I should open my eyes and understand that the iPod is a chain-smoking long-hair that craves exactly three (3) things: chicks, cigarettes and METAL, in reverse order. The iPod hangs out in the smoking section and takes your girlfriend to the Maiden concert. You big fucking pussy.
(the patriarch)
Perusing some old photos on flickr, I couldn’t leave this one. Check out that crinkled face. Doubting, much?
call of the freaks is an album by a contempoary band. I doubt I’ll listen to it as much as my cab stuff, but it’s worth it just for the versions of rigamarole and . These two songs have prompted my willie bryant passion… unrequited passion.
Cab Calloway (vol2) 1935-1940 on JSP
That’s some hot shit. 4 discs of Cab goodness. Almost every single song I’ve listened to so far (starting in 1940 and working backwards, for a change) is danceable, and every song rocks. I love this man. I love his kick-arse band during this period. Oh, this is SWEET.
…this is the second set from Cab on the JSP label, which is cheap, but better quality than the Proper stuff. I also adored the first one, Cab Calloway the early years, 1930-1934.
Ok, so I’m hitting another period of crazy productivity. Look out supervisor.
Today I finished off redraft5.2 of chapters 2 and 3. I had had some concerns about chapter 2, but I think I fixed it, even though it meant cutting out a sweeeeet section on the relationship between jazz and dance in the 20s and 30s.
That was really just a long-winded way of my describing the way improvisation is contained within social/community structures in African American vernacular culture. I’m using this as a way of describing how the introduction of new ideas and ideology and self-expression/representation (‘difference’) is managed by community/social/discursive structures in African American vernacular dance in a productive and creative way. In contrast, contemporary swing dance culture in Melbourne marginalises difference by discouraging improvisation, innovation and the representation of self by the emphasis on formal classes, rote-learning and routines. The bit I’m really interested in is how media figures in all this – how do AV media do this? How does DJing do this? And of course, what role do dance schools play in this? Finally, how does this sort of marginalising of difference work as a capitalist tactic, particularly in developing a market for commodified dance (ie classes)?
That’s my thesis right there.
But I do take time out in each chapter to look at resistance to and transgression of this marginalisation of difference. In chapter 3 I look at how women might do feminist work in partner dancing by doing ‘black’ switches; leading; solo dancing. In chapter 4 I consider… well, I’m not sure yet. I’ll get back to you. Anyhoo, I read this resistance as the utilisation of African American dance discourse themes/tactics/practices (eg improvisation) by contemporary swing dancers. Which is neat, because Af-Am dance was all about resistance, particularly in the pre-emancipation era and on into the 20s and 30s.
So it’s all going nicely. Tomorrow I wrestle with chapter 4 (AV media), then I meet with the supes on Thursday. I’d actually like to leave that meeting til the following Thursday… I’ll see what I can do.
Friday I will try to do chapter 5, but I don’t know – I have to DJ on Thursday so who knows how productive I’ll be on Friday. Anyway, I’ll finish off chapters 5 and 6 by the end of next week. Hopefully I’ll be able to go back through and make it all hang together. Chapters 2 and 3 are totally tight – the bestest best friends. Who knows what 4, 5 and 6 are doing. And the conclusion? I doubt it’s go anybody’s back, at the moment. But I trust 1 is ok. Just rough-edged and not really smoothing the way for the rest of the homies.
The Squeeze dreads these periods of insane, obsessively-compulsive productivity. Mostly because they’re followed by the inevitable crash as I wind myself tighter and tighter, tiring myself out with longer and longer hours. Hopefully I’ll get through redraft 5.2 before then.
Every now and then I catch and episode of SouthPark and it makes me laugh and laugh and laugh.
Pony jokes, Radio Head and Cartman’s first pubes. 10 out of 10.
It’s so cold in my room that the paper is steaming as it comes out of the printer.
Ah, I do so love the smell of freshly printed next-to-last redrafts.
I want this (Mills Blue Rhythm Band 1933-34 (chron. classic)) SO badly.
Everyone else has it, I have to too.
Then I want this (Henry Red Miller and his Orch 1929-30 (JSP)).
And to be absolutely clear, I also want this (The Band Don Redman Built – McKinney’s Cotton Pickers (RCA).
All scratchy, all the time.
In the spirit of practicality, I think I’m going to declare Saturday or Sunday gastropod day, seeing as how we only eat crappy food on Friday nights. This time it was an awful ‘middle eastern’ chicken and cous cous dish which I once knew how to cook but now, obviously, can no longer manage.
Thank god I followed it up on Saturday with an easy ‘Moroccan chicken’* dish which was delish.
Basically, you grate up some ginger, crush some garlic (however much you dig), chop up an onion, fry it all til the onion is transparent, then add an overflowing tsp of ground cumin**, 2 massive tsps of ground coriander, 1 tsp paprika, fry for a minute or til it smells good, then add some water, stirring or whisking to get the stuff combined well. Add some chicken legs and cook for 20 mins. Then pop the chook legs in the oven for 20-30mins (til they’re done), simmering the wet stuff on the stove top til it thickens and reduces. Plop the cous cous on the plate, pop the chook on top, stir some fresh parsley and coriander (I add quite a lot as I really like this bit) into the wet stuff and serve immediately (rather than dropping the herbs on top – this way they flavour the wet stuff nicely) with lemon wedges and fat olives. And a salad of greens, mint, tomato and cucumber with an olive oil/lemon juice/garlic dressing.
ROCK the kasbah!
*I’m not quite sure what ‘Moroccan’ means in this instance, but heck.
**That’s pronounced ‘kew-min’ in our house, thanks. None of this ‘kumm-in’ rubbish.
how much chicken? as many drumsticks per person as you can manage. That’s eleventy for me and 0.5 for The Squeeze, who is revolted by meat on the bone.
how much water? ti it covers the chicken.
what’s reduced? when the wet stuff is thicker, and there’s enough to wet the cous cous on the plate properly, but not drown it.
how do i make cous cous? now you’re scaring me. put some in a bowl. take it out and rinse it in a sieve til the water runs clear. put it back in the bowl. cover with hot water, stir. let it sit til it’s absorbed. stir with fork. if the grains are soft, rock on. if not, add a bit more water. or follow the instructions on the box. or google.
how do i make the salad? get a recipe book, or get a CLUE.
The Squeeze has declared that there shall be no:
on the tram. I’m not sure how he plans to enforce this, though I’m sure mimi smartypants could offer suggestions as a fellow PT stooge.
I, on the other hand, never seem to notice these PT crazy people, mostly because I read a book so I can tune out and not hear anything or anyone on the bus (which is why I don’t see the point of ipods – a book is far more interesting and effective a crazy-person deterrant). Or else I ride my bike.