Girl Fix - Selma Gnificient Blair

Dear Santa,
I know it's already mid-December, and that it would require quite some time to manufacture one of these but, still, I want one for Christmas. Thank you in advance for doing your best, I deserve it.
Yours truly,

Lezliemac

Hey, who doesn’t want such a hottie under the Xmas Tree ? A piercing gaze under the misseltoe? I don’t have that many girl crushes (many = any number that’s over 1, right ?) but seing Hellboy II : The Golden Armies reminded me that Miss Selma Blair Beitner is one of them. And a rather undervalued one, I feel ! So my pseudo vaguely scientific half of a brain and I came up with a few reasons for this oh-so-illogical infatuation :

The piercing gaze

No X-ray glasses needed.

The oddness
What I like in Selma is her being slightly «odd». She’s got that unconventional je-ne-sais-quoi that triggers unspeakable things in me. It must be all these un-legally-blondesque roles :

Big Mama ain't got nothing on her

Super Baddass Firestarter Liz Sherman.
That chick is on fire (insert laughs)

The Girl-next-door Factor
Even when going undercover as ordinary, she just screams sexy. There's some kind of vulnerability showing on the surface, behind the stone cold exterior, leaving me wondering whether the lady is about to crack up with an endeering gentle smile or to turn into a vicious nymphomaniac..

Nerdy innocent biatch à la Legally Blonde

Miss Trailer-Park

The haircuts
Selma has the exquisite habit of changing hairdo as often as Shane hopefully changes her bedsheets. I will save you the endless pics illustrating the perfectness of her chameleon-osity, but one.

It's like Tegan and Sara without the twin ! That one screams dyke in my book ! Ok, it's wishful thinking. But still. Me likey.

Raaaawwwwrrrrrr

The Perfect Pin-up Pretty
Selma Blair knows her history and seems to pay obvious tributes to RIP Betty Page (rather impressively I'd add)

Be my bondage Queen

The Damn-she's-so-hot-I-just-lost-my jaw Factor
Errr, well. Selma also speaks, sometimes : "I'm a character actress. I don't bleach my teeth, I chain-smoke, I'm flat-chested, I don't mind being nude, I'm not precious, I'm pale as a ghost, I have crow's feet, and I believe I can play anybody.", said the bold and beautiful*. Now THAT's my kinda girl. Trashy, big-mouthed and who doesn't mind being in the nude...She also said somewhere/somehow (couldn't care less where or how) that she disliked the oddness in her, the one that landed her all those quirky parts. As if odd was antithetical with über-hot. I beg to differ...

Can I be the ghetto blaster?

Plus, would a non-hottie actress ever get her own doll?

My point exactly. Hot. That's my final answer. Oh, and there's that, too....

I thought so too...
Now that we collectively agree on the drooling, here's a little game for you. I came up with Selma Gnificient, it's your turn now. Come up with your own, kinky name for the dark eyed hottie...
The best inanity will win, erm… something really cool. [Selma Sturbation, Selma Taylor Is Rich and Selma Caroni I already figured out]

*On her career, Dazed and Confused via Just Jared

May the force be with you

Oba(ma) Wan Kenobi

Lame, I know, sorry...

Music Crush: My Brightest Obsession

Photo by Vinciane

Yes, again...I will not stop ranting, shouting or wittering on My Brightest Diamond, the best band in the universe, until every single one of you (yes, the whole 2 of you) tells me what they think about it. Shara Worden, lead singer, guitarist, composer & writer, is the beating heart of this shiny lyrical treasure. As mentionned previously, I had the chance, no, the privilege to meet and interview with this 5 feet-ish giant of a woman.

Early october, she performed a single (heartwrenching) show in Paris. Thanks to the kick-ass association I belong to (my buddies over at PopInGays), I was awarded 30 minutes with my own personal joy provider (nooo, not sexually, come ON, focus !). As petrified as I was to be in the presence of, well, my idol (let's face it, I'm musically in love with her), I still found in me the strength to open my little black notebook, turn on my phone/dishwasher/recorder and utter a few questions. To which she gracefully answered, in extended length, granting me while at it, with some of her special thundering laughter. Here, for your eyes only, is the uncensored full-length (and then some) Q&A with the magnificient Shara Worden.

Lez: Do you know if gays and lesbians love you?
Shara: I'm hoping for it, because then it's like you're a real diva..

L: Do you see yourself as a diva?
S: Well, I don't know but you always want to be awarded that !

L: So I take it you're happy to be back in Paris [last show was on her birthday]. It seems like there is something specific between you and French culture. Do you know why that is?
S: I feel there is a certain sensuality about French culture and a prioritization of beauty that I am drawn to. The music that I've been exposed to is often like looking through dark glass at something instead of looking at it like a straight photograph, it's more obscured, there like a shadow over it, or another layer. Certainly like Jean-Pierre Jeunet, his sense of humour and the sweetness that he'll find in someone, like a bubble. I guess I also romanticize it since I see the French culture from a distance and I don't know all the negative.

L: You're a bit [Edith] Piaf obsessed, who would you have turned to hadn't she existed?
S: Yeah who? Good question. As a composer I think Kurt Weil lives a little bit in the same world as she does. She's a kind of a bridge between the straight classical singer and the folk music singer, that gives music of the people. I love people who jump out of boxes and categories, that the ego really really loves to attach to performers. I love it when people really just refuse labels.

L: If you had to choose between classical/opera music and indie/pop music, which would it be?
S: I have chosen new music, so for me making something new and that is mine and being creative is the most important. I think the draw to classical music is because it is very much aware of its audience and has to play to their audience in a lot of ways. There is definitely an entertainment factor in classical music. To me there is something very pure about that kind of art for art's sake. But then, there's that as well in rock music ...
See, my favorite opera is Peléas et Mélisande by Debussy. It's a chamber piece that he never intended for the public. He intended it only to be for is friends because he thought people would be appalled by it. You know, they'll play it very infrequently at the Met. They'll do 6 shows and I'll sit through the 6 of them just crying, like [she mimic violent sobs] aaah it's soooo beauuutifuuul...

L: Is that what want people to feel like at your shows ?
S: I think but I don't know how to create that environment. What I know is how I feel so if I try to be in touch with myself and truly joyful or truly sad or just really in the present, with what's happening. Then again I don't really know when it is that someone's going to respond to something. Sometimes you don't what triggers emotions.

L: How are you going to transcribe the rich layered recording of the albums into a live performance, with a live band ?
S: Well tonight, it's just me and a string trio. No drums, no band. OK, the violinist also plays bass, he switches for 2 songs. And I started programming beats, for the solo tour, because I needed to push it up a bit. I'm certainly not a good drum programmer at all, but it serves the purpose. I'm not comfortable with it but I'm having a lot of fun.

L: Which one do you like better then, recording in a studio or performing live?
S: You know, right now, they're very equal for me. Before touring so much, it was really about the very internal process. But I really am finding that the music does very different things and I want to play very very different things than when I was by myself in my bedroom. In studio, you can create your dreams in a very isolated and controlled environment. I'm going to try bring recording and performing closer together. It's been a very interesting thing, this dichotomy.

L: So are you going to try different projects with My Brightest Diamond? Are you going to evolve towards differents things, like puppets or papier-maché ?
S: Oh yeah puppets ! [laughs] And papier-maché too, love it! I don't know how it's going to work yet but I'm really toying around with those ideas, like a puppet show and musical performance combined.

L: Have you ever considered drawing/writing/singing for kids?
S: I always gravitate towards children and children stores and all the operas that I love have got kids in them, you know like L'enfant et les sortilèges [by Maurice Ravel]. I think it's a place that I need. I think when you've suffered, sometimes it's easier to get in touch with your inner child and that childish joy. I think I have a hard time finding that as an adult. It's easier for me to connect with the joy that I had as a small person. Maybe, [she assumes a very melodramatic tone and posture] maybe I'll grow, as journey, on with this life. [cracks up laughing]

L: But do you still live in the same world as I do ? Because the records, especially A thousand Sharks Teeth, feel like they're in some kind of a bubble !
S: I think that those things are all in life and the songs just happen to be drawing them out. Because I'm actually so much in this world, for real! I think spirit is just as real as anything else. But it's so much easier for me to believe in the realm of imagination. The world operates so much around an ego framework that your values are based on what you do and who you are. It's all defined by the box in which I'd want to put you in, whether it's gender, age, status, sexual orientation. For an artist, it's how many people you can get in a venue and therefore have more clout or less clout. In the end, it's all very business oriented.

To relate that to the record and what it's all about, it all comes down to intimacy and relationships. It's abour feeling those places in yourself where you find a block within, that is vastly full of fear of being rejected. Yeah, that's it : if you were completely known, would you still be loved ? "Inside a boy", "Ice and the storm" and "Goodbye forever" are all about how can I be close and not be afraid of not being loved. It's something I bump into sometimes, and I think it's a very deep fear of human kind, really.

The other pieces are very much about death. Someone extremely close to me died and so half the record is about that. I think the music is discussing these very tangible, very real things, very real world physical, every day kind of things and music is a way for me of processing that. In a way, this record has been a catharsis and a way of helping me let go. It's like a therapy, it's a way of reaching for that. I believe spirit is so much bigger and wider and limitless, and that's why music expresses how we are or not just our bodies. It's an endless search. I'll let you know when I find something ! [booming laughter that I wish I could put down in words]

I think that's what music and art tap into, that thing that is somehow greater than ourselves. That's what I love in a show, the feeling that you feel suddenly more connected to the world than ever, you suddenly feel like *huge sigh*, this thing just happened.. I think performing is about accessing that place more me.

L: Have you noticed different reactions to your music, depending on where you are?
S: I guess I noticed it more on this last tour. I guess what I'm about to say is that the stereotypes I had have been complitely obliterated, which is really cool. The Italians, the other times I'd been playing, have been singing along like crazy. It was a singalong fest! Spanish culture is kind of very verbally expressive too. And ironically, the last show we played in Milan was like, total silence. And there was a lot of head cocking too. I hope it was more a "my God this is so beautiful I'm goind to die" than "I'm sooo bored" kinda way...It must be because of the back up string line-up !

[At this point, a production guy enters the room for a second to check on us. Like I was going to rape her, or propose or something. Politely taking my cue, I then told Shara I wouldn't be bothering her much longer. To which she replied ]

S: Oh no, please, don't! This is like the easiest interview I've ever had in my life! [Can you feel me gloat ?]. All this time, I feel I've gotten to say how I actually feel instead of doing backflips to meet a certain objective, which is really exhauting! In a lot of interviews, they ask me questions, like, "would you have My Brightest Diamond land?" and I'm like wooooo ok I'll do this. But I'm really jumping through someone elses hoops and 90% of interviews are like that. You have to learn how to be a politician, learn how to sort of side questions you don't want to answer and to not look like an idiot...But you, you're easy ! [no, not in that sense ! And gloating again]

L: So is avoiding or dodging questions something you do easily ?
S: No, I hate it ! But a lot of interviews tend to be formated. Here, I just talked for 30 minutes and haven't given you 2 minutes sound bites or clean answers. Which is what most interviewers are looking for.

L: One last question: do you have a My Brightest Diamond ringtone ? Do you see them as some kind of a sell out?
S: I don't but my husband [alas] does ! I really like the "Music Box" one. I think it was my idea actually! I sort of sold out for the other two. I think that the fact that people download records is undeniable. I am doing music with my life and it's not easy. To me, ringtones is something that's fun, it doesn't seem like too much of a compromise to me, in that if this is something that people are going to download for 99 cents. I'm still trying to figure out how to live. I want to do music with my life and my husband tours with me. We work real hard. For me, taking an add for an oil company is not something I'm going to do, but I did take a perfume commercial... I think it's Eau de Jeune or something... Ethically, I should have looked up, like, if they do animal testing, because that's something I care about. At the same time, I decided to do it because I unfortunately needed to. I do have to live ! I think that now is a time where we have to be creative, like at the merch table and on tour. I feel what people want now is to feel connected and buying a record, they don't associate that with having a personnal experience anymore. So from the business side of things, we're all asking ourselves "how are we going to do this" ?

I also need to figure out how to make money, when someone like me, when i find out what my budget is going to be, goes like:[she gets all frantic]"oh cool! Now, I can get a bubble maker, I can add another string player or a sound man...". But wait. I don't want to sound ungrateful or anything, because everything in life is hard work, I know that. But I also want to grow and it's sort of what life gives you. I have friends that have become huge superstars but they're really unhappy and are super super sad [think Sufjan Stevens, maybe. Just a wild guess]. They have people that come to their show who are loud and really disrespectful to their really beautiful songs. It's a lot of hard work, for a really long time, that all comes down to that. It's sad. Sometimes you work towards what you think you want and in the end it doesn't look like what you thought you'd be getting. I'm trying to be grateful and not panic about, you know, [in a shivering voice] "how are we gonna do this"?

L: Are you on the verge of panicking? Because you certainly don't look like it!
S: I have been. I've been touring for the past year and it's really tiring, being in a different place everytime. My relationships have all changed, my friends have really had to adapt to me a lot. I've lost many friends over it, which is intense. And that's ok but again it's a hard lifestyle. And on the body too. But in europe we get this amaaazing food, so it's all good. That's another stereotype. Except in the UK. The food is terrible in the UK.

Again, I think it's an oldschool punk idea that art shouldn't be used for any commercial purposes. I think that's amazing, because I don't believe music should be made for the purpose of commerciality. I'm not trying to get into a car commercial but that model of music, the one where you go: "Here, I made a record. Would you buy this thing that I made?" This model has just evaporated. So then how are you gonna live? Where does the source of income come from? It's touring, merchandise or a perfume commercial ! I guess it's ok, as long as I don't compromise what I do for it. And minor keys don't really sell anyways so... But I would take another commercial. Or maybe write for one, and that's a totally different story! We'll see where I'm at, next time I'm in Paris !


And that was it. 45 minutes during which my time stopped and I though "Hmm. I love my life. Yay me". After which, the sweet, doe-eyed Shara, seing that I was sort of crippled (remember? Single-shouldered) kindly offered to save me a seat in the front front row. Humble, funny, generous, gentle. Genius.

Because I can't post the audio here (it's mine. MINE ! My preeecious), to get an idea of her insane and communicative laughter, watch this, until the very end.

#16.3-My Brightest Diamond-Hymne...
envoyé par lablogotheque

More amazing MBD photos by Vinciane here.

Pricks on Parade : Palin got pranked

I hope it's the last time we ever hear from Caribou Barbie.
This one prank illustrates the frightening depth of Sarah Palin's lack of education, international experience and, well, plain ol' wits. Two Canadian comedians pretend to be French (jerk) president Nicolas Sarkozy. The Tina-Fey wannabe just dives head first into their bullshit and doesn't doubt one second the person she's talking to. What kills me is that she pretends to concur with whatever crap her counterpart is referring to, even when he is obviously not making any sense at all. Sarah, please, please go back to your mooses. With no gun.



And just because I can't get enough of Tina Fey, my favorite SNL skit of late. Tina Fey for President 2012.



Sarah, don't force the genius Tina Fey to leave Earth. Just go away. Shooooo, get back over there !

Music Crush: Ani DiFranco to you

Sunday night fucking blasting concert: CHECK
Once more, I give you the Ani D show. Damn, that woman simply rocks. It was only my second Ani gig and it got me as high as the first one. It's as good as any drug can get. Yes, there, you have it, I'm a music addict. For real. And Ani is my special candy drug. It's all jittery, jumpy, fun and twisted and melancholic at the same time. And freaking HILARIOUS too.

Ani, if you ever decide, for some silly reason (kids, husband, loss of a hand) to stop making music, I'll kill you. Or maybe just cry in despair for weeks the loss of a true riot girl, coupled with a modern era poet.

Little Ani awarded us with almost two hours (stupid curfews) of pure fun. She set the tone right from the start with a blatant Shy. There. Take that, fans. Pick up your teeth and sing. 10 seconds. That's all it took for the crowd to go bananas after recognizing the tune. Little side note here, where were all the lesbo ladies? I'm thinking they were all dressed up as lanky, hairy dudes, since I only spotted a few weird haircuts & leathers. Anyways. Forget about the new album, the yet worthy Red Letter Year, this one was all about the classics. Yep. Aside from 32 Flavours, the electrical-tape-fingers lady performed all my favorites amongst her 3 gazillions songs. She sparkled her never-out-of-fashion rants (hello, Napoleon) with a few tunes from Knuckle Down and Educated Guess (her most recent good stuff, if you ask me) and that was it. Flown by, the gripping poem Parameters. Gone, the sumptuous Grey - damn those concert fleas, they always end up stuck right under my eyelids, somehow making me teary, go figure... Ok, I cried (just a little). It was just too short, even with the (even shorter) encore. Ani left everybody elated with the easy and triumphant Both Hands and Gravel.
Easy, breezy, beautiful, Righteous Girl...

She might be 38 or something, this lady sure knows how to handle a picky audience. That would be the Parisian crowd to you. Parisians have a stick so high up their asses they look like flagpoles...Ani cracked jokes about her daughter, her shabby, falling-to-pieces boots and her gluing back her fingers together. She even self-interrupted on Imagine That because of the people's reaction to the lyrics. Here's a little re-enactment of that (since I didn't tape the dialog, it's a free rendition of the event...):

Ani:(singing) Imagine I'm at your mercy
Crowd: woohoooooo
Ani:(singing) Imagine you're at mine
Crowd: WOOOOOOHHHOOOOOOOOOOO (that's the crowd going hysterical, in case you have no imagination and/or are dumb)
Ani:(not singing, just cracked up) I knew it, I knew it ! I've been playing this song all over Europe and people just go "oh well, yeah, sure". But here! Nooooo, you LOVE that ! I'd been wondering what the French VS. American fuss was all about, but now I know, it's just that we're the same ! We're the same!

I personnally construe this as: French and Americans are equally deranged, aggressive and slightly masochistic. Having studdied both species up-close and personnal, I would say it's true and also toss in an unbecoming superiority complex.

Not only was the concert sublime, it was also educationnal. Thank you, Ani, for the exquisite rapture of your music, your insane guitar technique and for the inter-cultural, self-deprecating but fair insight. And for the pussy song...

Hamel On Trial - Pussy

Go to sleep a little wiser - Lez' scientifacts

Welcome readers, to yet another educationnal subject, because, in case you didn't know, I'm a complete dork. (Does that make me a lesbian Clark Kent ? We'll adress this topic another time.) Today, I would like to share newly acquired wisdom on how women's body work (my personal holy cup, my cookie jar, my motherland ...*wink*).

While I have almost recovered from my bed-related acrobatics, I still get to visit my gigantic homo physiotherapist daily. Today, as if walking around single-shouldered wasn't enough, I showed up with a really really unpleasant painful pain in my left knee (the right one is fine, thank you). So, willing to discover the mysterious cause for said pain, my faggy-physio (try saying that 20 times in a row...) set about reading my body. Yuuhuuh. Reading. He grabbed both my ankles (no cuffs involved, pervs, not this time), closed his eyes and, I guess, started turning the pages of me. That means getting vibrations or whatnots from the various layers of me (I'm an onion).

And out of the blue, he asked me if it was my time of the month. From my ankles? Really ? Unflinching, I answered, why, yes, it is the 22nd of October today ! Mister Physio then explained me how my uterus was talking to him ...(I'm sending him my next GF for crash training). But since an active vajayjay is normal for me (yes it is, zip it), he proceeded to further investigate my lower stata. And found out that I had some recalcitrant muscle somewhere below that needed fixing.

Then, and that's where it gets interesting, he told that women's hormonal activity had a tremendous influence on the entire body. Duh. Ever heard of PMS? But no. He meant more than just irrational, M.Hyde-like behaviors. Actually, all those hormones (things that end in -gen or -one, like oestrogen, progesterone, mascarpone..) partying while you're suffering and bleeding and being a giant paint in the butt, well, hormones render ligaments, sinew and other fibrous tissues looser than usual. Which could explain why you can get random sprains or twists at that time of the month. Yep. There. You're smarter now.

So next time, instead of mentally applying a fist impact right between your annoying colleague's little sweaty porcine eyes, tell him/her that he/she is lucky you can't smack him/her right now, because it would cause you to sprain your knuckles. And you need those. Then, carelessly add you also don't want to hurt your eyes by looking at him/her and walk away. Optic nerves are a fibrous tissue after all...

NOTE: I bet I'd use "fibrous tissue" on my blog. I won.

8 Against 8 - Let's get married!

Let's not make this a habit, but today, we are talking politics. More specifically, American politics. Even Californian politics. Yes, of course, what else could it be ? It's the ban on Gov. Schwarzeneger's speedos youth pictures ! No. Really, it's about the ban on gay marriage. Come on, unless you've been in hiding with Ossama Bin Laden for a year or so, you KNOW it has been overturned by the State of California's supreme court, so that Ellen could get yet another cover of People Magazine with Portia.

Well, that newly acquired right is threatenend by some proposition, namely the infamous Number 8 (you're a wanker number niiiiiiiine... Sorry, too much Lena Headey lately). Prop. 8, to be voted in November, would permanently define marriage as being exclusively between a man and a woman. We all know how well that usually goes.

So, some (8, to be precise) smart blogging ladies (my fav, Dorothy the mighty) have united to gather funding to fight the said restrictive proposition. They have set up a little diddely web page, 8 against 8, where everyone, anyone, you, can make a tiny (or very substantial) donation to help fight the evil Prop.8. These terrible eight aim at raising $8,000 in 8 days (October 20-27). It's for the good of mankind (or gaykind). So, if you like lesbians and gays (you like me, that's a start *ultra-brite toothpaste commercial smile*), help them/us not be second-class citizens in California.

Hopefully, if California gives gay marriage a go, other American states will too. And it will slowly contaminate France. Because it's common knowledge that whatever Americans like, our tiny president does too...

So go on, click, donate (even $5, that's hardly 3.75€, come on !) and help fight for our right to further develop lesbian bed death (sex gets boring after marriage, or so I heard). We gays also want to have the magical opportunity to pick ridiculous flowery outfits, get shitfaced in front of our entire family and feed each other disgustingly creamy cake ! (and then get divorced and fight over the cat's litter box...). So please, be kind, rewind and DONATE !

NOTE: I will not take any oh-my-credit-card-is-not-American-it-won't-work crap. I did it. Any dumb-ass can. Do it ! Pretty pleaaaase.

Warning ! Do not use for waxing.

Labels. Don't ever try to wax with labels, it just doesn't work. On that random note, let me explain the subject of todays banter. No thanks to someone up in a former British vacation resort (which they gave up, it was too cold and the people over there had the weirdest accent), I now have to publicly disclose 7 factoids on my oh-so-private self. I don't know what would happen though, were I to deny/refuse/ignore the unwanted mission. Would an anvil fall on my left foot while I got hit by a truck full of live but headless chicken? Would my garden be invaded by blood-sucking locusts ? I'll take my chances, I don't care. I don't even have a garden... Allright, I won't, I'll do the damn thing.

The rules of this annoying game are:

1. Link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog
(http://wrywriter.com/, aforementionned person living somewhere in mapple syrup country)
2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog - some random, some weird.
3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blog.
4. Let them know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.


I'll do the first 2 but since I'm ADD, I will have switched to dusting my cellar by the time I reach #3...Where was I? Eeerrmmm...aahaa ! Facts. Tadaaaa :

1. I love confusing American tourists on the Parisian Metro by helping them when they're lost. They won't believe I'm not really American (it's all about the accent).

2. I hate garlic more than Dracula does.

3. I sometimes misuse my ADD to my very own advantage (grin. What? Who? Hu? Oh, not that often...)

4. I cook without ever using a cookbook or a recipe, even desserts. Thus, people think I'm a good cook.

5. I only have eight toes in total, I'm actually a salamander.

6. I have interviewed the person I most wanted to meet on the planet and she told me my interview was one of the best she'd ever done. Shara Worden, last week, I'm boasting, I'm so proud, I know...

6. I once cried during a rock concert (actually on 4 different songs). Shara Worden, last week, not very butchy, I know...

I think I have to eat now. Or is it time to dust my cellar? Wait. Do I even have one? I can't remember. If you can read this, make me a sandwich. I like mustard. Did you even notice there was no #7 ? Now you are lost.

Wry Writer, I will have my revenge... Poutine is best served cold. I don't even know what that means but yeah I'll be back. Or maybe I'll be Sarah Connor...?
Or Lena Headey. Heh heh just because..

Music Crush: Queen Kaki King

I know it's old news but I'll spell it out for you again. Kaki King rocks. Or folks. Or whatever it is she's playing. I had the pleasure to discover her live in Paris last sunday, with a bunch of my friends. I had rather high expectations, given I own her 2 impressive albums and am pretty much addicted to anything music-related, concerts, CDs, guitars and straps (guitar straps that is, you perv!). Picture yourself in a tiny venue called "La Boule Noire" (the black cue ball, that's pool to you again, perv), at the bottom of Montmartre hill, with at most 50 people in there. Intimate is the first word that comes to my mind. The second one would be shalibelyblubelaaaaarf *thud*. Yep, that much. And that's without mentionning how cute Kaki is, edging on hot.

So, no opening act. Kaki can stand on her own tiny feet (not sure how many she has). After little waiting, in she comes, in the midst of misty fumes, courtesy of the clumsy (probably on drugs...) stage manager. After that, I just can't remember. I must have been hypnotized or something. I do remember exiting the place with my friends, some of them reasonably bored I must admit, but the concert itself is kind of a blur. Or a blob. Or something fuzzy and nurturing. Really, it was all very intense and a fantastic musical experience. Little Kaki (if she's over 5 feet, I'm Ani Difranco on a poney) and a dude, whose name I can't remember (and couldn't care less) performed for almost 2 hours. Tiny Katherine - Kaki is no real name, it's a fruit- handles her guitar in a very unique impressive way. I tried to follow her fingers, moving up and down the neck of her guitar at an incredible speed, but failed. It's like trying to chase a Porsche on an electric wheelchair. See for yourselves.

"Playing with pink noise"

And that's not even close to how impressive it is live and upclose. I got all dizzy from trying to follow, so I just laid back, or rather leaned back a little (I was standing). I let myself drown into the music, and oh my, what a trip! Thumping basslines with no bass, complex yet obvious melodies, rhythmic progressions that will leave you exhausted. And then some finger slaping and tapping. If you're no guitar player (or just pretend to be one, like me), her skills will deter you from ever laying hands on a string (guitar, not G strings, enough already). It's all just magical. She delivered without a sweat or a broken nail, sporting a deep, dark, gaze and a smirk on her face. Did I mention how cute she really is ?

The oooh-so-dark gaze

The smirky smirk smirk

Most of the songs, thankfully instrumental, are a testimony of her overpowering technique and self-taught virtuosity. Utterly mind-blowing. The only downside is that she can't sing, but still persists. Really, Kaki, stick to what you're good at. Please...In between songs, most of which were over 10 minutes long, Kaki casually sipped from her beer- she's no Amy, just a few sips, really. She also displayed the most appalling array of bad jokes I've heard since the last Tegan & Sara show. Don't get me wrong, I think those jokes were hilarious. Then again, I am infamous for my terrible jokes and lame ass puns, such as :

Speaking of the most famous twins of Lesboville, they must be friends with Queen Kaki, since they keep on cameo-ing in each others' work. Kaki played guitar on 2 song of The Con and there seem to be a lost Quin in King's latest, fancy still-frame video :

"Pull me out alive"

At some point of the show, she said the chair on which she'd been sitting was bothering her, and that she'd lost her mojo. I want to underline how irrelevant and out of place that statement was. Mucho mojo she has. She might say the contrary but she'd beat Austin Powers at any Girl-on-girl convention in a heart beat. She has much nicer teeth.

Nicer tits

Errrr, I meant nicer teeth.

Now, despite all that praise, one dumb question comes to my inane mind. Kaki King is an out lesbian, good for her. But for the love of fingers, how on earth does she twiddle around with her girlfriend with such nails ?

My Random For A Horse - Help Wanted

Albeit the flagrant inactivity on this poor excuse for a blog, I have been doing very much nothing with my time for the past two weeks. For that, I have that lame ass useless shoulder of mine to thank. Just because I'd decided to try a certain pyjama-endorsing martial art (with limited success, obviously), I am now rendered impotent and unable to perform the basic tasks and gestures of everyday life. I can't get dressed, do dishes, clean my place, carry groceries, type on a keyboard or have sex with more than one girl at a time. Wait. No. Too much information. Anywho. Work out, they say. It's good for you. Oh yeah, now I have a better understanding of what 'good' means.

However, my peculiar predicament has allowed me to discover the fantastic extent of lesbian generosity. And that of the straight ones too (I will not be deemed ungrateful, no, no, no). Being almost fully handicaped (What? Overstate? Me? Naaahh), many of a friend stood up for me, offering various services, help and a great diversity of liquor to help me cope with my situation. Out of sheer selflessness and friendship (I am here excluding the stalker who offered to massage my feet and other body parts daily), my friends have gone to great lengths to make me feel less miserable. Were I not so profoundly low-maintenance, independant and self-relying (and humble, too), I could have easily taken advantage of my poor-me situation. I could have asked them to fulfill a few of my fantasies, involving outfits, unrewarding chores and ambiguous positions. Like, say, some of the following...

Imagine, your own private nurse...Taking care of your every need, a nurse would pamper you, bathe you, and so on. Nurses are awesome because: they know ALL the drugs, they know how to tie you up in a bed, they are used to working long hours at night and because when you push the button, they come right away. Sorry, I know... And just because a nurse would now the answer to the following question.I'm not into killing-inclined-Daryl-Hannah like nurses, but I'd hire this one in a heartbeat. Shirley, I think I need a full physical.

Now, I know that having a personal housekeeper, a cleaning lady, a maid, whatever you want to call it, will be my first move as a rich person (one day...when the financial bailout fiasco is over). Because I hate cleaning. Because I'm lazy. And because, well, remember Leisha Hailey in that outfit, somewhere in season 2 of the L Word ?

(if anyone finds a decent pic, you know where to find me!)

Or that one (close enough, right?)

Of course, just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, well they did. It wasn't enough bad luck to be stuck with three limbs instead of four. [Note : Yes, I'm a girl. Therefore, I only have 4 permanently attached limbs. Most of the time.] No. My brand new woodfloors had to be ruined by a good flood. While I was admiring the high-heels-running technique of Gillian Anderson, out poured the water from underneath the kitchen sink. I immediatly issued an emergency call out to the Mario Bros in each and every one of my pals. Damn you, plastic plumbers, I knew I should have gone for the Polish one !

For now, my piping have been taken care of. Of course, no one was able to fix them the way Corky would have (at least wearing the same outfit). Alas, nobody's perfect... Here's to well-taken-care-of pipes.

I'll will not burden you with all the ungrateful tasks I've had my friends perform. Still, I'd like to send a big bucket of warm fuzziness to those who put up with my constant whining, cut my food and taught me how drunk-dance with one arm. Last but not least, I would like to thank my mother, my producer, my agent, my dog. Eeerrmm, no. Wrong speech. No. I meant I'll also be sending the goody bucket to those who saw past my not-so-well-hidden agony and kindly provided me with all-natural herbal painkillers.

Ladies and gents, I am forever indebted to you (or at least until I throw an incredible recovery party). Amazing, generous and funny, you know who you are, thank you.

How to drive girls crazy - Honor's class - The motorcycle

Not my level yet, but just because, well, you know...
I'd wear leather waders for a ride with her. On a tricycle...

How to NOT get girls 101 - The motorcycle

So yes, I have been slighty slacky on the blogging activity lately. But I have a good excuse, I only have one functioning arm right now. Trust me, single-handed typing is a pretty depressing activity, and much less fun than an X-Files marathon. Anyways, being partially incapacitated has given me plenty of time to think (too much, some would say...). I came up with a brilliant idea. Since it's something I seem to be pretty good at, I am going to share my wisdom on how to successfully NOT get girls. Not as easy as you think, no ma'am !

The first installment of this educationnal sequence is dedicated to a usually girl-attracting item: teh mightay motorcycle. So bikes are supposed to be chick magnets, right? Well that assumption is horsecrap on wry with pickles. I tried and all I got was heartache, public humiliations and a few bruises.
HTNGG 101, here goes :

The look - Nobody actually looks like that on a motorcycle. Unless you're suicidal, you will have to purchase highly expensive gear (helmet, jacket, gloves and other various underwater diving equipment). And it's not sexy. Not at all. Picture yourself getting off the bike looking like a highly armed flesh-eating robot. That sight will not trigger hords of ladies into jumping all over you (except the psycho ones, whom you do NOT want). Riding wheels usually has you looking like a complete dork and moving with the flexibility of an epileptic tinman. Very useful to NOT get girls.

The freedom - Riders are rebels, John Fonda said so. Yeah, right. And my ass is chicken meat (Note: that is a litteral translation of my favorite french expression. Learn my friends, learn...). Owning wheels does not set free. It actually ties you down more than anything. Financially speaking. You've got to pay for the wheels (it's usually credit or performing sexual favors on hairy married women). You also have to pay for insurance, pay for repairs and other malfunctions, pay for gas, pay for tickets and pay for bikini girls to shampoo your bike. Wheels don't make you free at all. Just ask the Fort-Knox style shackle that ties my front wheel to the closest dog-pooh lampost...Wheels just make you broke. Also very useful to NOT get girls.

The grease-monkey factor - As many a dyke before you, you watched Bound over and over because Corky was pretty hot fixing that sink. You also think Chloe Sevigny was damn cute in that white tank top, riding, with Michelle Williams clinging onto her boobs (If these walls could talk 2). Right? My point exactly. Mechanics are sexy (lady mechanics, that goes without writing). Women in overalls casually wiping grease off their hands, droplets of sweat driping on the side of their face on a dirty tank top. See what I mean ? Well that's another bubble I hate to burst for you, but owning a motorcycle does not make you a T-Bird. Mostly, well, because you don't have the faintest clue on how to change a cylinder head gasket. Neither do I. So you're pretty much stuck with calling your ugly balding mechanic for help every time your bike doesn't start. Which normally occurs when a group of very good-looking, single, sane and smart girls is eagerly staring at you, desperately trying to start your engine. Ridicule. Very useful to NOT get girls. This would never happen to Pink...

What valuable lesson have we learned today? Wheels schmeels.
Better own roller-skates and break a leg. At least some cute nurse might take care of my injuries...
Next on HTNGG: Being a musician

Music Crush: The OTHER Gossip Girl

The Gossip rocks. In case you're afflicted with memory loss or severe hearing impairment, you know who I'm refering to. The Gossip has been one the it-bands for quite some months now. The trio, now turned quatuor, has been shaking the rock planet with irrestible disco-punk tunes. It's blunt and sweaty. It's uncensored and induces irrepressible jumping/shouting/complete loss of control.

Loss of control.

As any self-respecting Gossip aficionada, I attended last monday's gig in Paris (my 20th concert, or close). And it stroke me once again how much people tend to focus solely on the incredibly talented Beth Ditto. Granted, she is an uncompromising punk version of Aretha Franklin, so talented and magnetic it hurts. There is no questioning that. However, I would like to pay tribute to the OTHER Gossip Girl. The awesome drummer Hannah Blilie. Hannah seems like the quiet type, in spite of the hoarse and heavy beats emanating from her bright blue drum set. Hannah has an enigmatic smile stuck on her face when she effortlessly throws overwhelming rythms at our ears. Hannah as a charming smirk and a pierced lip . Hannah has A LOT of very sexy tattos on her arms and chest (I have not been able to document other body parts...). Hannah is very sweet and accessible (she patiently signed posters for hordes of hysterical fans, when she just wanted a quiet smoke at the back of the venue). Hannah is the coolness incarnate. Hannah is very cute, bordering on insanely hot, especially with short, none-blond hair..See for yourself :

Enigmatic smirk. Sexy tatts.
Sweet. Cool.

Insanely hot.

But back to the music. There are not enough female drummers around. Not enough gay ones (not every girl with drumsticks is gay. No). Not enough gay female TALENTED drummers. In my humble musical opinion (ear), Ms. Blilie is really worthy of more praise than she gets. Albeit wiping dry her armpits, face, chest mmmm droool *thud* Where was I ? Ah yes, so. Without breaking a sweat, the lovely Hannah delivers a clever mixture of disco, rock and pop beats that will, on their own, turn people into muppets on crack. I witnessed how a crowd, patiently waiting on a set change, went completely beserk over a drum soundcheck (Eurockéennes de Belfort, July 5th). She can be simple and efficient. Yet she will deliver chiseled, elaborate drumlines with her arms folded (see Heavy Kross or Are U that somebody !). She's awesome and The Gossip wouldn't sound half as great without her. There. I said it. Hannah ROCKS.

Last time I checked, Ms Hannah had a girlfriend (ok my info is a bit outdated - more or less a year old- but couples come and go, don't they?). Still. In case that changed, Hannah, call me...

[Thanks M.Robert Gil for the pics]

Mullet Proof

As part of my on-going training in "People are weird, for real 101" class, I've lately travelled to a few European cities for scientific purposes. I have been given the priceless opportunity to witness how, indeed, really really weird people are. Latest example to date: Madrid.

My scientific experimentation was conduced over a period of five days, with a neutral non-gay assistant. The main goal of that field trip was to assess how efficient gaydars were in an international context. And obviously, not to spoil the results of it all, my gaydar sucks in Spain ! To better understand the variables taken into consideration, here's a quick reminder of what usually triggers a normally shaped gaydar when looking -no, not drooling, fairly observing- a girl :

a. Clothing: the subject of lesbian clothing is so vast it is taught in a class of its own. Still, you can't go wrong with rainbow suspenders, AniDifranco/LeTigre/Heart and other Tegan & Sara shirts. The "I love girls" logo is a decent hint also.

b. Tattoes and body art: naked ladies on forearms, "Tinay Fey is my homegirl" inks, eyebrow barbells and 4 or 5 rings on each earlobe are usually good news.

c. Shoes: skateboard shoes, tevas, birkenstocks, motorcycle boots, men shoes and shabby sneakers will often be seen on lesbo-feet.

d. Attitude: there are several types of behavior that usually betray sapphicaly-inclined ladies. You will easily recognize the careless cool looking-very-Shane-today, the all-out femme with winks and smiles and obvious breast shaking at other girls, the nerd-geek-dork proudly sporting Buffy and L-word merchandising or the rubgy playing bull-dyke.

e. Girlfriend/Lady friends: kissing/groping/humping another girl and/or hanging out with a bunch of all-out dykes is a solid indication of gayness

f. Haircut: depending on the era, there are typical haircuts that gay women use to identify one another (the crew-cut, the Natalie-Portman bald head, the oily-died bangs and the mullet). Usually, "weird hairdo" pretty much equals gay, if validated by any of the above mentionned element.

During my time in Madrid, I fully appreciated the variations in the scope of lesbianittude. I was able to identify and confirm most of the above-mentionned assumptions, thus confirming my ability to spot gay women in international surroundings. However, there was a confusing piece of data that rendered my usually-trustworthy gaydar completely inane : The mullet. The ultimate capillary aberration.

I don't understand what it is with Spaniards and mullets. Guys wear 'em. Kids wear 'em. Granpas wear 'em. And girls do too... I am presumptuous enough to think that gay women usually have a decent sense of fashion (usually), but lovely Spanish girls proved me wrong. They obvioulsy have a peculiar fondness for dreadful haircuts. Really terrible ones. Shaved on the side, long and curly on the back. Or grease-monkey top over a shaved and died sides and back. Yeurk. Enough already. I still can't believe my eyes for the range of frightful mullets I've seen.

Scientifically flawed as I am, I tried to analyze the situation through hypothesis. I came up with the following:
1- I understand absolutely nothing that is remotely linked to fashion
2- Spanish girls have a genetic disease that induces uncontrollable mullet growth.
I believe these two hypothesis are so obviously accurate they need not be demonstrated. Girls, seriously, get over the damn mullet already! It's HIDIOUS ! The 80's were twenty years ago...Mullets are to be made fun of (see below, the Liz Feldman mullet)!

So ladies, for Slash' sake, grow some proper hair !

Music crush: My Brightest Diamond

I'm in love. Shara Worden is my hero - yes, I have many, shut it..

She is the best thing that has happened to my ears since Jeff Buckley and L7. Before she was a shiny precious stone, Shara played hipeetee hop and other various instruments with fellow UFO Sufjan Stevens. Now she's on her own. And she's dazzling. I have no words to describe what her music does to my guts.

My obsession with My Brightest Diamond started in 2006 with the debut "Bring me the work horse". Then priceless concerts, leaving me absolutely breathless and even more infatuated. Now the new album, "A thousand shark's teeth" has been out since June 17 and I can't resolve myself to listen to anything else. The fantabulous Shara mixes with great maestria indie rock, smashing voices and childhood lullabies. If it ever were to be summed up into words, here's what My Brightest Diamond would read:

A voice so beautiful it hurts, combined with raw, tender guitars. Magnificent layers of strings and horn sections straight out of a Ravel piece. Uninhibited percussions and various odd glass bottles drumming . Songs draped in extraordinary poetry. Listen in reverence and shiver. Yes, swoon, quiver, tremble and die. In extasy.

I'm a sucker for voices but this one has rendered me speechless and stunned. And that's saying something. Shara's voice is soft, subtle, warm, cosy yet powerful, extreme and lyrical. Goosebumps. Every. Single. Time.

My Brightest Diamond is a dream-like trip in the world of a musical genius. It's a rapture-inducing glimpse at Shara in wonderland. It's a parallel universe of fairies, dragonflies, horses, lightbeams and boxing bass players. I think I want to move there.

Did I mention Shara Worden is pretty?

And sassy, clever, witty and incredibly funny? (See for yourselves at the next live performance near you. Which you should not, under any circumstance, miss)

Do yourself a favor. Indulge in the ultimate musical gem. Go! Now! I bet my French accent you won't regret it.