serious news - there was an item about Heather Mills planning a biopic of her life. She is intent on getting Reese Witherspoon to play her in this film. Well, hell, Heather, who wouldn't want to be portrayed by an actress as adorable and talented (and a decade younger) as Ms. Witherspoon? And if I were a man - as in say, Jared the Subway dieter - I would insist that only Johnny Depp would have the finesse to capture my sensitive soul.

Mills has had quite a life, and at 39 there is plenty of material to develop a script around while still sparing us from viewing all that jiggy sex that Sir McCartney and his wife allegedly enjoyed during the early days of love. I believe I'd rather watch her leg being amputated.

I think to myself... if I had a film made about my life until age 39, it might be more of a seventies-style TV movie of the week. Let's call it Debra: Shopkeeping, Children's Birthday Parties, and the Peter Pans She Loved. Okay, I'll have to work on the title. Maybe it's more like Debra: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Learned to Love Dancing with my Peter Pan Boyfriends to the Tune of Spice Girls Anthems Played at My Daughters' Birthday Parties While Hoping the Store Was Not Shoplifted Blind Because My Employees Were On The Phone While I Was Throwing Said Party.

God, I'm suddenly glad that I'm 47.

Okay, so of course my love interests will be played by Johnny Depp and Gael Garcia Bernal and Jake Gyllenhaal. And although I have always looked to Woody Allen-era Diane Keaton as my guiding force, a woman just doesn't choose a much-older actress to play her part. So I'm thinking Kate Winslet or Cate Blanchett, since both are so great that they could take the sometimes mundane details of an ordinary life and turn those suckers into Oscar-worthy High Drama. I sort of fancy the idea of either an Aussie or a Brit trying to approximate my Georgia-but-fighting-the-drawl accent. Also, they'd need to gain X number of pounds ASAP, because there is "More Of Me To Love" or "A Few Extra Pounds", depending on which personals websites a person such as I could use (if I weren't "In A Relationship", as I indicated on MySpace).

And the director? Let's call it an ensemble work featuring the Spikes: Jonze and Lee. I think that Jonze is a good chaos director, which is a plus, but I love Spike Lee so much that maybe he could direct a fantasy sequence of me as a black woman - Halle Berry, perhaps, but not like her amazing Jungle Fever performance as the crack whore. A dream sequence, with a cameo by Denzel or Djimon, of course. And an ice cube.

It might not be a successful concept, but it would be a different sort of Hollywood movie. And it would be less predictable than seeing the dirty laundry of a Beatle as viewed by his golddigging ex-wife.

Hey, I'd like to watch it.

NTD

Feeling cookbookish

I bought 150 used cookbooks on Saturday, then went out to eat with Anna.

Everyone gets a cookbook for Christmas this year. I listed perhaps 100 on Amazon, and have spent the last couple of evenings lying in bed reading everything from The Shirelles' favorite recipes ("I Met Him on a Sundae") to Pearl Jam's ("Thai Peanut Curry Thang"), both found in The Rock&Roll Cookbook, to Tuskegee Institute's African American Heritage Cookbook ("Smothered Yardbird" and "Mrs. Vera Foster's Southern Gumbo"); to "Erogenous Scones" and "Incredible Oedible Pie" in a mock Freudian cookbook; and "Lowrider Beef Picadillo" from The Biker Cookbook (surprisingly, a collection of reasonable recipes).

I suppose that the next step is a trip to the grocery store.

NTD

I really should consider taking a shower or washing dishes - wait, I'm not being a filthy lazyass, I'm just CONSERVING WATER IN THIS TIME OF SEVERE DROUGHT IN GEORGIA. That's it - my newest excuse in the fine art of slackery. And vacuuming? Well, I'm just saving electricity so that Georgia Power can cancel those proposed additional nukes. I won't need additional wattage in these times of critical environmental crisis. I might wear the same pair of jeans for seven days straight, but Al Gore is causing me to rethink my relationship to the washing machine.

I love sitting around and persuading myself that laziness is a virtue.

NTD

I turned 47 yesterday. And today, my lovely daughter Sarah is celebrating her 22nd birthday.

Happy birthday, Sarah! Please do not damage yourself during today's rugby game.

NTD

Favorite things which I obtained this week:

- Free. A fistful of Chick Publications gospel tracts, including the classic anti-evolutionary "There Go The Dinosaurs"; Dial-the-Truth Ministries fun little pamphlet "Rock Music - The Devil's Advocate"; and, just for balance, "Who Are The Baha'is?". Results of reading all of these are pending.

- Seventy five cents each. Now on VHS: Will Vinton's Claymation Easter and Magic Star Traveler Volume 2, "starring Jerry and the Puppets - meet Solar the space captain and his friends Luster, Moonshine and Imagination as they explore those tall, tall, tall friendly Giraffes and the mysterious Camel". Also, a 1986 Dokken video.

- $1.50 plus tax. An autographed Margaret Thatcher memoir, signed and numbered.

- Eight dollars and change. Four pounds of green peanuts which are currently boiling, a small bag of sweet potatoes, and a slice of red velvet cake made by the holy hands of the ladies of the local A.M.E. church.

- Two bucks. The Duran Duran Tribute Album.

So maybe my room didn't get exactly cleaned up, but, hey, look at my trinket collection!

NTD

I must clean up my room.
I must clean up my room.
I must clean up my room.
I must clean up my room.
I must clean up my room.

NTD

The weekend entertainment was especially rich up in Asheville. The Yard Dogs Road Show on Friday, then Mad Tea Party/Luminescent Orchestrii on Sunday - I feel that the cultural challenge for the month has been well met. I am suddenly sorry that in my misspent youth I neglected the opportunity to demand that my family enroll me in violin/ukelele and/or trombone lessons, all of which suddenly appear to be The Road to Cool.

Check out some of this music during the day:

www.myspace.com/luminescentorchestrii

www.myspace.com/themadteaparty

www.myspace.com/yarddogsroadshow

NTD

The Orange Peel Social Aid and Pleasure Club - a premiere nightspot in Asheville - has slowly begun tearing down their self-imposed wall of adults-only entertainment no matter who might be interested, and lowered the age limit for certain shows. For instance, several years ago, when the great Tell Us The Truth Tour made its stop in Asheville, there were many high schoolers who had been bussed in from points around the south, only to find that they had to wait outside while their adult chaperones got in to see Steve Earle and company talk and sing about this insane war that the Bush administration had recently entered. It was a great event, but I felt a little guilty since I was on the inside, and so many were leaning against the other side of the brick wall. I have always believed that, whenever possible, a venue should accommodate younger people - because music is powerful and should be shared with all ages (unless you're talking the late G.G. Allin, or the Genitorturers, or GWAR).

So tonight my seventeen year old daughter is in tow with Stewart and me to watch the Yard Dogs Road Show at the Orange Peel. After seeing several partial performances at Bonnaroo, I'm expecting great stuff in the full show.

NTD

Quote of the Day

I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day. – E.B. White

NTD

not-so-funny girl

I had determined to go for humor in my newspaper column this week, although the subject was to be named later. I read and read, taking too many breaks to check on Britney and my favorite bloggers and generally investing many hours yesterday on favorite movie trivia (I love you imdb.com!) and the usual Wikipedia fact-checking, which included Very Important Stuff like how many years older Paul Simon is than his wife Edie Brickell (25!). Then there were YouTube viewings of vintage Steve Earle and recent Ray Wylie Hubbard videos and, you know, I realize that it's a good thing I'm self-employed because any office cubicle co-worker could be led to believe that I am Wasting Time when in actuality I am doing RESEARCH.

But at 7 a.m. this morning I got up and wrote 958 very sober words on Blackwater shootouts and how much we pay the families of dead Iraqi civilians. The column turned out very well, but is a little short on humor. For some reason I regard myself as a funny person, but tend to gravitate toward the most serious subjects when it's time to publish.

Looking forward to turning my giggle box over again sometime soon...

NTD

God bless massage therapists. I have been prone to make fun of my second city - Asheville - and its endless proliferation of massage therapists, psychics, glass blowers and belly dancers. Add the trust fundies, the couch surfers and the pot dealers to the mix, and hardly anyone seems to have the sort of employment suggested by high school guidance counselors.

But for a full week my lower back has felt pretty good, and I owe it all to Evaa, the massage goddess who graciously bartered Indian tapestries for an hour of hands-on miracle working.

It is unbelievable to know that I could get a discounted bottle of painkillers through Blue Cross, but not a massage.

NTD