I really had no interest in being thought of as beautiful. Anyway, perhaps because I'm going to be a year older very soon (April 15th!), I'm able to embrace having my picture taken while I'm still considered young. All of this craziness has left me with little time to write.
However, I finally put my blonde butt to work on my novel after a friend contacted me with a very interesting photograph he took. Here it is:
From right to left, what you see here is a Valentine's Day card, a mixtape, a letter, and photographs of myself when I was 15, 16 at most. These are all artifacts that I sent to the first boy I ever had a crush on. Nothing ever became of this crush, he was a lot older than I was. We were good friends. I'm so happy that he kept all of this stuff. It was really amazing to get this picture and an e-mail from him. Thank goodness my first crush was not wasted on some jock who would have used my cards and letters as a coaster for his beer. Only later to throw up on all of the tokens of love I created for him. Growing up a little strange was the best thing that ever happened to me.
So let's move on to some music. I went and saw The Big Pink and A Place To Bury Strangers on Wednesday night at the Mod Club Theatre. I couldn't stay for the entire Place To Bury Strangers set, I had to work the next day. Ugg. Anyway, both bands were amazing. I had a great time, and my ears rang for two days after. I love that. The Big Pink.
A Place To Bury Strangers
I've been listening to The Ramones non-stop lately as well. This may or may not be happening because I am giddy & girly over someone. I want you arrrrrrrounddd.
I saw Floria Sigismondi's The Runaways recently. Very impressed. The film embraced everything we love about band films: energy, youth, excess, female empowerment, sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll. The focus is on three dynamic personalities: wild child Cherie Currie (Fanning), the lead singer; androgynous ringleader Joan Jett on electric guitar; and the band's Svengali, Kim Fowley (Shannon), a record impresario whose attire reads neither male nor female. This focus makes sense creatively but also legally as the producers never secured life story rights for other band members. The film is loosely based on Currie's 1989 memoir, "Neon Angel: The Cherie Currie Story." That book, however, delves more into Currie's drug addiction, one-film movie career and downward spiral than it does the Runaways. Jett, by the way, is the film's executive producer. The film steers pretty clear of the more salacious side to the Runaways' reality. It doesn't linger long on the two teens' sexuality, expressed with both sexes and with each other. Instead, Sigismondi rushes back onstage for another performance or plays Runaways music over the film's many montages.
I also didn't find Dakota Fanning or Kristen Stewart annoying in any way. In fact, I think I like both of them. A lot. The most moving parts of the film are when director Flora Sigismondi captures Jett's vulnerability and how she's just like us, only she's the one holding a knife. Stewart nails Jett's hunched gait and plays tougher than the leather get ups her character sports. But when Cherie gets fed up with Kim Fowley and says goodbye to the band, citing a need to be with her family and get her life back, Jett whispers, "This is my life" and we believe her. Not because we have the benefit of information that Jett went onto enjoy a hugely successful career fronting the Blackhearts, but because Stewart gets that point across. Odd, I know.
The film captures the gaudy, yet loveable decor and style of the '70s, from the polyester rugs to the flashy silver eye makeup the girls wear. The movie allows your inner rocker to live vicariously through Jett and Currie, Stewart and Fanning. It made me want to go out and get a Daisy Rock guitar.
Here is a clip from the movie when Jett & Currie meet.
We'll finish this off with a Runaways video. I Love Playin With Fire.
xox
Lianne Spiderbaby