Phew. That's better.

Anyway, I'm standing in line at the store, and I am looking at the impulse buy selection. First, I see the diet drugs (not just the new pants-pooping version, but also a couple of the old herbal speed kinds). Then, of course, the candy. (Hmmm.....what could they be hoping people will do? Look at the candy and the diet pills, and think if they get both that they'll cancel each other out? BLARGH!) After that comes the caffeine pills, to support staying awake in a high stress job. Then, melatonin, so you can sleep after taking the caffeine pills. After that, there are some protein bars (i.e., pseudo-healthy candy bars), and then....the magazines.

People was, surprisingly, not too bad (though generally I abhor that whole celebrity obsession industry) - the main event was called "Love Your Body: Work with Your Shape." Fuck if I'll buy the magazine to see if it was *really* about loving your body, or if it was more like a thinly veiled fat hate-o-rama....but it seemed at least superficially positive. Then, I get to the National Enquirer....

I know. This rag is the worst of the worst, the lowest of the low. It encourages the crack-pot nosey fucker in every mouth-breathing jackass who can read English, crossing all borders of race, class, and religion to unite the people of the world under the banner of entitlement to gossip. It turns my stomach even when it's just talking about Elvis' alien baby.

Today, it hit an all time low. The *entire* front cover was plastered with pictures of women, talking about how they're all "packing on the pounds." There were four or five actresses and musicians, all named and called out, accompanied by supposedly "incriminating" pictures of them in all their fat-ass glory. "Kelly Clarkson adds 32 pounds." "Barbara Streisand gains 18 pounds." "Kirstie Alley gains the weight back - from size 6 to this?!"

Jesus Motherfucking CHrist!

Here are women who have created art - granted, not to everyone's taste, but I'd say few could deny that they are artists in their own ways. These women have done some amazing stuff - Barbara Streisand is a goddamned legend. Kirstie Alley, before she sold her soul to Jenny fucking Craig, was one of my favorite comic actresses (Hello, "Cheers"??). Kelly Clarkson....well, didn't she win some singing contest before she landed a couple Grammys?

None of that matters, though, because they've all got fat.

Hey, National Enquirer? FUCK OFF.

Okay, so THESE are awesome. I am so sporting one of them the next time I play for the ol' folks.

Speaking of, I've been back a few times now, and I genuinely enjoy playing at the home. It's low key, and I get to rock some fun covers and folk tunes (plus "Amazing Grace"), and I really dig older folks. They're fun to me. I love the perspective. No time for bullshit.

Well, except the one lady who thinks if I was skinny I'd be a rock star. Hell, she could be right, but still - scew that!

Anyway. Last time, it came up that I play a lot of sad songs. And it's true. I write and play a lot of sad songs. What can I say? Life hasn't given me (or anyone else, for that matter) a crapload of inspiration for happy tunes.

But...well, I'm resolving to try to write some happy stuff. Or to dig up some happy covers in time to play for the next time. I don't want to be a downer to the old people.

Hey, if you're in Chicago or the vicinity any Friday, you should come to Cups on Kedzie. I'll be there, playing some awesome bluesy folk rock. Seriously.

Don't make me beg.

Recent entries...
27 December 2007: 2007: Finis.
17 December 2007: A ruse, a rant, and a poem. It's short.
11 December 2007: Music & falling....story of my life.
08 December 2007: Briefly...ish.
29 November 2007: A poem, a rant, a lesson.