I think it did. But I’ll tell you what doesn’t suck: Sia’s music video for “Elastic Heart.” I know this one has gotten more than its share of attention, albeit mostly from those who consider it either pedophilia or pointless absurdity or both. But that’s some mishegoss, because while it is absurd, it is certainly not pointless or pedophilic. I thought about writing about it in depth, but Erin Keane at Salon said everything I was going to say already. I almost joined Twitter solely for the purpose of messaging her, “Erin: you are SO RIGHT. But can you tell me now how I can stop myself from watching the video for the 700th time in a row?”
I’ve heard people say that it’s about Sia’s relationship with her father, and Sia herself said it was about “two warring ‘sia’ self states.” I like the latter explanation better. A folie a deux occurring inside a single person. I keep coming back to the idea of Ziegler as a kind of dancing id, something feral and composed entirely of instinct. Who is Shia, then? Unclear. But $20 they met in AA.
If you’re doubting me on the Freudian thing, check out the video for “Chandelier,” and then get back to me. So if we’re being teleological here––and why WOULDN’T we be––that makes LaBeouf the ego or the superego. Something is swirling around in here (the video, and my brain, which are kind of one and the same thing at this point) about the perils of doing things because society TELLS you to, like pose for publicity shots. Who knows this better than a former Disney slave? Oh SIA YOU CLEVER SONGBIRD YOU. I’m seriously looking for someone to recreate this dance with me (I call Ziegler’s role.) Oh, and Maddie, if you’re reading this: you’re a true artist. Don’t let reality TV destroy you.
Dear Jenna Lyons,
I have this polka dot shirt from J. Crew (a few seasons back) and I really think it would be cool if you made a version like the below:
copyright ID
With one GOLD polka dot! All I ask for is a shirt from the first batch. You’re welcome!
Love,
ID
I woke up in my sleep last night because in my dream, I got shot in the foot. I was driving through Baltimore at the time. Shoulda known better!
More on hotels: apparently the Burj Al Arab Hotel in Dubai ranks #28 on CondeNast Traveler’s Best 100 Resorts 2014 list, but frankly, I think it looks TERRIFYING. It’s like Kubrick does political interior design. Also, I could make soooo many jokes based on this little review, but I’ll spare you.
Again, I’m strengthening my resolve in this new calendar year to focus on the big projects rather than the essays that pop into my head all the time. As William Styron’s daughter said of her father’s depression, he felt not comforted by the masterpieces he wrote, but hounded by the little pieces he had never gotten around to, “that they were like little beasts and he had watched them turn their backs on him and walk away.” But I’m thinking, perhaps better to let them go than try to hold tightly to their leashes as they sprint toward the horizon?
So Internet, you’re welcome for this idea: a follow up to this New York Times article about travel blogger Meghan McEwan, who recently bought a very pretty house in the utterly magical Leelanau Peninsula in Michigan intending to turn it into a B&B. Some things to cover in the article: do virtual dreams fail to satisfy? Does critical expertise translate to practical know-how? Is the Leelanau Peninsula the next big thing, or should we never speak of it again so that it remains untouched and pure? Does she know where Mario Battali lives? And so on.
You know what, fuck this––if any editor is interested, lemme know. I can make time for it, depending on how many expenses you cover.
KM: I’m really emotional
KM: I must be getting my period
KM: When I was watching SNL the other night, there were so many poinsettias on the stage, and it just looked so pretty that I started sobbing
KM: actually sobbing.
Hey guys,
I’m working on a research project––totally legitimate, connected to a big macher in academia––that is requiring me to watch a lot of Anwar al-Alwaki videos and read Tumblrs of teenagers who’ve fled to join ISIS. I am not, repeat NOT, of this persuasion, like at all. Just wanted to let you know.
xxx,
ID
PS Would a wannabe jihadist really be using a yiddishism? Doubtful!
Upon reading a review of John Lahr’s Tennessee Williams: Mad Pilgrimage of the Flesh, I came across this infuriating little piece of information:
“Even after he died in 1983, alone in a sour, pill-strewn Manhattan hotel room, he was mocked. In his will he had stipulated that he wanted to be buried at sea, his body thrown into the water at exactly the point in the Gulf of Mexico where the poet Hart Crane, his hero, had jumped off a ship and drowned. Instead, his brother had him buried in his hated hometown, St. Louis, and tried to make a tourist attraction of the grave.”
According to my most favorite website ever, Williams is buried in section 15A of the Calvary Cemetery and Mausoleum in Saint Louis. I propose we go over there, dig up his body, drive it down to the Gulf and fulfill his last wish. Who’s with me? I’m particularly looking for people with strong arms, poor senses of smell, and grave robbing experience.
Itinerantdaughter's Blog 