GREATEST SONG EVER : UNLESS IT'S KICKS (OKKERVIL RIVER).

If you play DJ mixmaster with your breakfast cereal,

If you dig Bob Dylan and Dylan Thomas and Spoon,

If you believe in open windows and loud music in the morning,

If you incessantly tap your foot to an internal rhythm whether there's music going or not,

And if you dream of a universe where Johnny Cash and Social Distortion share a stage with the Old 97s, then

you really oughta take a listen to Okkervil River's Unless It's Kicks,

and after that, listen to everything else they've done. Then, go start your own band.

Toppa Tuesday morning, world.

Okkervil River
Unless It's Kicks
The Stage Names
2007

MGMT / KIDS + MIKE.

(in which I speak of the greatest song ever, MGMT and non-carbon footprints):

I have a relative. Mike. Really cool guy.
Skis hard all winter. Works hard the rest of the year so he can…
ski hard. 

I only see Mike once a year. But when I do, we have great discussions about the state of the world, about rock & roll from the 60s and 70s, which is best of the Qatsi trilogy, et cetera. 

One of our conversations from several years ago, he made the statement that when he dies, he wants all traces of him gone. He does not want to leave a footprint on the earth. I respectfully disagreed with him then, and still do.

I want to leave a footprint. Not in the carbon sense, but in the sense of leaving something behind that will transcend my own lifespan. When Errol Morris passes away, he will have left a body of work; a series of films behind him that will be watched far into the future.

When Mozart died, he left a beautiful body of work behind him that still has a passionate audience. 

The wheel. AC/DC power. The light. Penicillin. Velcro. The guy who invented coffee. And people who move the world in an emotional or spiritual or intellectual sense. Musicians, artists, architects. Filmmakers and craftspeople and writers and puppeteers who move the world. 

There are people who inspire change at a massive level. The Gandhis. The M.L. Kings. The Richard P.F. Hughes. The people who, by the power of their leadership, are able to set in motion changes that will affect hundreds or thousands or millions of people for decades to come. I guess I am fascinated by what people leave behind. It can be said that 'you bring children into the world to grow up and become responsible, caring, creative citizens of the world...and that is your legacy, that is your contribution.' 

That is certainly a priority. One of the highest priorities for me. But on a personal level, I do have the desire, the mandate to pursue - maybe not to achieve - but to constantly pursue the creation of a lasting contribution, in the manner of those I admire:

Mozart,an Agnes Varda, Frank Lloyd Wright,an Andy Warhol, a Duke Ellington andKurt Vonnegut, aMargaret Meade or Tom Waits,Errol Morris or Alexander Calder or Richard Scarry.

I want to leave something behind that is unique and beautiful enough to survive…me.

Sort of like MGMT's Kids. The Penny Lane of last decade. A song that will survive the passings of its creators. Because: with its gritty, fuzzed-out electro chorus, it is an anthem - one of the first important anthems of this century - that many acknowledge (including myself) as the greatest song of all time. I would like to have my Kids, my Ode to Joy, my gift to the future.

Mike: as long as we keep having conversations, and I keep remembering them and writing bits of them down, your footprint will have at least have a shadow. It will live. You rock.
____

MGMT
Kids
Oracular Spectacular
2007

Blue Hawks from the Sea

Seahawks game face. Dueling with Uncle Matt. Gevalia raspberry chocolate blend brewing.

Sunday morning blues. Not a half-bad life.

Sitting in Front of Mirror in the Rain

Yesterday, Magsley started sitting.

Very noncommittal. Oh, you guys noticed? I've been able to do this forever. Just been waiting for some space.

Yaks away. Probably has more vocal inflections than I've amassed in three decades.

Astounding, sweet, chirpy little voice that makes it unbelievably difficult to be in a foul temper after hearing it. Like people with martyr complexes must have felt after meeting Helen Keller. Just tough to return to the down-in-the dumps framework.

Was a socialist though. Almost as bad as eating pork, or ostrich.

Punchline of Unkie Metal Bobby

Her sense of humor continues to evolve. I suppose welcoming my daughter with a "Hi! Give Dad a big kiss!" and flying her over my head was not the brightest idea, particularly after a lengthy breakfast.* Being the butt of a joke is never the optimal position, but I have to admit I was rather proud that she displayed such a sophisticated sense of comedic timing. Buster and Charlie woulda been proud.

The quizzical look on her face might be the result of my having to shriek at her. Something I hate to do, but have to do with some regularity. Shrieking is quite underrated. Try it.

*milk
___


Uncle Bobby, or "Unkie Bobby," as she likes to call him. Though technically it's a child-of-a-cousin thing, which would make her his, uhh, ... oh forget it.

Uncle Bobby.

More on last weekend later.

Bobby is heavily recruiting her for his side project, an experimental death-klezmer sextet featuring kazoos, rattles and shop equipment.

Three Month Update

I remember reading that a three-month old has more in common with an adult than with a newborn.

Now I understand.

(note: this post was started on the 9th)

Today marks Magdelana's three-month mark. Hard to believe how fast our little girl grew up. Seems like just yesterday she was an inarticulate infant.

And now she's smiling, spitting, holding her neck up, drooling, squawking, pooping, and playing the piano all by herself. Wow.

Today she graduated to size 2 diapers. Small step for her, big step for us doing less laundry as a result of defiled clothing.

Also today: was feeding her boob milk from the bottle, as is customary when Mum is not in the vicinity. Magsley was not thrilled with my handling of her bottle, so decided to take action. Thrust my hand aside, grasped the tubular container with all ten intertwined chubby fingers, and proceeded to chug the rest of her lunch down, followed by a very self-satisfied smug grin in her Dad's face (i.e. Me), and a soprano-ish delicate belch of digestive delight. Very, uhh, startling.

Whimpering infant cry is turning into larynx-scraping shriek, on occasion.


Listening:
Bishop Allen
Joseph Arthur
Peter, Paul & Mary | along with Mum's sing-a-long verbatim at 5:30 in the a.m.
Figurine
Chicks on Speed | No they do not have a kiddie album but she loves the beats. and so do I. In 'yo face.

Reading:
Goodnight Moon
Happy Baby ABCs
Farm Animals
the Monty Python Official Scrapbook
Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs | excerpts only

Rehearsal

Magdelana's first wedding rehearsal. Was actually Mum who was in it, so we just stood around outside watching water and practicing standing. She's getting quite confident with her legs. Irritated that she can't manage it on her own.

I've never been very public about our French lineage, but after seeing her in a beret, it may be time to make a deal about it. Pretty darn hip.

Loves to wake up five minutes after us in the morning (4:40-ish) and squawk and grin away while we're getting ready. Stays up for around 40 minutes, then slips back to la-la land.

What a life.

Vomitus Exitus

Yes, that is vomit on Becca's shirt. Or spitup, as we euphemistically refer to the liquid substance that babies-on-the-boob extricate daintily.

Becca was furious, as is evident.

M discovered her hands yesterday. Stared them for several minutes, waggling them around, found it very entertaining. As did we.

Her cry is sounding so grown-up the past few days. Less and less walrus, more and more goat. Starting to get the whine-thing down. Extremely cute.

Every once in a while you stumble across an invention where you think to yerself Wow, whoever invented that really deserved to hit it big. The Hooter Hider would be one of those inventions. What a stylish, functional accessory. I have been begging Becca to continue wearing it as a cape after Maggie's finished with the milking thing.

Seriously, it is just such a hot accessory. When Becc wears her red boots, sassy smile, and Hooter Hider cape...whew.

Magslie has got one hot mum.

Ambidextrous?

Very, very busy.

But life is very, very good.



















New:
1. Loves to stand up every chance she gets.
2.Difficult to tell yet whether she'll be a true lefty or not. Becca and I are crossing our fingers, just hoping we have a southpaw on our hands. When I say we, I mean me. Apparently Magsley's buddy Dylan, senior by over a year, is showing signs of favoritism with the left hand. I'm just hoping it will rub off on her. We can all hope. And pray.
3. I have been trying my whole life to be a lefty. I secretly wanted to break my right arm when I was younger, like Bob Cousy, so I would be forced to use only my left. Unfortunately I was a little too cowardly to ever break it intentionally, and (also unfortunately) I never had it happen by accident either. So here I am, pretty much a southpaw in a rightie's body.
4. As of last week, Magdelana has figured out how to jam her fist into her mouth. Answer to everybody's question: BOTH fists. Which means she's probably ambidextrous.

YES! I knew it.

28 is a Good One

Becca's 28th.

A lovely evening, capped with Jamey's surprise return from Germany.

September. A very busy month. Celebrated our fifth anniversary a few days ago. Hiked Beacon Rock with the little red big-cheeked bug.

Loves to wobble on her feet. Very anxious to be moving independently of her parents. Fortunately, genetics should prevent her from being mobile for a few more months. Still quite the fan of drooling, smiling, and tooting.

Every week's a little more fun.

Listening:
Herb Alpert
Mates of State
Jimmy Eat World

Sad

Becca's first full day back to work. M and I strapping it on our own for a bit. Actually, she's zonked in her seat next to me, so I actually am getting some work done.

Two months + two days old.

New:
1. Got three shots yesterday. Becca and I couldn't watch. Feels like betrayal. Would have almost been better if she screamed. Instead, she just sobbed. There's no conscious long-term memory at this age. Right?

2. 11 pounds, 7 oz. Puts her in the 75th percentile for weight. No idea whether it's something to brag about or not but it's great to see her filling out.
Very cute.

3. Lifting and keeping her head up for 10-15 seconds. Gets very frustrated with herself, and at whoever is watching, at not being able to stay up longer.
Quite cute.

4. Talking. A lot. And drooling. A lot. I will be very sad when she stops slobbering all over everything, including my clean polos. I'm all for crushing social stigma boundaries but I suppose we'll have to let her rediscover drooling on her own, later on in life, if she so desires.
So cute.

5. Has the most Cleopatra-like poses. Arms crossed, tucked under her chin, or dainty little digits pointing askew like Ms. Hepburn taking tea. Regalness personified. Like she's in a permanent photo-shoot and can't decide whether she wants to be Confucius or Cheryl Tiegs.
Utterly cute.

Listening:
1. Cat Stevens Teaser and the Firecat
2. David Bowie
3. Jack Johnson Curious George sndtrk
4. Jessie Sykes Like, Love, Lust & The Open Halls of the Soul
5. Vive Voce

What Goes In

Girl knows how to work a diaper. Model of cinematic efficiency. Filled with the playing-it-straight facial expressiveness of Charlie Chaplin and scored by the quiet thunders of a squeaky freight train aurally colliding with a cute little tenor foghorn. Wants it changed in the next ten seconds or there will be shrieking involved. Shrieking that is heartbreaking yet comical in its complete intensity and earnestness. Does not like wet or soiled diapers, to use the most euphemistic term possible. Apparently a certain brother-in-law of mine once enjoyed the warmth that full diapers provided and would become quite irate when clean fresh ones were forced upon him.

Not Magdelana. She wants hers clean and she wants them that way ten minutes ago.

Donald Jr. made the comment that "Trumps don't do diapers."

Aside from the fact that he's an idiot for at least 23 other reasons, I would like to comment that it's sad. Sad that he's missing out on a great opportunity to be a cool dude to his kid. Cool in the way that MacArthur must have felt returning to the Phillipines.

He got to do that only once. Unless Maggie is an aberration, a two-month old provides many diaper-changing opportunities over the course of a day. And night. And the sloppy grin she reciprocates for a clean diaper is completely worth it.

A lot of things in life are complicated. Changing my daughter's diaper is not. I get to be a very cool dude in her eyes for doing something amazingly simple. She may not ever consciously remember, but somewhere seeping into her memory bank has to be the recognition that her dad is the funny-haired guy making her life better. I'd be an idiot not to seize that bonding opportunity. Smelly, pungent, visually disgusting? Sure. But in a moment of brutal self-assessment let's just say I don't always have the most beautific odor either.

Listening:
Man From Snowy River Soundtrack
Cat Stevens Teaser and the Firecat
Sondre Lerche Faces Down
Luna Romantica

Grand Archives

This dress + hat was handmade by DeeAnna Dennis. Amazing. Magdelana's pleasure is evident. Very cool.

Loves showers. Loves to dine. Loves to dine in the shower. What a life.

Pet Peeve Notes:
1 | people who list pet peeves. so juvenile.
2 | people asking if "she's good." what do you mean, is she good? she's seven weeks old! when she's hungry, she cries. when she wants her diaper changed, she cries. when she feels like crying, she cries. there is not one second of her existence that I have not enjoyed, nor has there been a millisecond when I would describe her as "not good."
3 | I refuse to acknowledge whether or not I have ever asked another parent that question.

Loves music. Band of Horses, Beethoven, Duke Ellington, Donovan, her dad. Loves to be sung to.

Post-delivery, the only song I could think to sing on the car ride home was "Tomorrow." The adorable little orphan song from Annie. After seven weeks I still only know about two lines, but I hum/rap/sing that couplet to Maggie about 30 times a day and she seems to dig it.

Prime time: 7-10 am. Been smiling a lot. Huge. Quite the comedian. Favorite trick: (note: also only trick): pooping 20 seconds after diaper has been changed and entire new clean outfit has been dutifully buttoned up.

Have to mention a quick something about my buddy Chad up in Puyallup. Only met him last week actually, but when three hours of intense A-Z music conversation melts away like mint chocolate chip on a sugarcone, you know you got something special. Evening's end found ourselves parting with a handshake, a hug, and a new buddy. And in my case, a new unreleased press of Grand Archives, which freaking ROCKS! In a very quiet, melancholy way that is reminiscent of early-R.E.M.

Have to go.

Listening:
Grand Archives EP
Donovan Pied Piper
Albert Hammond Yours To Keep
Mozart
How to Learn French

Video : Magdelana Assists Jonny

Click here to play video of M and Uncle working.

Video: Magdelana's Favorite Band

Uncle Jeremy and the Colorblind Soldiers rehearsing
"Remember You Remember Me."

shot by joseph.

Hippety, and the Essence of Gertrude Stein

As I was dancing my way around the living room with M, listening to Moonlight Sonata for the 7000th time of my existence, I had two thoughts about parenthood. Two rights you renounce, or perhaps attitudes/behaviors you deprioritize. Or should, if your kid's well-being is is atop the Important Things in Life list.

1. You lose the right to be self-destructive. Out: BASE jumping (for a while anyway), John Daniels for breakfast, passing on blind spots, not flossing daily.

2. You lose the right to (try to) be hip. Not that it's troubled me greatly since around age 16 (at which point I had already tried, and failed mightily, though I still think my twin obsessions with Queensryche and Paula Abdul the Musician should qualify me for some pre-ironic hipster cred. Anyway. These thoughts were spurred by oversaturated memories of Moonlight Sonata. A beautifully ferocious little ditty, but one that Ludwig himself probably tired of after hearing over and over and over. And over.

But is M.S. a poor piece of music because I've heard it too much? No! Does my daughter lose the right to enjoy a beautiful composition because I'm tired of it? No! One of the elusive characteristics of hip is its ability to shift and jive and stay on the forefront of what's new and fresh and different. But I have a child now who doesn't know anything aside from how to eat, sleep, and make simultaneous body noises from different exit points. She hasn't experienced any of the art or music I have and she deserves to, regardless of how unexcited I might be at the prospect of wading through drivel again. Are we going to listen to Charlie Parker, Anna Oxygen, and the Dropkick Murphys? (i.e. what I like now?) Yes. Are we going to listen to Alvin and the Chipmunks, Kids Praise Sing, and Für Elise? (i.e. what's not at the top of my chosen playlist?) Uhhh, yesss. And it's all gonna be worth when it brings THAT smile (see below image).

There is a freedom and joy in rediscovery. Flight from hipness is very hip. Gertrude Stein said that, or me did.

We are having such a grand time.

Gute nacht.

Video: Chinese lessons

Click here to play movie of Magdelana studying Mandarin.

Quite sure the pronunciation is flawless. Private lessons are available, beginning at $75 per half hour + lunch. '08 Olympics, here we come.

Listening:
Brazilian Girls
Beethoven
Jose Gonzalez

Video: French Linguistics, Bergman-style

Click here to play movie of Magdelana trying to learn French. Love to say she picked it right up, but she's really struggling with verb conjugation. Finally gave up and napped. Or, hollered for Dad to come play. Which he did.

So I taught her how to air-sax to Charlie Parker instead.

Lanessa + Henry

Bit of a controversy brewing over Lanessa's continued referral to her niece as "Henry."Henry was the name given to the being in Becca's belly before we knew the gender.* This name was appointed by Becca's grandfather, Grandpa Vic, and received considerable use up until the ultrasound. Lanessa, however, kept up the nomenclature, and has received censure from a certain twerp brother of hers for still using it.
It should be noted she bounces between Henry and Maggie.

It should also be noted that this is the girl who has been faithfully writing to Magdelana every single night for the past several months. My rulebook says that earns you a Suez Canal-size exception in the nickname department.

Others?

*her father knew all along. seriously.

Listening
Mr. Charlie Parker

Magdelana + Torsten

Click here to play video of Magdelana and her cousin Torsten.