I’m a huge sucker for catchy mainstream music and every once and a while I find an artist that I’m really excited to hear more about. Dan Black is signed to Polydor / A&M and creates a culture clash of soul, hip hop, rock and electronica.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q5irnmaJTWU&hl=en&fs=1]
Happy New Year!!! Looking forward to a bright 2009!
I was introduced to the work of Joan Didion while living in Ventura about two years ago. If you have been reading my journal since then, you have probably realized that I use the phrase “dreamers of the golden dream” or the like to describe many of my entries. ”Some Dreamers of the Golden Dream” was the first essay that I read by Joan Didion that has stuck with me since. Along with entries about current projects and work, I tend to write about (and am also fascinated by) the decisions that people make, particularly in growth and rebellion to mainstream society (or forcing themselves into the corporate world.) Slouching Towards Bethlehem is a collection of essays by Didion that cover similar topics and I see a lot of myself in her writing.
Though I just started reading the entire book (rather than just the several essays that I have already read), the conclusion of the preface stood out to me and I thought that it would be good to share:
“I am bad at interviewing people. I avoid situations in which I have to talk to anyone’s press agent. (This precludes doing pieces on most actors, a bonus in itself.) I do not like to make telephone calls, and would not like to count the mornings I have sat on some Best Western motel bed somewhere and tried to force myself to put through the call to the assistant district attorney. My only advantage as a reporter is that I am so physically small, so temperamentally unobtrusive, and so neurotically inarticulate that people tend to forget that my presence runs counter to their best interests. And it always does. That is one last thing to remember: writers are always selling somebody out.” (Didon, xiv)
There is a city that casts the shadows of a quiet surf town, but sounds of never ending corporate development. It does not home a Wal-Mart yet (or any massive stores for that matter) besides an occasional Trader Joes or Whole Foods. The community organized co-op market parking lot is full of energy saving cars and bikes. The main street is lined with quaint cafes that serve vegan options and fair-trade coffee. Many of the stores have a seal to declare themselves as a “green business” from the local government. The walls of buildings sometimes act as canvases for the local artists and the local farmers gather once a week for a farmers market that seems more like a carnival.
I walked down main street during the summer and found myself talking to an immigrant from Iraq who opened a storefront of authentic Iraqi area rugs that were worth more than my entire bank account. As he showed me the different rugs and told me his family history, I could do nothing but full in love with the artistic complexity of such a product. Before I left, he pulled out his guestbook and asked me to write my name and number down to invite me to special parties that he hosts at the store.
A few moments later, I found myself in another store with used books (an Edward Ruscha book caught my eye from the window) and expensive clothing made from fabrics of origins that are far beyond my knowledge. They sold soaps and cleansing products that are natural and handmade. The salespeople wore laid back clothing with intricate Indian designs and canvas pants.
Worn down beach-style houses lined the streets that acted as tangents (or alternatives) of the mainstream lifestyle. Owners of these houses often struggled to afford the land that they lived on. They lived there, however, because of their love of the lifestyle – the idea of being a free agent by the ocean. Two, three or four jobs kept the fence around the house and the surfboard under the arm. Between every three or four homes, however, was a newly constructed mansion that was being built by an entertainment industry executive. Storefronts on street corners were slowly turning into Starbucks and fast-food joints were making their way to town.
I’m not sure how life will change as the city develops. There are few places in the nation, nonetheless, that compare to my home before Boston. I wish I could have captured a photograph to illustrate such a complex city. This does not exist in the northeast (though it has its own qualities) and made me realize how much I admire California.
I never grew up surrounded by this and instead lived in a suburb of the big city. We received the traffic and smog from the city, but got very little of the glory that it casted. I only got small glimpses of the “high-brow” lifestyle and was never taught to dislike fast-food and sweatshop clothing. As I have matured, however, I have become more aware of my morals and ideals. I am as conscious as a nineteen year old can be and always strive for better surroundings. I guess moving away from the westside of Los Angeles made me realize just how special it is.
Favorite Albums of 2008:
Top 20 Played Songs on iTunes:
After a week long – much needed – vacation to Maine for Thanksgiving, I spent three days in Boston and hit the road again. On Wednesday, I ventured down to New York for a shoot with Peter Cincotti, a singer on Warner Bros. Records, for his new album, East of Angel Town. We walked around the city, found our way to the New York Stock Exchange for a tree lighting ceremony that he performed at and headed back to the Warner Bros. office to film a more formal interview.
I spent Friday with some good friends from Warner at Michael Buble’s sold out show at Madison Square Garden. Since the show was being filmed for an upcoming DVD, I spent most of my time in the director’s trailer filming behind the scenes and watching the massive production come together.
After the show, we headed over to the after party where I was forced into a photograph with Buble. It was cool meeting him and his show was a lot of fun to watch. I’ll conclude this entry with the humorous (and I think, extremely corny) photograph for your viewing pleasures:
I walked softly with a friend, glancing back and fourth at New York City traffic as I uttered my fear of lacking a best man at my marriage. This seemed unheard of and quite ridiculous at the moment. He acted confused, as expected, as I have many other things that should be much more of a concern. Our adventures tore this thought out of my mind and gave me hope to believe in. It gave me assurance that my decisions have been positive, for once, to my growth and future.
The first semester at Emerson College is coming to a conclusion faster than I thought it would ever be. I have three semesters of college under my belt and more experience than anyone I know my age. At a point a month ago, I saw myself falling behind. In order to get myself together, I distanced myself from those whom I care about most. It seems entirely unnatural to throw away those that you care about so much, but I seem to hide myself before I make mistakes or open myself up too much.
Those that know me best understand that I tend to disappear when I get confused or extremely busy. I am one to keep my problems to myself (or express on paper) before I call for help. I have learned to be much too macho to express feelings other than happiness.
I promise you that I’m not a pessimistic person, but I’ve already admitted that fear does exist in my system. I have made mistakes and let people down. I really have every intention of being the best friend possible, of being the first person that you go to talk to, the person that you go to when you need company and the person that you go to when you need a laugh. I have let some down, but one of the greatest things that I’ve learned about myself, is it isn’t hard for me to get back up.
I am facing my biggest fear in apologizing – to be assured that I’ll know a single person for the rest of my life.
