On 11/24/09 at 9:45 pm, a commercial airline pilot in the Cordova area was looking to the north at departing air-traffic from the Memphis airport, when he saw what he described as a diamond-shaped craft pass directly under a CRJ-200. This pilot who has asked to remain anonymous said the jet was flying at about 8000 feet and the Unknown flew under it at an approximate altitude of 6000. The pilot said the UFO was on a flight path from east to west and traveling at somewhere between Mach 1 and Mach 1.5. He said that it was banking slightly to the north-west as it flew under the jet, so he got a view of its underside. He described it as a perfect triangle with dim white lights at its corners and about 200 ft across, easily as large as a 747. Though it was somewhat hazy in appearance, he said he saw it distinctly enough to make out that it was a solid body with the lights attached. It had no stobe lights and was totally silent. He observed it for about 20 seconds until it passed out of sight.

This man has been flying all his life and is very knowledgable about airplanes. In his report to the MUFON CMS files, he concluded by stating that this sighting left him feeling numb. When interviewed, he admitted that he was still shaken by what he had witnessed. When asked if he experienced anything else strange or unusual in the immediate aftermath of this sighting, he mentioned that one hour after he saw the UFO, a helicopter flew directly over his house at about 3500 ft. altitude coming from the same direction the triangle UFO had been heading when it departed. He said this helicopter had no lights on it! This is in serious violation of FAA regulations, especially as this was within a fifteen-mile radius of the Memphis airport.

After reading this story, I start adding the facts, 9:45 is very dark. If he was in Cordova looking NORTH, he would not be facing airplanes departing from the Memphis Airport, he would be looking in the Bartlett, Brunswick area, the airport is southwest, from Cordova you can only see planes to the WEST. He mentioned speeds of Mach 1-1.5 and said the object was 200 ft across, Cordova is 24 miles from the Memphis Airport. Anybody that know Memphis understand what I’m talking about. You cannot see airplanes flying around the airport from Cordova, you cannot get measurement of objects flying around Cordova, you cannot see any kind of air-traffic in Cordova/Wolfchase looking north, Bartlett and see air-traffic in Whitehaven/Graceland. Results – FALSE.  What Do You Think?

Where on earth do I begin? This all started as me, a young 17 year old American going to see a woman I admire and turned into this crazy event hah I’ll start at the very beginning.

My dad and I arrived at the Barnes and Noble at 11 pmTuesday evening. There were 2 tents in front of us; we were probably number 15 or so in line. It was a chilly evening but I enjoyed some good conversation from several Palin fans. We talked about Obama, Palin and just some other stuff. We sat outside in the cold, bundled up until 5:30 am. At that time they ushered us inside where we had to sit outside the B&N entrance until 7am. We received our bracelets at 7am and were told if we’d like to be guaranteed to see Palin we should remain in line all day. So I did.  I was not about to lose a chance at seeing Sarah Palin after sitting in line out in the freezing cold for hours. So I sat, and sat… I read some of her book and then the media circus began. I spotted Norah O’Donnell and Andrea Mitchell right off the bat and couldn’t believe they were there.. I mean I thought they hated Sarah Palin. I thought Sarah Palin had no impact, she was a nobody yet they send their 2 big guns to cover her book tour..but I digress.

There were 3 young girls-college aged who arrived first and they got tons and tons of interviews. After the media covered them they started walking the rope line. One by one I saw them interview people left and right of me. The day went on and then we were given the warning- 1 hour til she arrives! We were told the only thing we could bring in was our book. If we had coats they had to remain on. So I figured it was going to get hot in there with all us people crammed so I took it off…who knew that move would land me all the media buzz it did. I knew they went after people who were all decked out but I did not think my t-shirt would get much attention. I was first approached by a New York Times writer who wrote what my shirt said and then asked me a couple questions. She asked me what it was I liked about Sarah Palin. I said, “As a young female she is someone I can look up to, before her the only prominent female in politics I had known about was Hilary Clinton, whom I respect don’t get me wrong, I respect her but when you don’t agree with someone it’s hard to really look up to them. I like how Sarah Palin will speak her mind, regardless of what the media will say about it.” After that I just stood in line eagerly waiting for Sarah Palin to arrive. I then see Norah O’Donnell approach a man all decked out in Palin garb. She asked him a few questions (camera not rolling) then said she’d like to have a woman in the shot. She asked a woman who refused then pointed at me and said “Hey talk to her” So I walked over. I knew I was walking into hot water with MSNBC- thought I was prepared….Seconds later I met her… One of the many faces of liberal media bias. She asked me my name and then before going on air asked me why I liked Sarah Palin, I repeated what I told the NYT reporter. Norah didn’t seem to like that much. So what did she do? I mean she couldn’t ask me that question on television, heaven forbid her not have a biting response.. I noticed her look down at my shirt then, she turned around blackberry in hand spoke to a man, thumbs tapping the blackberry (I don’t remember if she called or not, she may have. But she was on her blackberry), then jotted down a quick note. Little did I know that note would be used against me. She told us she’d be walking up to us. You know like she just stumbled upon us. The shot began… I kept telling myself answer her question well, don’t freak out. Well, I thought she’d ask me the same question. She asked the man beside me (who by the way is NOT my dad) the same question she had before we went on air. Myself on the other hand, not the same story. She had me read my shirt and then proceeded to ask me “Did you know Sarah Palin supported the bailout” to be 100% honest I was like, are you kidding me? She is trying to use my shirt against me. I was so shocked by the craftiness she had that I was truly stumped. I asked her where she got her fact and she read her little note. Then she asked me what I liked about Sarah, and I talked about the Constitution. Immediately after the interview I said to my dad “Oh man, I have so many great responses now about my shirt” I could have said, well my shirt doesn’t say anything about Sarah Palin supporting the bailout or “Hey Norah, have you read the book? She talks about how during her debate prep she was handed a list of note cards that had questions and ‘non-answers’” Of course they told Sarah Palin to support everything McCain did. Call me crazy but it would have looked pretty bad had Sarah Palin been against something John McCain was against while they were running together. Norah also claims I told her I voted (on her twitter). That is not true. She never asked my age or if I voted. I’m 17 I couldn’t have voted…and I don’t live in an ACORN district so I didn’t have a chance to even register illegally. Making that statement by Norah completely false.

Well, the interview was over and it was time for me to meet Sarah Palin. We were taken upstairs and stood for about a half hour. And all of a sudden, the music began playing. “Red High Heels” by Kellie Pickler started blasting; I thought it was a perfect song. Then off in the distance I saw Sarah Palin make her way to the table. Before I knew it there she was. My dad went ahead of me and Sarah welcomed him by saying “Well, hey there sir how are you doing” and being the goofball he is said to her “I’ve haven’t been this excited since I visited Graceland.” Sarah responded “Oh thank you so much!” He also told her that the girl behind him was his daughter and that I had just been interviewed by MSNBC and would’ve made her proud. Sarah smiled and said “aww well good we need that!” I was up, it all happened so fast I didn’t have much time to take it in. But to my surprise she added my name when she signed my book. I’m going to back track for a second, when we arrived we were handed a pink slip with rules for the event and one read “There will be NO personalizing of books.” That is why I was so shocked. She looked at me and said “Sweetie, what is your name?” I told her and watched her sign my name in the book and then hers. I told her “Thank you so much.” and she said “No, thank YOU so much!” She was so kind and personal. She looked me directly in the eyes and looked so happy to see everyone. And just like that it was over. I had met the woman who had inspired me to become interested in politics and is one of the huge factors in my interest for learning about our countries great history. Meeting Sarah has been the highlight of my senior year so far, that is for sure!

So today. I thought about my interview and thought there was a slight chance someone; somewhere would pick up on it. Never did I think I would be featured on Glenn Beck, Bill O’Reilly, Hot Air, Associated Content, Media Matters, Newsbusters and the Fox Nation. I found out about Glenn Beck because during school I have my twitter updates turned on on my phone and I check them in between classes. After 3rd hour I looked at my phone and click on a tweet and it said that Glenn was airing my interview. After school, I went to work; I left my twitter updates on just to see what else might happen. I got tweets about Newsbusters and MediaMatters while at work. When I got home I began looking online and kept receiving tweets and the more they came the more surprised I became. Then as I’m sitting at the computer I get a TweetDeck notification alerting me of an @ mention, I clicked it and I read “HOLY CRAP YOU’RE ON O’REILLY” luckily I had it recording because I knew Sarah Palin would be on, but really I was stunned O’Reilly showed it. I’ve been sitting at the computer now for a couple of hours now reading articles and comments and I even got to see video from Glenn Beck’s radio show of them discussing it, which made me laugh hysterically. It was not the first time I’d been mistaken for being much younger than I actually am (still get offered a kids menu).  It was nice to see/hear someone like Glenn Beck defending me. I will clear up some of the stuff he said about me. I am 17, the man next to me was not my father and I cannot stand Miley Cyrus. He was right, however, in 2 areas. I do attend a private school (parochial-Christian school) and my dad is a Bible thumping, gun toting man. I wish I could have thought quicker on my feet for that interview and threw it right back into O’Donnell’s face but I was caught off guard I had no time to think clearly, you can also add in nerves of being on live television for the first time. That certainly did not help.  

In one day I met a role model, and met the liberal media and their crafty schemes. I fell prey to liberal bias, but I’d like to think I did an okay job. We always want do-overs, and I can assure you if I had a do-over with Miss O’Donnell you’d see a much more prepared (well rested) and ready to go at it side of this 17 year old. But unlike Norah I didnt have my note cards with me. I was forced to think on the spot and answer a gotcha question. Her goal was clear, make this teenager look like an uneducated Palin supporting buffoon. To liberals, and the 5 people who watch MSNBC she succeeded. To conservatives, she was the only buffoon during that interview.

Here are some photos from the event:

Andrea Mitchell

 Norah, Right before the interview

 MY BOOK!

some links to check out: http://www.thefoxnation.com/media/2009/11/19/msnbc-grills-young-girl-line-palin-book-signing

http://newsbusters.org/blogs/mark-finkelstein/2009/11/19/norah-odonnell-breaks-out-prepared-notes-debate-palin-fan

http://newsrealblog.com/2009/11/21/17-year-old-girl-blogger-3-nbc%e2%80%99s-star-reporter-norah-o%e2%80%99donnell-0/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+newsrealblogfb+%28News+Real+Blog%29

http://redstate.com/e_pluribus_unum/2009/11/20/msnbcs-norah-odonnell-picks-fight/

http://www.weeklystandard.com/weblogs/TWSFP/2009/11/teen_palin_fan_ambushed_by_nor.asp

http://hotairpundit.blogspot.com/2009/11/msnbcs-norah-odonnell-grills-young-girl.html

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KF5iQQ2JIK8

http://mediamatters.org/blog/200911190032

Seems that these days that everybody is a singing judge. The South African rugger board has received an official apology from the French for this slightly wonky rendition of their national anthem by reggae artist Ras Dumisani.

Firstly, get over it. It’s just a song. Secondly Dumisani is South African so really you should be demanding an apology from yourselves. And finally, listen to your own team. They’re hardly Ladysmith Black Mambazo. I don’t remember Schalk Burger featuring on Paul Simon’s Graceland.

Dumisani is gaining the usual cultish following on Youtube. Word is that for his next trick he’ll be laying down a two-step beat and bodypopping his way through the Haka.

Paul Simons “You Can Call Me Al” aus dem fantastischen Album Graceland von 1986:

[Danke an Krille! Remember MUC-FFM-Autotouring ]

We continued watching the moose for a few more minutes with him continuing his lack of concern for the orange box-car parked nearby.  Paul commented, “Dude, he loves the Element.”  The horned creature acted as if Honda Elements were commonplace in these parts.

A field of Mountain Elements grazing upon the grass.

Paul’s theory of the moose’s affection for us was soon proven when a car of tourists, seeing us parked roadside, decided to pull up behind to see what we were looking at. As they came to a halt, the moose turned and ran back into the vast abyss of evergreens. 

“Damn terrorists,” Paul grumbled as I started the car, back up, and veered onto the road.  With the sun setting and our buzzes dying, we decided to begin looking for a good spot to pull off for the night.  After passing several inlets, Paul spotted a sign pointing left with the notification “Lake 2 Miles”.  We decided to check it out, thinking that a night next to a lake sounded like the perfect finish to our day.  We pulled onto the road and commenced riding up a winding path for several miles.  Along the way we spotted various hiking trails, but none of them signified whether they led to the lake or not.  After about 10 minutes, we found ourselves at an intersection with the highway we’d just ridden on earlier.  No sign of a lake anywhere! We decided to pull a u-turn and head back toward the main entrance.  We weren’t sure if we were allowed to camp in the area without a permit, so we needed to find a nice sheltered spot to hide the car.  One of the trails featured a wider entrance, making the perfect parking spot for concealing the Element from those pesky park rangers.

Orange is the new Camo.

We decided to search for the lake in the morning, with sun-down approaching.  Instead, we headed into the woods to find a place to set up camp quickly.  We walked for a while until we came to a creek.  I suggested we camp there, right next to the calming waters, but for some reason Paul insisted we cross the creek to camp on the other side.  When pressed for why we needed to add the headache of trying to cross the water, he had no answer – yet he refused to back down on his idea.  To avoid a pointless argument, I gave in, following him along the creek’s bank in search of a crossing point.  After walking some distance, we finally came upon a log that reached from one side to the other.  Watching Paul balance his way across, I couldn’t help but wonder, “Why?” Was it the added sense of adventure? Or was he disagreeing with me just for the sake of it? Whatever his reason, moments later I was clumsily moving along the log. 

...and we're doing this because?

Once over our first obstacle, Paul settled upon the “perfect” spot to set up camp.  Soon after we had the tent assembled and a fire a-blazing. We sat down upon a rotted log with beers in hand and beans sizzling on Paul’s new frying pan.  We began discussing the culinary arts, as a matter of fact, with me telling him about my recent obsession with cooking. For most of my “adult” life, I’ve lived on a diet of grilled chicken breasts and Lipton rice packets, with the occasional bowl of mac and cheese thrown in there.  But over the past year my cooking exploits became an exercise in curiosity, experimenting with various meats, spices, and sauces.  It all started with me working through Steven Raichlen’s “How to Grill” methodically, vowing to try every recipe and every cut of meat (my friend Justin LeSieuer swears by this book, and after tasting his masterful grilling on a past road trip, I had to learn the secret of his craft). 

For some reason, this best selling writer uses the same horrible picture with the blotchy eye on all of his books and grilling products, a fact that irritates me to no end.

When I became bored with Raichlen, I began recording Rachel Ray episodes, and eventually subscribed to her magazine.  My girlfriend always accused me of having a crush on Rachel, but I swear to this day that I love her recipes and the fact that she’s a lush (although I do find her raspy phlegm voice sexy). 

"For today's recipe, you're going to need a jar of my signature phlegm marinade."

Like a couple of old hens, Paul and I sat by the fire exchanging recipes.  As I was expressing my annoyance at the lack of lamb meat in Texas meat markets (all they sell are baby goats and pig intestines) Paul interrupted me abruptly.  “What was that?!” Shocked, I grabbed my mag-light and shone it into the shadowy woods.  “I saw something moving out there. Something big………anyways, what were you saying about lamb meat?”

 Despite his attempts to move on with our conversation, I pestered him with questions.  “Did it look like a moose? An elk? A bear?!”

 Growing annoyed, he tried shutting me up saying, “It was nothing.”

 By the time I finished my last sip of beer and entered the tent, I couldn’t get the vision of the monster shadow out of my head.  For the next two hours, I laid awake, watching the shadows along the tent walls and listening to the rustle outside my door. 

Eventually I did get to sleep, but awoke moments later to my tent falling apart all around me.  As you can probably imagine, I was pretty flustered, feeling for the door, and un-zipping it to see what had caused my tent’s demise.  It seemed one of my stakes had come out of the soft dirt.  For some reason, I couldn’t find the errant stake, despite the help of my mag-light. How could a tent stake just disappear?! 

 After 10 minutes, I gave up my search and put my tent back up, using a broken branch as my stake replacement.  Once inside, I quickly fell back asleep. Unfortunately, I had a nightmare.

  In my dream, I was sleeping in my tent (imagine that), and a little wood elf snuck up, giggling and attempting to steal another tent stake.  It was at this point in the nightmare where I’m not sure what was real and what was imagined. The whole thing seemed so vivid, yet, had to be my imaginings.  In the dream (or in real life) I opened the tent quickly, in hopes of alarming the wood elf, but found nothing. I’m sure my mind conjured the entire scene from my yearly readings of “The Hobbit” with my students, with Bilbo and the gang being taunted by the disappearing firelight of the wood elves. I continued hearing the giggling for the remainder of the night, but never did figure out if it was a dream or not.

Who needs an elven-sword when you've got a plastic tent stake.

Thanks to my restless night of battling with a pesky wood elf, I was wide awake by six.  With Paul still resting, I grabbed my ghetto copy of “Fellowship of the Ring” and began reading the prologue, a special added bonus with my 50^th anniversary edition.  In it, Tolkien rants and raves for a dozen pages about all the haters trying to find holes in his books.  As much as I enjoy his books, Tolkien seems like a curmudgeon. The fact that he insists that there aren’t any metaphors or symbolism in his books is bullshit.

 Once I could hear Paul moving around outside, I emerged from my tent and began helping him take down camp.  We never did find the missing stake.  I decided I would have to be creative the rest of the trip.

Once everything was packed, we headed back toward the car.  When we came to the creek, I crossed the log once again, while Paul decided to strip down to his second-hand Army underwear to get a morning wake-up.  While he acted like a crazy man, hooting and hollering in the water, I opted to adhere to my own wake-up call in the form of a Starbucks Double shot.

 Back at the car, we decided to take a quick morning hike in search of the lake.  Plus, we hadn’t showered in four days and were both beginning to smell musty.  We unpacked our bags and grabbed what we would need for our hike.  I unhooked one of the attachments off of my Army pack, a small bag that doubled as a fanny pack.  I filled it up with bug spray, sun-screen, camping soap, my I-POD, and my book.  I was already seeing the perks of having such a versatile pack.

 We found a path located near the entrance and decided to give it a shot.  It had to lead somewhere! We followed it, leading us downward into a valley of green.  40 minutes later, we still hadn’t found any signs of a lake.  We decided to climb up onto a nearby rock ledge to get a better view of the area, and as expected, could seeing nothing but miles of trees.  The lake remained a mystery. 

Frustrated and sweaty, we decided to back-track and take one of the paths that connected to ours.  Re-treading the same path, I found my surroundings monotonous and decided to put my ear-buds in.  Needing a pick me up, I decided upon Paul Simon’s “Graceland”, an album I’d purchased only a few months earlier, deciding if I liked Vampire Weekend so much, I should at least own the album they ripped off. 

Although my new found admiration for Simon could have been due in part to "Flight of the Conchords" Simon and Garfunkel episode.

The African hooks and hollers soon had me picking up my pace, eventually even passing up Paul who always leads us when hiking due to me being a slow-ass.  I relished the album’s intricate beats and found myself obsessively focusing on the bass-line in each song.  Seriously, the “Graceland” bassist puts Les Claypool to shame, with its strange sounds that resemble both a tuba and an instrument from Tatooine.

Paul Simon and his new band are currently working on their new album "Spaceland".

Once on the off-shoot path, we walked for another 30 minutes, which flew by thanks to Paul Simon and his African marching band, leading the charge.  At one point, I passed a married couple, probably in their 50s, huffing and puffing as I passed, the first sign of human life all day.  A little further up the way, I halted to look back on Paul, finding he had stopped to talk to them.  I removed my ear-buds and walked all the way back to hear the last bit of the conversation with the woman answering Paul with, “Lake? Ha! The lake dried up years ago.” Paul and I exchanged looks of frustration and thanked the couple for their help.  With no pot of gold at the end of our trail, Paul told me to follow him off the beaten path; he had an idea.  After a small jaunt through the wild, we emerged to find ourselves at the edge of a raging river.  It was a surprise because I hadn’t heard the splashing water due to “Graceland” blaring in my ears. 

 I walked along the river’s edge a bit and found the perfect bath tub, an inlet of calm water, safe from the raging waters of the river. 

 Feeling dirtier than ever with the fresh sweat forming on top of the dried sweat of days prior, I quickly stripped down to my grundies.  As I neared the water’s edge, I decided I didn’t want to hike all the way back to the car wearing wet underwear, so there was only one thing to do.  I dropped my drawers and jumped into the icy water all in one motion, like a scene from “Lord of the Flies”.  Instantly, my body went into shock, feeling the chill of the water that had probably been snow only a few days prior.  I stood up and let out a shrill shout of “HOOO! HOO! HOO! HOO!” sounding like a lost member of the African chorus on Paul Simon’s “I Know What I Know”. 

The chilly water sprayed me with goose bumps and splashed a smile across my face.  Yes, I must have looked crazy: a 30 year old English teacher standing nude in a freezing river amidst the Wyoming wild.  Yet, despite all the insanity involved in the act, never before had I felt such a rush of pure joy wash over the entirety of my body and soul. The Neanderthal in me had finally be awakened from his 30 year hibernation.

show openings

1985 - The Factory Theater 

All the Fame of Lofty Deeds - The House Theatre of Chicago 

Becoming Ingrid - Rubicon Theatre Project

Cedar Lake Contemporary Ballet - Auditorium Theatre of Roosevelt University

Cooperstown - Theatre Seven of Chicago

The David Bowie Hepzikat Funky Velvet Flarney Solstice Spectacular Live!…From Space (David Bowie’s 1977 Christmas Special Network Edit) - New Millenium Theatre

Democracy - Eclipse Theatre

G.I.F.T. - Collaboraction Theatre

Little Women - Circle Theatre

Macbeth - Dominican University Performing Arts Center

Mass – Northwestern University 

Plaid Tidings - Noble Fool Theatricals

Spanish Strings - McAninch Arts Center

Stars in the Morning Sky - UIC Theatre

A Very Merry Unauthorized Children’s Scientology Pageant - A Red Orchid Theatre

show closings

As You Like It - Loyola University

The Black Duckling - Dream Theatre 

Book of Days - EverGreen Theatre Ensemble 

C’est La Vie - Light Opera Works 

Dinner for Six - Metropolis Performing Arts Centre

The Fantasticks - Porchlight Music Theatre 

Fedra: Queen of Haiti - Lookingglass Theatre 

Graceland - Profiles Theatre

The Last Unicorn - Promethean Theatre

The Mercy Seat - Profiles Theatre

Pump Boys and Dinettes - Metropolis Performing Arts Centre

Spoon River Anthology - Saint Sebastian Players

A Streetcar Named Desire - Polarity Ensemble Theatre

Treasure Island - Lifeline Theatre

Two by Pinter - Piven Theatre Workshop

Lyrics have always fascinated me. I am a person interested in the written word and its application more than I am someone who focuses on the musicality of music. I grew up obsessing about what certain songs were about. Then at a certain age I became aware, thanks to my relationships with musical people and interviews with musicians I idolized, that a lot of songs don’t really mean anything. I know this sounds basic to a lot of people that aren’t as focused on the words in songs, but to me it was nothing less than revelatory.

In retrospect the lack of meaning in some lyrics shouldn’t have been such a surprise to a guy who was more of a Paul McCartney guy than a John Lennon guy. Paul’s songs often sounded like they were about something but mostly fall apart upon closer inspection. Charles Manson may have thought “Helter Skelter” was about an impending war between the races but in reality it was simply an attempt to write a song that was louder and more violent than what the Rolling Stones were writing at the time. The lyrics are largely a description of what’s it like to play on a playground slide.

There is a benefit to focusing on the words of a song. Lyrics were the reason I think I was able to develop a very diverse taste in music. They Might Be Giants don’t have much in common with Del the Funky Homosapien musically, but they are both very adept at turning a phrase or coming up with a clever lyrical construct (full disclosure: I just used the phrase ‘clever lyrical construct’ without fully knowing what it even means or is supposed to mean). When you are more concerned with what a song is saying than how it sounds, it opens you up to a lot of music you may not have cared about otherwise. Of course what constitutes “good lyrics” is as subjective as anything else. When I was about 15 I thought Simon and Garfunkel were excellent lyricists, but at this point in my life I think a lot of their lyrics sound like a freshman poetry seminar (Simon did continue to mature as a lyric writer though and the lyrics on Graceland are suberb).

To many musicians a song is a chance to explore and experiment with a unique sound they haven’t yet tried out. Using “Helter Skelter” again as an example, Paul simply hadn’t written a song that rocked that hard before and so he threw together some lyrics around the melody. What the lyrics actually are saying is by far the least important part of that song. That lack of loaded meaning doesn’t take away from the visceral appeal of the song. The reverse can be true too, good lyrics aren’t enough to get you past something that (for you) is unlistenable. I think Tom Waits writes some really excellent lyrics and I love the atmosphere his words and music combine to make, but his voice is such that I can never listen to more than 2 Tom Waits songs in a row.

Right now I’ve come to a place where I still lyrics are one of the key aspects of a song, but I no longer expect those lyrics to contain a deeper meaning. Lyrics are another color the artist has on her palette to use as she wishes.

Simultaneous to this discovery I had a similar experience with film. Like a lot of guys in their 20’s I went through my David Lynch phase. I watched all of ‘Twin Peaks’, ‘Lost Highway’, ‘Mulholland Drive’, etc. And though I didn’t connect to some of the most esoteric Lynch (I turned ‘Eraserhead’ off in boredom after about 30 minutes) I did slowly learn to accept that sometimes there isn’t a big unifying “What This All Means” to be had in a movie. You can watch ‘Mulholland Drive’ and you can certainly tie together a lot of seemingly random and bizarre things into a very workable theory of what the movie is “about” but there are still a lot of loose ends and odd moments that don’t quite fit in the puzzle you’re constructing. But that’s Lynch’s intent, a lot of the images and words he chooses are meant to create a feeling or mood. There isn’t a hidden metaphor you’re missing out on, the purpose was to make you unsettled, or scared, etc.

So a song could be about being very loud and a movie could be about making you feel alienated. They may exist and be fantastic works of art with nary a literal “meaning” to be had. To a lot of people this information is met with a “Yeah…and?” but for a young man who grew up with his head in a book the freedom to take in art without searching for a meaning was one of the most freeing pop culture experiences I’ve ever had.

After a few months banging my head on the world of employment, I was able to get away to Chicago for 2 weeks, to just explore the sights, watch ice hockey, eat the biggest steak in the entire world, re-dicovered oreos and bagels, go to the cinema, take the world’s most awful picture of Willem Defoe, go up the St Louis Arch and see Dead Elvis and Dead Elvis’ microphone in Sun Studios.

Chicago is amazing; an immense hive of a city with stunning architecture, views and beautiful food. I loved the buzz of being in a city again, alongside being in America again. To be honest, despite having a job to go home for, I did not want to go home while I was on holiday. The trip had been in the forefront of my mind for such a long time, that to go home afterwards and face the fact that I was back in a similar position to what I had been all year was not a happy thought. However, I then pulled myself together and got on with getting lost in Macys.

Here are some photos of my epic trip abroad-enjoy!

PS: These photos are mine. Please do not copy them without asking me first. If you do copy them and your teeth then fall out, don’t come crying to me!

Right, apart from from all of the sun-I just need to actually write about… well… getting a job. I have finally started my Christmas job, and have other news to follow too!

Graceland, which meets on Wed nights from 7:15-9pm, is open to all Senior High students!

Weekly Topics:

• Nov 4 – Belief part 3
• Nov 11, 18 & Dec 2 – Changed

Last Music lecture today! *wipes away tear* We listened to Shakira and some Paul Simon songs in which he plays about 15 seconds of “authentic” South African music before singing over the top of them. Alice showed me some book and Steve and I discussed Jews. Good times.

I decided to go to the State Library in order to work on my essay (made a start on it! woot!), and happened to walk past a good deal of construction. I had forgotten that they were renovating Myer. I wonder what it will look like when it’s done– one wall is finished and it’s all weird and glassy. So then I spent quite a long time sitting there in the Redmond Barry Reading Room thinking about Bob Dylan and getting very hungry (no connection between the two).

As I was sitting there and looking around the room (anywhere, in fact, but at my work), I noticed this guy waving to me. I assumed I’d met him before and had forgotten him, so I gave that awkward “hey…” nod and went back to staring at my taskbar. Later on, he actually got up, walked up to me and asked me if I was English. “Um… I speak English?” “Oh… I thought you were English because your face is… cherubic”. CHERUBIC? I was slightly freaked out and laughing on the inside at the same time. Luckily, he left me alone then but he did wish me a good day when I got up and left a few hours later. Strange…

I had a bit of time before dinner, so I took a few shots of a rather ominous sunset, an intriguingly lit-up garbage truck and wonderfully tacky Chinatown on my way to Tattersalls Lane and the Shanghai Dumpling House. It was Liz’s (pictured) birthday, and more importantly, Tuesday $12 All-You-Can-Eat. I think I had More-Than-You-Should-Eat. Still full of thousands of dumplings… So basically, we ate shitloads of food and listened to the bizarre mix of music that gets played there (a combination of Beatles, swing and sugary slow-dancey pop) as well as a Happy Birthday track that kept getting played. We weren’t sure if all the Happy Birthdays were for Liz, but we sang along raucously regardless.

cdwow で注文しておいたポール・サイモンのグレイスランド（グレースランドじゃないのね）が 20 日に到着。

いわゆる紙ジャケットで写真のごとく日本製の完全生産限定盤。2006年版？　まだ、残ってるのか。

発送地はホンコン。海外から日本製のものが送料無料（75円で配送の時の保険みたいのが掛けられる）で送られてきている。ホンコンで日本盤が流通しているのか、ホンコンで製造されたのか。盤の帯には made in japan って書いてある。

日本向けのサイトで頼むと日本語の製品が送られてくるのかな。もちろん日本語の詳しいブックレットが付いてきて、ポールのアルバムについてのインタビューみたいのも読めて興味深い。

iPod で聴かないで、ボクの持っている安いミニコンポだけどスピーカーで聴くとゼンゼン違う。なんかつき抜けた感じの澄みきった幸福感が空気の中にただよう。プリミティブな聴き方が似合うのかな。

解説文の充実度を見ると「ひとりごと」の mini LP sleeve も欲しくなった。安さにつられて digipak 盤、買っちゃったし。しまったなあ。cdwow の商品説明を読むと日本製じゃないみたい…　3-CD ボックスセット？　ふーむ。

Includes liner notes by Kevin Howlett, Paul Zollo and Philip Glass.

This 3-CD box set contains a 40-page booklet with extensive liner notes, track by track annotations, complete personnel and recording information a discography, rare photographs and is divided into three sections “The Early Years,” “The Solo Years” and “Graceland And Beyond.”

cdwow はモノによってとんでもなく値段が安いのが魅力のひとつだけれど、商品の説明が今一つ信用できない。ほかに買った人のレビューが全然無いのがいまどきとしては物足りない。

TravelPod bloggers get to every nook and cranny in the world. Including some of the most visited “tourist traps”. I sifted through the blogs and found that these so-called traps aren’t always as bad as they seem…

1. Great Wall of China

Broc_and_bailey's Canadian friends on the Great Wall

We had an early start as we were heading to the ‘Great Wall’.It took us 2hrs to get there,then we had 3hrs on the wall, lunch & 2 hrs back again! We got a cable car up, to save time (nothing to do with being lazy)! The wall was really good, it was really foggy so the views weren’t the best! We were on the way back down to the 2nd part but met up with 2 Canadian guys who twisted Brocs arm (was really hard) to have a beer, so we had a rite laugh with them for about a half hr, so our time was limited for the 2nd part! got as far as we & got this slide down, that was really slow to start with but ended up being really fun! Lunch was gorgeous, 7 different dishes & rice! got a taste of everything! were sitting with a few local, who were giving us funny looks as we tried to master the chopsticks! one of the girls even ordered us a fork, but we didn’t give up!! – Broc_and_bailey

2. A beer house in Munich, Germany

Bobstine eating wurst in Hof Brau Haus

We had lunch at the Hofbräuhaus and watched the brass band. We met a nice young man from Hungary over lunch. He’s visiting friends of his wife and was lunching alone while she and her friends went shopping. He currently lives in Switzerland and is a bond broker; so we had a good conversation with him about offshore accounts, the economy, politics and relative costs between Europe and the USA. – Bobstine

3. Graceland, Memphis, Tennessee

Kayaker902's parents at Graceland

As we toured the grounds I started feeling slightly transported to the 60’s.  Very much 60’s decor which was how it was when he lived there, it just made things seem different.  He had a very elaborate house for the time period, however, today I am sure the TV and other things that made Graceland seem so elaborate people would just say yeah everybody has those.  Anyway, as we started through the house I really just didn’t get.  It wasn’t until the meditation ground that this strange feeling hit me.  I really can’t explain it, it just felt really weird.  Now let me explain the meditation garden is where Elvis’s twin brother is buried along with his grandmother and parents and Elvis.  Thus that might explain the really eerie feeling I had. – kayaker902

4. Tiki Village Theatre, Moorea, French Polynesia

Cmj enjoyed the Tiki Village dinner even though it was "contrived"

That evening we splurged on a dinner theatre show at the Tiki Village. It was of course a contrived and stereotyped package for tourists, but a very well done one. Dinner was excellent and the show was great fun. We were a bit baffled when the traditional fire dancers cleared the sand stage to let Joseph usher Mary to the manger, but decided it was better not to ask questions while the chieftain led the carolers in silent night. – Cmj

5. Venice, Italy

Warrmb7's friends in Venice

once we got off the bus at the beginning of Venice we had to navigate our way through the city’s narrow streets and attempt to find out way. Venice is full of small streets that lack names and seem to go the most roundabout ways to get to places so we were pretty lost before we finally found our hostel after about an hour. The evening was spent exploring the city streets and trying to find a place that had good food, was near the canal and was not terribly expensive….nothing like that existed so we settled for an expensive meal of pizza which turned out to be worth all the money we spent. We stayed out until about 2am exploring and arrived back at our hostel, weary and ready for sleep. – Warrmb7

6. Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

Explorerjones' cottage in Williamsburg, Virginia

We are staying in a cute little cottage right in the center of Williamsburg which as Luke said “this house is like in colonial times except if this were colonial times they wouldn’t have books and puzzles out about colonial times.” That’s a curious, engaged traveler for you! – Explorerjones

7. Sally Lunn’s, Bath, England

Addicted2travel visited Sally Lunn's House in Bath

We passed Jane Austen’s house, saw the Royal Crescent which is a super huge building shaped like a crescent that faces a park, went by Pulteney Bridge which is a bridge that has shops on both sides of it, walked around the Bath Abbey which is another beautiful cathedral, and passed Sally Lunn’s house which is the oldest house in Bath.  Overall, I would say Bath is one of the cutest English cities I’ve seen that is just fun to walk around.  Super cute! – Addicted2travel

8. New York City Harbor Tours

Missmizon enjoyed the view of the skyline from her New York Harbour Tour

We managed to find a 72 hour ticket which allowed unlimited use of the hop on hop off tours, a cruise on the river, the ferry to the Statue of Liberty, access to the Empire State Building and a night tour of the city.  Tickets in hand we took a walk down to the ferry terminal to river cruise which was really nice as the weather was good and we got some excellent views of the city, some of New Jersey and the Statue of Liberty (hence the 101 pictures!). – Missmizon

9. Tower of London, London, England

Travellingross was deeply impressed by the Tower of London

I had seriously under-estimated what this was and very impressed in the end – i was thinking dungeon’s and a tower, but nooooo it is actually the original castle of William the Conquerer in 1066 and adapted & re-constructed many times by pretty much every monarch since. Fascinating stuff; especially the Crown Jewels (no photos allowed), torture rooms, beheading location, inscriptions/graffiti on the walls from all the prisoners, the moat which is now drained and basically a lawn. Spent a lot longer here than anticipated, but well worth it. The Jewels were fascinating, but way overly commercialised (you view them from a horizontal escalator!) and sooooo many people. tourists everywhere. I wonder what Henry 8th would think if he saw this place now. So much history, and where people were murdered/tortured/beheaded there are now ice cream licking fat tourists with cameras around their necks posing in front of the place that people had their heads chopped off or imprisoned for years. Totally bizarre in my mind when there is still a Sovereign reigning over this Kingdom and it is still a castle with full status. I don’t think u should commercialise history until it is truely history. But who am i to talk – i paid £17 to get in the gates. But i am respectful of what this place is, i mean Elizabeth I was imprisoned here to stop her being Queen because of her religion. Being able to stand in the same place that this happened is surreal.

10. Montmartre, Paris, France

The_stamms loved visiting Montmartre, even if it was crowded

We took the train to Montmartre (which seemed even more crowded than we left it), but since the weather was beautiful, we joined the masses in walking around, getting great pictures of my favorite church painted for me by my husband, Sacre Coeur, and watched the artists in the square at work. – The_stamms

Graceland's kitchen. Home of the Gut Bomb.

Question: What do you get when you combine a bunch of bananas, a jar of peanut butter, a pound of bacon, and a big, soft loaf of white bread?

Answer: You get an Elvis Presley Gut Bomb, and that’s what I kept thinking about when I stood in Elvis’ kitchen during a tour of Graceland.

Sure, he’s the King of Rock ‘n Roll, and, yes, he had a tremendous impact on our music and pop culture, and it is true that all these years after his death, thousands upon thousands of loyal fans still make the pilgrimage to his Memphis home. I don’t disagree with any of that, but as I stood in his kitchen, looking at the dark wood cabinets, the linoleum countertops and the stained glass overhead lamps, I thought of Elvis in his pajamas, frying up a Gut Bomb for himself and whoever happened to be hanging out with him.

Visiting Graceland didn’t put Elvis Presley up on a pedestal for me. It took him down from one, and made him accessible in a very endearing way. It wasn’t just the Gut Bomb that did it, either. The house itself, did, and the property around it.

Elvis Presley bought Graceland when he was just 22. He lived there another 20 years until his death.

Graceland is a beautiful home, 70s interiors notwithstanding, and the surrounding grounds are lovely, but before taking the tour, I imagined I would be visiting an overly huge, ostentatious palace, like the six or seven that Oprah owns or the Windsors.

Graceland didn’t deliver, though, not as far as square footage goes. Maybe it was simply a sign of the times, but from what I learned on the tour, I think it was more about who Elvis was. He was a country-raised mama’s boy who gained worldwide fame in a very short span of time. He was just 22 when he bought Graceland. To him it was a castle, and he lived there for the rest of his life … just another 20 years.

The Graceland legend grows
In the time since then, the Graceland legend has grown to overshadow the house itself. After the White House, it is the most visited private residence in the United States with 600,000 fans a year making the pilgrimage. Part of the reason it has grown larger than life is the décor. Elvis bought the house in 1957, but the interiors are pure 1970s. Even by those standards, the décor is eye-poppingly bright and deliciously glitzy, glam-y and tacky, The negative stereotype of the nouveau riche comes to mind, so does Liberace and the Beverly Hillbillies. Arthur Goldman, author of  “Elvis,” a controversially critical biography, said, “King Elvis’s obsession with royal red reaches an intensity that makes you gag.”

That’s a little venomous, but it wasn’t completely off base. The kitchen reflects the style of the times; it’s pretty dark and dated, but it’s relatively normal for a 70s kitchen. The other rooms, well, hmm, let’s just say good taste ends in the kitchen, and I’m not just talking about those Gut Bombs.

All Graceland tours begin at the visitor’s center across the street from the house. Ticket options are the Mansion Tour ($28), which gives you access to the house only, the Platinum Tour ($33), for the house and all the exhibits, and the Elvis Entourage VIP Tour ($69), for those with sucker written across their foreheads. The VIP Tour allows access to the house and the exhibits, plus a VIP-only exhibit, front of the line house access, and a keepsake backstage pass. Tickets can be purchased in person, online, or by phone (800-238-2000).

We picked the Platinum tour and boarded the bus to take us across the street to Graceland. Bus attendants handed out headsets for the audio tour and gave us instructions on using them. The headsets were very easy to use and let us customize the tour by allowing us to go at our own pace, skip over some sections, and get more info on others.

You know you're in Graceland when you pass through these gates.

Entering the Gates of Graceland: After crossing the street, Elvis’ wrought iron guitar and music note gates opened up, and we drove the winding driveway up to the house. It’s a Classical Revival style home, made of limestone with four Corinthian columns on the front portico, and two stone lions guarding the entrance.

It’s a beautifully elegant home, but that wasn’t always the case. The home went through a series of color changes under Elvis’ supervision. At one time, the exterior was painted blue and gold to match the curtains inside. Elvis died in 1977, during Graceland’s red period when the house was awash in red carpets, red walls, and red drapes.

The Living Room & Music Room

Peacocks keep an eye on the Music and Living Rooms, the first stop on the tour.

We got off the bus and listened to final instructions from the attendants (namely, no flash photography), and we finally walked through the front doors. The Living and Music rooms are the first stop on the tour, and I can best describe them with one word. WOW! Blue curtains, gold curtains, mirrors, mirrors, mirrors. I wanted a few minutes to take it all in, but we were hurried along by the crowds behind us. As I left the room, I had to stick my head back in to confirm: Were those giant blue peacocks on the stained glass windows? Why, yes! Yes, they were.

The Dining Room

Visions of Liberace danced in my head, but Elvis loved the elegance of this room.

This picture reminded me I was in Elvis' home, not an anonymous museum.

The dining room across the hall was a slightly more sedate, but still had lots of shiny with a huge crystal chandelier, gold trim, and more mirrors. As I stepped into the room to get a better look, I saw a portrait of Priscilla with baby Lisa Marie. Call me sentimental, but I forgot all about the room when I saw that picture. It brought to mind that I wasn’t touring a random historical artifact, I was touring someone’s home, a family’s home, a place of great joy, great success, and ultimately great heartbreak. It was a bit of a buzz-kill because I was having fun smirking at the kitsch, but I couldn’t ignore the real story, the human story. It was hanging there in that portrait on the wall, and I was very touched by it. For a few minutes, anyway. It was hard to maintain a reverent mood when the rooms just kept getting curiouser and curiouser.

The TV Room

There was a lot to look at in the TV Room, including the porcelain monkey.

Heading downstairs, the stairwell was covered, wall to ceiling, with mirrors. Imagine looking up at yourself overhead as you’re walking down stairs. It was a little bit fun, but mostly it made me dizzy. The stairs led into the TV Room, a very yellow and black affair, with a giant black sectional in the middle, a yellow leather-upholstered bar along one wall, the signature Elvis “TCB” lightning bolt painted on another wall, and three TVs lined up along the far wall. After hearing that LBJ watched three TVs at once, the Elvis started doing the same thing. Of course, there were mirrors, too. The coffee table was covered in them, and so was the entire ceiling, which begs the question … with all those mirrors, why have three TVs? In any case, my favorite part of this room was the large white porcelain monkey on the coffee table. Seems Elvis and I share an affinity for monkeys.

The Pool Room

The Pool Room was a lesson in what not to do with fabric.

This room was by far the strangest one in the house. It’s covered, wall to ceiling with 350 yards of a very busy print fabric, that also covers the two sofas in the room. All of the fabric is accordion-pleated and comes together in the middle of the ceiling under a big fabric medallion. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I hope I never have to again. Besides how awful it looks, it was hard to figure how anyone could concentrate enough to play a good game of pool in there. The one good thing you could say about the room, is that there were no mirrors.

The Jungle Room

Elvis' Jungle Room, complete with green shag carpet and monkeys.

Monkeys were the finishing touch.

Back upstairs again, we enter my favorite room in the house. The Jungle Room is filled with plants, wood, and animal prints. I got the impression that it was decorated by a 12 year old boy, who got permission to fill it with whatever he wanted. An oversize faux-fur and wood-carved chair sits in one corner. On the chair is a big teddy bear and a guitar. Next to the chair is a collection of more white monkey statues. A stone waterfall takes up one end of the room, and to add the final jungle touch, green shag carpet covers the floor AND the ceiling.

That’s the end of the main house tour. The top floor, where Elvis died, is only open to Elvis’ family. No one, not even Graceland staff is permitted.

A view of Graceland from the back shows how modest the house really is.

No loafing in Vernon's office!

Next we tour the back of the house, which was mostly standard, except for the shooting range and the smokehouse. Before passing by Lisa Marie’s swing set, we got to look inside Vernon Presley’s office. Compared to the rest of the house, the office was sparse and utilitarian. Apparently the mood in there was all business, too. Vernon’s hand-made sign on the office door warned visitors to take care of business AND LEAVE. It was a strange contrast to the warm, party atmosphere in the house.

As we walked on to the next stop, we passed by the family pool, and the horse meadow and stables before heading back inside to the Trophy Room, an area Elvis had added on to the property.

The Trophy Room was filled with gold and platinum records. It’s unbelievable how many Elvis earned. 110 in all … I had no idea. I kept reading the titles to see if there were duplicates, but they are all authentic. There was so much memorabilia in the Trophy Room that it was hard to take it all in, but I paid particular attention to the displays about Elvis’ philanthropy. I knew Elvis was very generous to his entourage, but it was heart-warming to learn how much he gave to his community, as well.

Jumpsuits, awards, and gold records filled the trophy room. Elvis earned 110 gold and platinum records! Amazing!

The last indoor part of the tour was the racquetball court, an addition that Elvis had built in 1975. The space now holds more display cases of Elvis memorabilia and in particular a large collection of his concert jumpsuits. In a high-ceilinged room that once housed the actual racquetball court, live concert footage of Elvis is shown up above the display cases.

By time we got to this room, I was a little bit Elvis’d out, and feeling antsy to wrap up the tour, but the concert footage caught my attention, and I stood there looking up at Elvis as other visitors funneled into the room. The concert was Vegas, mid-70s. It wasn’t the young, beautiful Elvis, but it wasn’t the bloated, drugged-up one either. He was somewhere in between, and he had such charisma it was impossible not to get caught up as he sang “Are You Lonesome Tonight.”

It was remarkable to stand there in that room, and watch as the long dead icon enthralled a room full of noisy tourists into silent reverie. It felt religious, standing there, our faces turned upward to watch the King. As he sang, laughed and mugged for the audience, I was near tears and others in the room were outright crying by the end of the song.

Elvis and his parents are buried in the Meditation Garden.

Outside at the Meditation Garden, emotions ran even higher. Elvis had this area built in 1964 and used it for a personal retreat. Now, it’s a memorial area and the burial site of Elvis, his parents, and his grandmother, Minnie Mae. There’s also a plaque for Elvis’ stillborn identical twin, Jessie Garon Presley.  The gravesites encircle a fountain and the area is filled with flowers, cards, stuffed animals and other gifts visitors have left in honor of Elvis.

Whatever it was that Elvis had, he still has it, and his fans still adore him. Regardless of the excesses, the gut bombs and the glitz, Elvis’ story is a extraordinary one, and it still resonates with millions of fans around the world.

Additional Exhibits

In addition to the audio tour of the house, separate tickets are available for the self-guided tours at the visitor’s center across the street from Graceland. Housed among nine gift shops and every imaginable Elvis Presley/Graceland souvenir are:

The Elvis’ Automobile Museum showcases 33 of Elvis’ most precious cars on a landscaped “freeway.”  Included are his pink Cadillac, John Deere tractor, Harley-Davidsons, Stutz Blackhawks, a Dino Ferrari, a his 1956 Cadillac Eldorado Convertible

Elvis in Hollywood features memorabilia from his film career, including wardrobe, scripts, and rare photos.

Elvis Lives is an interactive exhibit highlighting Elvis’ impact on music and pop culture.

The Private Presley exhibit focuses on Elvis’ military service. Don’t mistake it for “Personal” Presley. This exhibit is located next door to the visitor’s center in a strip mall. It’s an inconvenient location, but an interesting display of artifacts from Elvis’ time in the army.

The Lisa Marie jet stays home at Graceland.

The most fun of all the secondary exhibits is Elvis’ Custom Jets, a walk-through tour of his two planes. The Lisa Marie, a Convair 880, is huge, nearly 707 size, and features a private bedroom with gold faucet and sink, conference room, state of the art sound system.  Outside, Elvis’ lightning bolt and TCB is painted on the tail. The Hound Dog II, a Lockheed JetStar, was much more muted, but it was sleek and you could just feel how fast it could go.

For more information, please visit the Graceland website.

For a little Elvis of you’re own, here’s Are You Lonesome Tonight on YouTube.

© Olivia Tejeda and Away with Words, 2008-2009. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Olivia Tejeda and Away with Words with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

It’s been a while since my last post and I know you all must be starving, but before we begin cooking, I wanted to tell you about my latest travel experience. We took a quick trip up to northern California, more specifically Placerville and it’s surroundings. I wanted to absorb all of the sights and sounds, flavors and aromas of El Dorado County. Where just few miles east of lies a region called Apple Hill,  Graceland to someone with finely tuned taste buds.                               

Imagine green, yellow and purple tomatoes. How would you like to pick your own apples off the trees? What about pears and peaches so fresh, everything store bought will taste stale. Healthy lifestyle begins with healthy eating. This sort of thing is easy here.

Tonight We’re having Tri-Tip paired with wines from the region.  Read on.

The female DG remained a bit ambiguous about visiting Graceland ever since the Dual Gs arrival in Memphis. She’s not a huge Elvis fan and the whole pilgrimage thing was a bit too much. But as it was almost on their way to the Mississippi Delta,  it became “why not?” The verdict: it’s a true slice of American kitsch and while way over-produced, the people watching is amazing. The house itself is far from a mansion (by today’s standards) and the time-stamped early 7os decor is awful beyond words – there’s even shag carpet on one ceiling. The male DG spotted our South Pasadena refrigerator in the kitchen (barely visible in the left hand corner) where it seemed fitting to photograph “the chef.”  All that aside, the “Trophy Room” that spotlights Elvis’s recording and movie career was yet another walk through a lifetime.

A  day’s journey that began at a mansion ended when they checked into the Shack Up Inn (where there’s a lot of old stuff strewn about for authenticity, as the photo shows), which resides in the former slave quarters of the Hopson Plantation in Clarksdale. It’s another kind of kitsch overlaid with some good old fashioned entrepreneurship on the part of owners Bill and Guy. The other guests are two couples from Belgium. Only in America.

Memphis was overcast and drizzly when we arrived. A thin crowd — much thinner than the throng I’d encountered back in 1993 — were waiting to board the minibuses for transport across Elvis Presley Blvd., through the wrought iron musical gates thrown wide open, and up the blacktop driveway to Elvis’s front door.

Back in 1993-ish, my sister and I had taken a road trip from D.C. to Memphis to visit Graceland. Suffice it to say, I have seen the inside of the house of Elvis. Seen the green shag rug and carpeted stairwell (walls, floor and ceiling) leading to The King’s pool table down in the basement.

From the paucity of tourists milling about in the parking lot, I’d venture say that Elvis may, at long last, be declared dead. Yet, Graceland lingers on…(for shame, Priscilla).

What I did want to do, though, was scan the grafitti-covered stone wall fronting the property for any ghostly remains of the missives my sister and I had inscribed there fifteen years ago.

But, alas, there was no trace at all that we had been there. However, I did see some cool newer entries:

So, we got back in the car. I scrolled down the attractions listed on the GPS and programmed our next destination: Stax Records.

Otis Redding and Carla Thomas recorded on the Stax label. I was (am) a big fan. I love the song “Tramp.”

The next stop was Sun Records. Unfortunately, we’d just missed the start of the 40-minute studio tour. So we hung around checking out the wealth of memorabilia all over the walls — original 45 rpm pressings of Jerry Lee Lewis, Elvis, Johnny Cash, and scores of other rhythm and blues artists recorded by Sam Philips.

If only we could have stayed for the next tour. But, our growling stomachs were begging for food. So, we got back in the car and drove into downtown Memphis. On our way to Pa Pa Pía’s — an Italian restaurant where we would share a salad and a scrumptious Margarita pizza (“We make our own pizza dough!” said the waiter) and the songs of (who else) Frank Sinatra — we happened to drive past, to my great delight, The Cotton Museum.

If you’ve read my recent posts, you probably know how much I love cotton plants. But, a museum devoted to cotton? How great was that. See below, the fake man tabulating the trade:

After lunch, we visited the museum. Besides learning how cotton was harvested, ginned, seeded and sold in Memphis – the cotton capital of the world — we were each issued an iPOD shuffle and ear buds so we could listen to re-enactments of cotton trading banter and the history of the cotton industry as we walked up and down Front Street visiting historic buildings.

I think I must have lived on a cotton plantation in a former lifetime…or worked at the cotton exchange or picked it or something. I’m so attracted to raw cotton.

Inside the museum, there was a great piece of folk art, painted by a local:

I loved Memphis the first time I saw it and I fell in love with it again. It’s a vibrant, cosmopolitan, elegant and laid-back city steeped in history. We promised ourselves that we would return there for a vacation and book a room in the beautiful Peabody Hotel. Check out the lobby:

And, also, ride the trolley cars – which actually make trips to desirable destinations, instead of just moving back and forth from Point A to Point B.

But, we had so much ground to cover in too few days and didn’t have time to ride the street car. Instead, we walked down to the banks of the Mississippi River and gazed out over the water. Then, it was time to get back in the car.

We wished we could have stayed longer, but we had to get to Knoxville that same night. Our projected time of arrival was 9:45 p.m.

Except that, it wasn’t until we checked into the hotel that we discovered we had crossed over into EST. It was 10:45 p.m., not 9:45. We’d been on the road so many days, I didn’t even remember what day it was, let alone the time.

Maybe we shouldn’t be turning to Elvis for culinary inspiration. Regardless, The Cupcakery has transformed Elvis’ Bacon, Peanut Butter & Banana Sandwich into this Trip To Graceland cupcake. I’ll admit I was anxious to taste it.

• Would you try the Elvis cupcake?
• How could this cupcake be improved?
• What other combinations would you like to see in a cupcake?

The Cupcakery has locations in Nevada and Texas.

The Elvis Head Saga

It all started the fall that I lived in Dogtown, when my cohorts Brett and Ralph were living in LA, bidding contracts to build floats for the Rosebowl Parade. The mighty state of Mississippi had decided to put in a float that year, and Brett and Ralph were determined to get that job, as they were well known (at least among their artist friends) for the sculpture garden that they had installed in their backyard, referred to, by those in the know, as the Holyland. This art mecca was home to a large collection of Jesus/Elvis art, all of it the original work of B&R. They thus felt that they were eminently qualified to design and construct the Elvis float. However, they lost the bid, the giant Elvis head that eventually appeared in the parade was an atrocity in the name of The King, and that would have been the end of that if not for the shenanigans of a couple of rascally LA DJs who decided to make the head a part of their cause.

The DJs were named Mark and Brian, and they had the coveted and very popular morning drive time slot. They were known as pranksters (one of my all time favorite radio moments was when they made Barry White suck a helium balloon before his radio interview), and they had one fairly famous prank in their past that is directly related to this story. It seems that a while back before my story begins, this pair went to Graceland, where they were taping a remote broadcast as they took the tour of the mansion. Unbeknownst to the Graceland folks, Mark and Brian had a secret plan At an opportune moment, they broke away from the tour and tried to rush the stairs that lead up to Big E’s bedroom and the bathroom that was the site of his demise. Unbeknownst to Mark and Brian, NO ONE gets to the second story of Graceland uninvited. They were busted and booted out on their butts, and were informed in no uncertain terms that they were BANNED FOR LIFE! They slunk back to LA with their tail between their legs.

Meanwhile, back in the timeline of this story, you can imagine how overjoyed these two characters were to find themselves watching the Rosebowl Parade one New Years Day, when what to their wondering eyes should appear, but a giant Elvis head. The solution was clear! If they could deliver this trophy, a monument to their beloved King, to the powers that be at Graceland, surely they could get back in good graces and once again be allowed to roam the halloed (albeit restricted) halls of His home. A few quick phone calls and they possessed the object of their desire.

Okay, let me take a moment to explain the giant sucking vortex of cash and talent that is the Rosebowl  parade. These floats that you see every year are, like more expensive than the Titanic to build, and are engineered with state of the art mechanical moving parts. The understructure is welded pencil rod, covered with a fine screening that is then sprayed with a urethane foam which is painted and provides a surface on which to attach the bazillions of flowers and seeds that are applied 24 hours before the parade. Why the major procrastination, you may well ask. Because , my dear,, these babies have one hell of an extremely limited shelf life. They look magnificent for about 36 hours, and then the flowers wilt, the seeds fall off, and they look like crap. No one ever knows quite what to do with them 2 days after the parade, and some of them sit around in the float factory where maybe some of their parts can be recycled. But most of them end up in the scrap heap at the junkyard.

So, like I said, piece of cake for M&B to get a hold of E. Now apparently these guys have the aesthetic sensibility of a box of rocks, because when they pick up the big guy about a week later they think he looks just fine and they load him onto the flatbed they have rented and head for M(ecca)(emphis). Their spiritual journey is receiving much coverage on their popular radio station, and Brett and Ralph (remember them?) are forced to continue to digest the bitter pill that is their devastating loss of the most important job of their lives.

M&B head east, with their prize, which you need to take a moment to envision:

A huge, unflattering likeness of Elvis, partially covered with dead flowers and dried seeds, and partially revealing its crumbling, crusty foam understructure. And  as if to add to the glory  of their triumphant trek, these guys are transporting this work of art completely

UNCOVERED AND EXPOSED TO ALL THE DAMAGING EFFECTS OF WEATHER AND THE WINDS GENERATED BY 2000 MILES OF HIGH SPEED INTERSTATE TRAVEL. So. They arrive at Graceland and present their peace offering. Idiots.

Need I say: the Gracelanders are aghast that such a monstrosity exists. They quickly confiscate it as an unlicensed and therefore illegal likeness of their cash cow, Elvis, and send it off to the junkyard to be destroyed. The LA DJs remain BANNED FOR LIFE, and slink back to LA with their tails between their legs.

Meanwhile, back at the Holyland, B&R are keeping abreast of this late breaking news story with a keen sense of delight and an eye towards an opportunity to salvage something from this up till now colossally disappointing  chapter in their lives. When they hear that M&B have lost the Head, a plan begins to form in their scheming little brains. They get on the horn and quickly locate the junkyard where the Head has been taken, and ascertain that it has indeed not been demolished. For a mere couple of C notes, the junkyard guy agrees to hang onto the Head for a week. If they can get it out of there within a week, it’s theirs.

Now begins the media blitz/ publicity campaign portion of our show: B&R immediately put in calls to the LA Weekly, the LA Times, and boodles of local radio stations, in order to get the word out that it is their intention to bring the Elvis Head home to the Holyland.

They deride Mark and Brian for ever allowing Elvis to be removed from LA in the first place, and vow to return Him to his rightful city. Somehow, they manage to skirt the issue of the decrepit nature of the Head and the relationship of said decrepitude to the Head’s having ended up in a junkyard. In effect, they create for themselves a Noble Cause, and milk it for all it’s worth.

As soon as M&B realize that their precious Head has taken on a life of its own, they go on the air proclaiming themselves as the One True Owner of the Head, and vow to regain possession for themselves. They begin a retrieval campaign in which they call Memphis junkyards in an attempt to locate the Head. This necessitates a quick response on the part of B&R, who quickly put in a call to the junkyard guy and offer to sweeten the deal if he will keep his trap shut. He agrees.

About this time, the LA Times runs a story about all the hullabaloo associated with the Head, and the story is picked up by the AP wireservice, from which it is picked up by a Memphis paper, where it is read by the horrified Unlicensed Likeness Police at Graceland, who make plans  to the junkyard to see the  destroyed remains themselves. This impending visit is reported by the media, allowing B&R to learn of it before it happens and to up the reward for the junkyard guy if he will create a decoy pile of remains to appease the Graceland contingent. Junkyard gut agrees.

Somewhere in here is where the Wall Street Journal, for reasons unknown to its readership, decides to run a brief article containing most of the above facts as well as some details about the gala installation ceremony planned for the Head if it ever in fact makes its way to the Holyland,  plus information regarding the current market value of giant Elvis heads, and so forth.

So, what is taking so long for the darned thing to get rescued? Well, B&R, as it turns out, are not free to leave the City of Angels at this time. They both have pressing work commitments. As they diligently try to find an errand boy to make the run, M&B have become frustrated by the brick wall they have run into in their quest to locate the head, and they have decided to look for it in person. Exit stage east.

B&R finally talk Margaret into making the trip in her late model F150. She sets off, driving like a bat out of hell to beat the DJs and the one week expiration date. She gets to Memphis and calls the junkyard guy, breathless in her worry that she is too late. Not to worry, no sign of the DJs, and in fact, Margaret had just missed the Graceland Police, who bought the fake pile of debris. Lock, stock, and barrel. As it turns out, the junkyard guy had pulled some stuff off the Head to add to the pile of debris’ authenticity; he didn’t think anyone would notice. They didn’t.

So Margaret got the Head and brought it to the Holyland, where there was much rejoicing and media coverage at the festivities.

The Holyland became the universal center of all things Jesus/Elvis (which at that time in LA for some reason represented an awful lot of things). Mark and  Brian were stymied once again in their attempts to set things right with the  Universe As It Relates To Elvis, proving for all time that you should NEVER try to break into the King’s shitter.

As far as I know those assholes, no the other ones, are still BANNED FOR LIFE.

Sunday morning and we deserve a break from painting, at least in this blog.  I was thinking of a song I first heard back in 1975 when Willie Nelson released his classic Red Headed Stranger album, which was a concept album composed of sparse compositions that told the story of a fugitive on the run.  Just a beautiful group of disparate songs that come together to chronicle a tale.

When I heard Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain, I was hooked on the poetry and simplicity of the song, especially as performed in Nelson’s spartan manner.  So simple but so filled with emotion and feeling.  I think of this song often when I’m painting, trying to think how I can match that feeling of simple grace and depth of feeling in my own work.

I didn’t know much about the song then, always thinking that it was Nelson’s song.  But it had a long history, written in 1945 by the legendary Fred Rose for Roy Acuff.  Hank Williams recorded it in 1951 and a number of others have as well over the years.  It is considered to be the last song that Elvis recorded at Graceland, the day before he died.  But for me, there’s only one version that really stands alone.

Here’s the lovely Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain…

Among other things I haven’t posted in the last 3-4 months is mine and Aaron’s trip to Graceland last weekend.  It was exactly what one might expect.  We didn’t have much money to spend, so we spent the night in Memphis and saved all our energy for the King’s house Saturday morning.  Aaron listened carefully to the guided tour on his headphones while I annoyingly snapped photos and waited impatiently ten steps ahead of him at all times.  (Note: He’d never been, I had.) 

I took a handful of pictures before my crappy camera battery died.   Most aren’t worth posting, but I have to share this little bit of goodness:

If you just asked yourself, “Is that Aaron giving two thumbs up while standing in front of a teal Cadillac?” then I can tell you: Yes.  Yes it is.  I like to share the conversation that preceded this.

Me: “Aaron – stand in front of that car.”

Aaron: “Seriously?”

Me: “Yes.”

Aaron: “Fine.”

Me: “Now give me a thumbs up!”

Aaron: “SERIOUSLY?”

Me: “Yes….no, two thumbs up.”

Aaron: “Fine.”

The first thing I think of when hearing Memphis, is Elvis. One of the main tourist attractions of Memphis is Graceland, the mansion where Elvis himself lived. Depending on the package you choice, there are options for what exactly and how exactly you tour something. The biggest is Elvis’ mansion, which is not only his main house but also trophy house and office. On top of the mansion, you can also tour his airplanes and his museum.

courtesy of cheaptravel.today.com

After visiting Graceland, you can also visit the Memphis Rock & Soul Museum.

http://www.memphisrocknsoul.org/

Lastly, while staying in Memphis it’s necessary you stay at the Heartbreak Hotel.

http://www.elvis.com/epheartbreakhotel/