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I'll be reading Growing Up with Tamales for story time at Blue Willow Bookshop, in Houston, on Thursday morning, May 15. Tell everyone you know with kids in the Houston area. How do you find and support local indie book stores like Blue Willow? By going to Booksense.

On Saturday, May 17, I'll be in Dallas, reading and signing at the J. Erik Jonsson Central Library, for the 13th Dallas Children’s Book Fair & Literary Festival.

On June 22, here in Houston, I'm going to do a poetry workshop. It's free and open to the public, y'all, and they're having one every Sunday in June, taught by local poets I love and respect. So come on down.

Monday, December 03, 2007
A Plainclotheshorse

Sometimes I want to tell y'all what I find at the thrift stores, and maybe post pictures of my finds, but then I don't, because I've realized that I like pretty boring clothes.

Today, for instance, I am wearing black pants, a white shirt, and a fuchsia silk cardigan ($1.91 with orange tag markdown). And black loafers. And no jewelry, because I forgot it. And that's pretty much about as exciting as my wardrobe gets, unless I bust out a dress or the knee-high boots or something.

The other day I found a brand new pair of brown, unembellished, Unlisted loafers at my second-favorite thrift store, for $6.97. I found one of them on the floor, and I searched the store until I found its mate. And I was so ecstatically happy. "I should take a picture of these and put them on my Flickr page!" I said to myself. Then I realized how underwhelming a picture of brown loafers would be.

Oh, well. I'm still happy about them.

But, if you'd like to see something semi-exciting, go on over to my Flickr page and see that paintings I did to go above my fireplace.

The YouTubes and the CSSes and the BloggerWriters and the InterWebs

I feel kind of sad about the fact that I haven't posted anything on YouTube yet. I feel un-Web-pioneer-y. I even have stuff to post -- two or three readings and lectures I did that people were kind enough to videotape for me and then make DVDs for my use, to post on YouTube as I'd promised I would. And I haven't yet done it. I even have the video editing software on my computer. I just haven't had time to get it done.

Other information highway merge lanes I haven't had time to drive on:

How do y'all web mavens have time to do all this stuff? Is it because you do it as a career? Is it because you don't have 28 kids, like I do? Are you doing it at your day jobs? Are you tricking high school students into being your web content interns? Help me, ObiWanKenobis. Tell me your secrets.

It just takes time, I guess. Maybe I can do something on the web, next time I feel like painting a bunch of birds and hanging them up above my fireplace.

Weekend Adventure: Farmers' Market

One of my kid's friends spent the weekend with us, which was all the excuse we needed to conduct weekend adventures. We dragged that little boy to the Asian grocery store to see the live frogs and purchase cha siu for the fried-rice feast my boyfriend later cooked. We dragged him to a park that we'd never seen before, and that park ended up having bison and pigs and emus, oh my! We sought out a new (to us) carniceria, next door to our second favorite panaderia and ate a fabulously traditional Mexican Sunday breakfast of tacos, pastry, and insanely spicy hot sauce.

After we dropped the boy off at his home, my boyfriend dropped me off at my favorite thrift store for a few hours, which is always a very exciting adventure, for me at least. (Three skirts in gray and taupe! A light blue button-down!) Then we reconvened at Empire, which is the best coffee house in Houston.

(Please don't write and tell me that Brazil or Dietrich's are the best. They aren't. Empire is. Sorry.) (Just kidding. Feel free to tell me which is your fave, and why. I always want to know y'all's fave restaurants in Houston, okay?)

Best of all, though: We went to the farmers' market on Airline, which neither Tad nor I had been to since we were children. The Airline farmers' market is, as my youngest son put it, a "fleamarket of food." Their restrooms are nastier than those of the nightclub #s. But still -- they have beautiful fruits, vegetables, spices, and herbs for dirt cheap. We're going back again very soon. Every single week for the rest of our lives, maybe.

I've been meaning to tell y'all this for weeks now...

I no longer like Billy Joel's music.

You know why? Because, the other day, I heard a song of his I hadn't heard since I was a kid with snot running down my nose and no sense of what was happening in the world. That song was "Big Shot."

Here is the chorus and two verses of the song:
Because you had to be a big shot, didn't you
You had to open up your mouth
You had to be a big shot, didn't you
All your friends were so knocked out
You had to have the last word, last night
You know what everything's about
You and to have a white hot spotlight
You had to be a big shot last night

They were all impressed with your Halston dress
And the people you knew at Elaine's
And the story of your latest success
Kept 'em so entertained
But now you just can't remember
All the things you said
And you're not sure you want to know
I'll give you one hint, honey
You sure did put on a show

Well, it's no big sin to stick your two cents in
If you know when to leave it alone
But you went over the line
You couldn't see it was time to go home

What the hell is this guy's deal? The narrator of this song is mad at some chick because... why? Because she talked a lot? Because her friends were "knocked out" and "entertained" by her stories? Because she wore an expensive dress?

Maybe I'm just reading way too much into it (as I will sometimes do with lyrics when I'm in my van, listening to the radio during my 1.25 hour commute), but it sounds like the narrator just can't hang with women getting attention. Maybe attention that he feels is rightfully his?

Read those lyrics, then consider the lyrics to "Uptown Girl," which Mr. Joel presumably wrote later:
Uptown girl
She's been living in her uptown world
I bet she's never had a backstreet guy
I bet her momma never told her why

Uptown girl
You know I can't afford to buy her pearls
But maybe someday when my ship comes in
She'll understand what kind of guy I've been
And then I'll win

Watch out, uptown girl! Don't do it! Don't marry this backstreet guy, because every time you want to have a little fun with your friends or dress up a little or tell anyone about your accomplishments, he'll ridicule you and your white-bread world. Then, years later, after he's erroded your self esteem, the two of you will divorce and then he'll replace you with a younger woman too meek to hold her own on a cooking contest show!

Just kidding. Heh. I'm sure Billy Joel is a very nice person, and his song narrators are no reflection of his own views on women. I just like to listen to music and make up funny little stories for myself when I'm alone in my van.

When I was a child, I memorized lyrics without thinking about them. I also liked Billy Joel and hated Bob Seeger.

But now that I'm older, I can't help but think about lyrics. Do I want to listen to songs that say "Ha, ha, you rich bitch, I did donuts on your lawn with my motorcycle," or lyrics that say "I had sex with a rich woman in Hollywood and it was awesome, and now I'm an old, worn-out cliche of a rock star and I only have myself to blame"?

Or do I want to go back to my old favorite, with lyrics that say "It seems like we really hate women, but then again, we did steal most of this music from black musicians nowhere near as famous as us"? Now that Led Zeppelin's having a little comeback, I mean.

Silverfish, silverfish! It's Christmas time in the city!

I decorated our Christmas tree (Douglas fir, $17 at Lowe's with $10-off coupon) last night.

I'm not even going to tell y'all about the all-new holiday trauma tradition we started, which involved the whole family and the meticulous slaughtering of the silverfish that have been breeding in our garage, in the boxes that came over from our apartment more than a year ago, which contained all our Christmas ornaments and decorations.

I'm not even going to tell you about it.

Suffice it to say that tree is up, the garage is clear, and my children will grow up with beautiful holiday memories -- the strains of "Deck the Halls" intertwined with the dulcet tones of their mommy's voice, screaming, "There's one! KILL IT!" and "Bang it on the floor until they all fall out!" and "Because I gave birth to you, that's why!"

Beautiful. Priceless. You're welcome, kids. I love you, too.

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6:04 AM #

Comments:

 Billy Joel writes the most idiotic lyrics. Check out "All for Leyna" or "She's Only a Woman," or ANY of his other songs. I think he secretly is a dumba*s. He should at least know enough to let other people write his lyrics. But his music is good (usually), so just tune the words out.


# posted by Anonymous Anonymous : 11:14 AM  

 I never thought about Billy Joel lyrics until today, but I think you are right and he might kind of be an ass. Honesty, Christie Lee, Leave a Tender Moment alone - they all kind of point to Assdom.

I memorized lyrics without thinking of them as a child too! It wasn't until I was an adult that I had an "aha" moment where I finally realized what it meant that the Big Shot had a spoon up her nose. As a child it just kind of seemed like that would be painful.


# posted by Anonymous Anonymous : 1:29 PM  

 You are on an incredible roll! I wish you'd submit that Billy Joel piece as an essay to some pop culture magazine. It is too hilarious.

I think Billy Joel was just doing his best to be thorough and consistent in his adoption of Italian-American street culture. Being a Jewish boy from Long Island probably didn't feel macho enough.

Also, Gwen, I love the sound of that classic outfit you thrifted! And I'll look at thrifted brown loafers any day.


# posted by Blogger Marigoldie : 1:51 PM  

 Aw, hey now. Don't bag on my Billy.

Great post all the same :).


# posted by Blogger tina : 2:02 PM  

 I always thought the big shot song was about a women who was all coked up and talking and talking and talking. It was the eighties, after all...


# posted by Anonymous Jank : 7:33 PM  

 I never took the song big shot as him being jealous of HER getting the attention.

I always heard it more along the lines of "I'm embarrassed to belong to the same species as you after the way you acted last night"......

She was whacked out of her mind and that mouth was running out of control spewing ever bigger and bigger lies as the night progressed.

Kinda like the kid in eighth grade telling all his buddies about swiping the keys to Dads car and joy riding all night Friday, eventually the story gets so big that he was popping wheelies in third gear as he out ran 50 police cars and caused two police helicopters to crash into each other!

Truth is he sat in the driveway listening to the radio and the song Roxanne by the police was playing at the time........



I hear that same sad sorta feeling, "if you could only see/hear what an ass you are making out of yourself".


Thrift stores ROCK! even though as a kid I was sad and embarrassed that most of my school clothes came from Salvation Army and Goodwill stores.

I did get two brand new Sears, Husky, Toughskins jeans each year, but Mom didn't wait for me to wear out the knees..... first thing after washing them she applied those huge iron on denim patches over the knees both inside and out! Then she stitched over them too be certain that the patches didn't fall off.

They looked like old recycled clothes before I even put them on the first time!


Mike in Ohio


# posted by Blogger Ðµdë §téè£ : 9:43 PM  

 First, at least you wear some variety. I can't buy anything that isn't black. I look like a 36-year-old woman who thinks she's still trying be cool by being goth. (I don't care about cool, I care about slimming.)

Second, did you really have to bring up #'s bathrooms? Now I'm nauseous.

Third, I have silverfish! WTF? Why and what and how and ... ?

Natalie


# posted by Blogger T : 1:35 AM  

 I'm with Mike in Ohio! The Big Shot lady is coked out of her miiiiind.

- A in New York


# posted by Anonymous Annie : 7:06 AM  

 I like to shop at Thrift stores to find presents for people and various things. I can't fit into a lot of the clothes so I don't usually shop for those there.


# posted by Anonymous Fluffy : 10:44 AM  

 Years ago, I used to like going to Brasil on Wednesdays, when they had Mooda Faruka and that gypsy band playing. And they would blowtorch the creme brulee in front of you. Then they got rid of the band, and every night was filled with late 20's business-y people "slumming." Dietrich's was good back in high school, and then their coffee started to suck. Empire's a great place, and I love their ravioli. I'm kinda pissed that I can't find a place like it, or even like Hollywood, anywhere in Manhattan.


# posted by Blogger Rowen : 10:46 AM  

 I love Bear Creek Park - one of my favorite places to visit when my son was very young. Great place to walk, too...


# posted by Anonymous Anonymous : 1:08 PM  

 Gwen, I would rather you paint pretty birds and hang them on the wall rather than fiddle with your blog's design or any of those other things. Writers don't need to be Web-pioneer-y. They just need to be good.


# posted by Blogger J. : 10:20 PM  

 "Big Shot" is definitely about a coked out chick.

"You had the Dom Perignon in your hand, and a spoon up your nose."


# posted by Blogger Kel : 11:29 AM  

 Everybody who said Big Shot is about a chick on coke: I completely agree that she's on coke. But that, in my mind, doesn't negate the assholery of the song's narrator.

Everybody who likes Billy Joel's music: I do, too. My fave is Just the Way You Are. Second fave is that Bosom Buddies theme song.

MG: Your insight into Joel's ethnic appropriation cracked me up.

Ohio Mike: Your story burns. Yes! What was with our parents making us look even poorer/sadder with their clothing "improvements"? You gave me a flashback to having to wear loud, yellow socks with my too-short jeans, then having my grandmother say, "They don't clash too bad. Just put a yellow scarf in your pocket!" Sure, Grandma. Why the hell not? Or how about a yellow sign around my neck that says, "I am obviously poor! Please make fun of my clothing!"

Natalie: Those restrooms are nasty, but you meet the most interesting people in them.

Silverfish like humidity. They eat paper, cardboard, and fabric. When you step on them, they turn to dust.
Also, they are of Satan.

Rowen: Mooda Faruka!! We saw them at Hermann Park a while back. They had a flamenco dancer who fascinated my teen son to no end. And it is a crying shame that there is nothing Empire-like in Manhattan. That shatters my image of it.

J: What you said was seriously one of the most comforting things anyone's said to me in weeks. Thank you.


# posted by Blogger Gwen : 4:14 PM  

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