It's Milan Fashion Week, and while I usually don't care about the men's shows, I must applaud Gianfranco Ferré, Alexander McQueen, and Moschino for making menswear something I can actually covet. Gianfranco Ferré
Finally, a respectable funnel neck for dudes. Yes, fellas, I know you've been sitting at home, Vogue Hommes in one hand, shopping list in the other thinking, "I've finally found the perfect pant--slim-cut, slightly metallic, grazing my ever-so-perfect buttocks in just the right way, but where, damn you, are the funnel-necked coats?" Here, my manly men. Gianfranco has your backs.
Alexander McQueen
Allow me to script a bit more internal dialogue for you, fellas.
"I've been working on my abs ever so diligently, but I don't quite have that Jesus-on-the-cross definition that I've been working for." It's fine, McQueen figured he'd give them to you in leather. THANK THE MAN!
Also, that plaid suit is amazing. I only wish that I can one day own such a thing.
Moschino
While there's nothing quite so boundary pushing about Moschino's offering for the fellas, these are some seriously well-tailored suits. I'd like to think that if Hercule Poirot were taller and younger (oh, and real), he'd wear these. I do love a man in a v-necked sweater or waist coat.
It's Sunday morning, and I can't leave my house for fear that the church-goers will steal my cushy parking spot. Once upon a time I was church-going folk, waking up at the crack of dawn to slip into uncomfortable clothes and stockings to get on a cold school bus to be annoyed by all but a few of my fellow busriders to end up at Calvary Baptist Church for Sunday school and service. I never really had my weekends to myself, and now that I'm older, I avoid church like the plague. However, I do miss those delicious pancake breakfasts. (I have never had a pancake so fluffy and buttery as the ones served for Sunday school breakfast. And those grits!!!!! People let me tell ya.) Oh, and the bus ride. Despite strongly disliking more than a few of my companions, there were a few people whom I enjoyed. We'd sing all sorts of secular devil music on the ride to church and later cut Sunday school to go to KFC. See? I was meant for straight sinnin'. Lastly, though, I miss the singing. That was always the redemptive part of having my Sunday morning ruined, those sweet, sweet tunes of redemption and admittance and weakness. Every once in a while, I like to pretend that I'm at church here at home, and I play a few tunes to carrry me back to those moments on the pew when I soaked up just a bit of spirit.
"Silver and Gold" - Kirk Franklin and the Family
"This Little Light of Mine" - Random Dudes in Washington Sq. Park
"The Old Rugged Cross" - Caravans (Loleatta Holloway on lead)
I've been in this funk/r&b hybrid phase for a few months. I figured I'd share some lesser known (maybe) songs from a few artists we all know and possibly love. That's my intro.
"Watching You," "Just a Touch of Love," we all know these songs. Some of us even hate them. (Me! I hate them.) Stone Love, Slave's 1980 album, however, was damn near perfect. "Dreamin'" is perfect. I haven't been able to go a single 24 hour period without bursting out into song with this one. Enjoy.
When Steve Arrington left Slave, I imagine people were worried. I speculate only because I was too young to care. He had hits, one being "Way Out," which, in all fairness, did get play. The problem is that I don't hear it enough, not nearly as much as "Weak in the Knees," so in my opinion it's forgotten. Pure retarded funk exuberance.
Most people knew "The Deele before Babyface went solo." Most people know "Two Occasions" and "Shoot 'Em Up Movies," but "Let No One Separate Us" suffers from relative obscurity. Poppycock! While this may not be a funk song, The Deele were funky, so it counts.
"Don't Disturb This Groove" -- The System. I'll wait while you count how many times you've heard this song in your life. Now count how many times you've heard "Lollipops and Everything." Whatever the number, I'm pretty sure it's a travesty. Here, enjoy some thinly- veiled innuendo for sex.
Now, I'm a huge fan of this woman. My mom played "I Want To Thank You" hundreds of times during my childhood, but Alicia Myers is more than that. She's "Appreciation" and "You Get The Best From Me (Say, Say, Say)" and these two songs --"Just Can't Stay Away" and "Don't Stop What You're Doin'." Just Can't Stay Away
Don't Stop What You're Doin'
Finally, there's Yarbrough & Peoples' "Guilty," a song I hunted down for years. I have a Tapemaster cassette of me singing my little seven year-old heart out to this. Note: I hate "Don't Stop the Music" more than I can ever express. This song, on the other hand, is adorably funky.
So, I've already broken in my dermis with one absolutely ridiculous tattoo--a dancing bacon man. Now, I feel I need to take the next step--tattoomania. I've decided that my right arm (above the elbow) and shoulder blade should be covered in sweet, delicious ink. Now, I was gonna get a food motif--a cannibalistic cheeseburger, an obese stick of butter with fangs, and a sugar cube on an IV, my favorite foods depicting what will become of me if I keep it up. (We keep it hella cheerful here at fatmeatisgreasy.) Then, I felt I should get a robot tattoo of some sort, since I've always been accused by various exes of being one (and kinda love the shit out of them). However, I got the feeling that these things wouldn't "match." If I was gonna cover a specific part of my body in inks and patterns, I figured said inks should make some sort of sense. So, after much discussion with Schmoe Diggla, I've decided on a thematic layout--an open wound that both exposes my robotic innards and bleeds food products. That's right, you've read correctly, I'm completely bat shit. Yay me!
I've found some inspirational photos on the net that will serve as loose templates for my work. Feast your eyes folks.
First, the wound exposing circuitry. It should be something like this:
Photo credits here go to www.sepiamutiny.com/sepia/AnilGuptaRobot.jpg and http://free-tattoodesign.blogspot.com/2007/10/machine-tattoo-designs.html respectively. (Please let me know if you'd like me to remove your pictures.)
I can't really find photos of the individual items I'll have spilling from the wound since they're kinda kooky, but put yourself in the mind of the angry veggies featured in this link.
So, yeah. I have heart burn from all the crap I just ate, so it's definitely time for bed.
It's winter, which doesn't bode well at all for sustained elation; however, I'm feeling a bit lower than usual. It sucks. (Yes, yes, I know that my incredible talent for truly expressing the depths of my soul is astounding. No autographs please.)
No need to focus on the negative. Life is all about denial and delusions and repressing true emotions in favor of transitory, fleeting joys that follow you, sneering, to your death bed. In an effort to avoid self-reflection, I choose:
1. Turkey Burgers - Thank you, colleague, for your delicious, heavily-seasoned and onioned turkey burgers. Smothered in Sweet Baby Ray's, these have me too itised to care about any clouds that may be following me.
2. Venture Bros. - Thank you, Adult Swim, for introducing me to such a delightful diversion. Brock Samson is so unapologetically masculine and violent, it's hard not to feel joy when he snaps the necks of gangs of ninja henchmen. (Adult Swim, I do have a bone to pick with you, though. The lineup used to be golden--Robot Chicken, Venture Bros., Metalocalypse, Home Movies?--perfection. Now you're showing crappy shows that I refuse to give a chance. Please, do better.)
3. These Shoes - Roger Viviers, so beautiful, so worthy of sin. Plaid and platformed, you are all the things I'd sell children on the black market for.
Note the lack of appropriate exclamation. It's a new year, sure, but these arbitrary distinctions in time don't really excite me, especially since nothing has really changed for me.
Ha! Ha! (Mood change.)
No need to be all Eeyore in this piece.
So, just to kick things off all proper like, I figure I'd address those who apparently read this blog but do not comment. Thanks for reading ... really. It's good to know that Monica isn't the only one.
Next, a quick movie review. The fam and I saw The Spirit, which was godawful. I got the comedic turn on film noir; however, it was so poorly done that there were very few redemptive qualities. I mean, the characters were so flat as to appear wooden. The dialogue was stiffer than Ron Jeremy at an outdoor orgy. Oh yeah, the cinematography was pretty great to my untutored eyes, and Scarlett Johansson's wardrobe was pretty boss, but that's it. Other than that, wait for it to come OnDemand, if then. Sorry, Gabriel Macht, no star turn for you.
Finally, the jury is in. I'm 30, which means I need to stop being delusional about my core self. I hate parties. I do not enjoy the company of large throngs of strangers (unless, of course, we've come together for the mutual appreciation of some music act). My idea of "going out" is eating. That's it. Take my rapacious ass to a restaurant of some sort, place me in front of a platter of edibles, and get back. That, my dears, is what life is about, chasing diabetes and blood pressure. In honor of this recognition, I spent half of New Year's Eve enjoying the comforts of slightly hoity-toity foods with my like-minded buddies. For only 40 bucks, we feasted on chicken livers mousse, trout roe blinis, Sicilian tuna, seafood bouillabaisse, young chicken with chestnuts, chocolate date cakes, and honey panna cottas. It was all delicious. If in Chicago, check out The Bristol on 2152 N. Damen; I hear they have brunch, which I'm thoroughly looking forward to. I then went to a party, where I quickly retreated into an empty room to play cards then went out for more food. Ain't nothing like a BLT at three in the morning.
Blinis and chicken liver mousse
Sicilian Tuna
Chocolate Date Pudding Cake and Chestnut Honey Panna Cotta
We have, my dears, reached the end of the road. In this final stretch, let me remind you that this list is completely subjective, and I don't care for your opinions. Great! Let's do this.
6. Phyllis Hyman - Loved, LOVED, Phyllis's voice. It's a hackneyed expression, but the woman was/is seriously underrated. She could sing anything, was absolutely gorgeous, and hilarious as hell--what more could you ever want in a woman? Unfortunately, as is the case with some of our best voices, her material was often inconsistent. Fortunately, that voice could carry some of the most marginal material.
"Be One"
"Loving You - Losing You"
"Betcha By Golly Wow"
5. Anita Baker - Old mush mouth herself. I'm telling you, the Midwest breeds some serious talent. Please, don't be in the car with me if/when "Been So Long" comes on. I will sing this song from beginning to end, scats and all, LOUDLY, and will not give a tinkler's damn. She was it in the 80s/early-90s, one of those artists whose material will automatically grant or deny "black points." I mean it, think back to the post-Saturday morning cartoon house clean, what was your mother playing? Yep, Old Nita here.
"Summertime (Live)"
"Been So Long"
"Angel"
4. Bobby Blue Bland - The voice of the blues, my dears. That is all. The man's voice in its prime was a magical amalgamation of bitter tears, alcoholic evenings, and pre-Keith Sweat pleading. Unlike most of my musical heroes, I actually saw him in concert. Granted he was at least 70, and I seriously feared for his health when he did his trademark chortle-snort, but I was in the presence of greatness. Nevermind that I was the youngest person there. (Really great Salon.com article linked; read it.)
"Little Boy Blue"
"If You're Gonna Walk on My Love"
"Jelly Jelly Jelly"
3. Patti LaBelle - If I were capable of idolizing people, I'd be all over the Patti thing. No one puts on a show like her. Sure, she'll be dipped to the high heavens, but she has a job to do and those stilettos will come flying off when things get truly serious. Patti will sing anybody under a table, and she doesn't even mean to. She's just doing her. Patti ain't no punk, y'all, for real.
"Over the Rainbow (Live)" -YouTube link because you have to see it.
"Walk Around Heaven All Day"
"You Are My Friend"
2. Sam Cooke - I'm pretty sure I don't have to explain this, and again, Chicago runs this. (Just in case you didn't know.)
"Nothing Can Change This Love"
"Lord, Remember Me" w/ Soul Stirrers
1. Donny Hathaway - You do not know how interested (obsessed) I was with this man's music some years back. I'm not creepy. I just wanted everyone to understand how great he was, that's all. Plus, he was a fellow Libra. Plus, he was a Chicagoan. Plus, his voice could conjure up sadnesses you didn't even know you had. Plus, you can't go a Christmas without hearing at least one of his songs. (Note: New singers, stop remaking "This Christmas"; you sound terrible.) Reader, if you're out there, I need you to know that Donny is more than "Giving Up" and "A Song For You" and "This Christmas"; there's a whole world of Donny that you're missing out on. For that reason, I'm gonna include more than my standard three audio files cuz I expect somebody somewhere needs some schooling.
