In discussions of the best single-artist Christmas album of all time, you could do a lot worse than James Brown's Funky Christmas, which is actually a distillation of three Christmas albums he recorded from 1966-1970. Brown actually rivals Sufjan Stevens in the wealth of really great Christmas songs he's recorded that are both seasonally appropriate and completely in his own personality. This is just one of many in that respect, but man, does it make me happy.
Yes, the whole album. Every song - whether whimsical and jaunty, thoughtful and meditative, or just plain silly, is a shot of pure joy. As albums go, I can think of none that so crystallize the spirit of Christmas (whatever that is) than this one. I've grown weary of the actual TV special over the years, perhaps mostly because it can't seem to go more than two minutes without a commercial interruption (I should stop watching it on cbs.com), but the music has always been what moves this slice of mid-20th Century anti-commercial commercialism.
I've actually never been there during the Christmas season, but I've been enough in the warmer months to know what it means to miss New Orleans. And when I hear about "magnolia trees at night sparklin' bright" while "a barefoot choir in prayer fills the air, Mississippi fools gatherin' there," I know I'm one of those fools.
I'm a big fan of the Very Special Christmas franchise - have been since I shoplifted the first volume on cassette in 1987. What I think I love most about the songs gathered over its first three volumes (I lost interest after 1997) is how so many artists whose work I wasn't really into rose to the occasion to deliver original songs or reinventions of standards that felt - still feel - were/are Christmas to me. I designate this song by Billy Idol, which for all I know is an original, an honorary Very Special Christmas Song. Alas, I found it tacked on the end of a compilation titled Monster Ballads Xmas, with fourteen predictably glammed-up versions of predictably-selected popular favorites by Warrant, Dokken, Winger, et al that tend to run together. And then there's track 15. I love how Billy Idol somehow manages to channel Burl Ives, pulling us all around the fire and telling us it'll be alright while winking with mirth at the absurdity of the whole Christmas enterprise.
Tomorrow, in fact. No, I can't promise that you'll wake up and the past month (hell, year!) will have just been an entire season of Dallas, but I am here to give you - and myself - a little respite. This Christmas season I just couldn't bear to put together another 12 days of miserable Christmas songs (plus, my mother-in-law made me promise I wouldn't), so I'm going in the opposite direction: 12 Unrepentantly Happy Days of Christmas Songs.
As per the past couple of years, I'll give you a song a day leading up to Christmas, starting tomorrow. You can use it. In the meantime, soak in the misery of last year and the year before, if only to escape the misery of this year.
Hi, everyone. I've taken a couple of days to soak in the much-needed good news that the Army Corps of Engineers declined an easement, effectively halting DAPL work, at least temporarily - make no mistake, this is a significant victory, but not a long-term one. I've just heard that tribal leader Dave Archambault III has asked non-Sioux protesters to leave for the winter, as tribe elders and representatives meet with the Corps of Engineers and (hopefully) Sunoco and ETP.
Today I added the two main camps and an important documentarian of Standing Rock to my sources for the project, under the tab above. So much to add, and I'm also reaching out to people and organizations I've met while there and haven't yet met. Much more to come!
Many of you who know me, know that I spent some time with the water protectors at Standing Rock earlier this month. I've really struggled since returning home to contextualize the struggle and my own place within it, finally coming to this conclusion: I am a writer, and my primary function should to document. To that end, I'm developing what I'm tentatively calling a digital oral history. I'm not sure exactly how this will end up, but my general intention right now is to collect as many different voices as I can, and organize the voices contextually as I go. I'll be updating regularly, and will indicate recently added material. You can find the tab in the menu above, or click here.
My first addition is Voices of Standing Rock, a project of the Iktče Wičháša Oyáte, or Common Man Collective, of Standing Rock. Their interviews are elucidating and personal, including both indigenous voices and the extended family of non-indigenous friends. They are a crowdfunded enterprise, so if you are looking for a good cause to donate to, you can do that here via YouCaring.
I HAVE A SNEAKING SUSPICION YOU WOULD ALSO SAY, "STOP CRYING. IT'S ONLY CANCER."
DON'T EVEN SAY THINGS ARE GOING TO GO ON AS USUAL. SO FAR, THE MAN YOU ELECTED HAS DESIGNATED A RAVING CLIMATE CHANGE CONTRARIAN TO HEAD THE ENVIRONMENTAL PROTECTION AGENCY'S TRANSITION TEAM, MADE A WHITE SUPREMACIST HIS CHIEF STRATEGIST, AND MADE A FRINGE SENATOR WHO EVEN REAGAN SAW AS TOO RACIST TO BE HIS ATTORNEY GENERAL. IN A NUTSHELL, HE'S APPOINTING PEOPLE TO DESTROY THE INSTITUTIONS THEY HEAD. AND WE'RE JUST A WEEK OUT OF THE ELECTION.
AND STOP WITH THIS BULLSHIT ABOUT GOD BEING IN CONTROL AND SEEING MORE THAN WE DO. 1) THERE MOST LIKELY IS NO GOD. SORRY. 2) DONALD TRUMP WOULD AGREE WITH ME ON POINT #1, IF HE WERE TO ACTUALLY GIVE IT ANY THOUGHT BEYOND HOW IT WOULD GET YOU TO VOTE FOR HIM. 3) IF THERE WAS A GOD AND THAT GOD IMPOSED DONALD TRUMP ON OUR COUNTRY, THEN GOD HATES THE U.S.A.
THIS WAS NOT "JUST AN ELECTION," THOUGH IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN THE ONLY ELECTION IN WHICH YOU ACTUALLY VOTED. AND DON'T SAY YOU VOTED FOR OBAMA THE LAST ELECTION, OR TRUMP'S ELECTION IS NO WORSE THAN OBAMA'S. YOU JUST VOTED FOR THE LEAST QUALIFIED CANDIDATE OF OUR LIFETIME, IF NOT AMERICAN HISTORY. IF YOU THINK THAT'S A GOOD THING, I INVITE YOU TO HAVE THE PERSON IN SEAT 6C (OR WHATEVER SEAT, YOU CAN CHOOSE) NAVIGATE THE PLANE ON YOUR NEXT FLIGHT. IF YOU SEE OUR COUNTRY'S GOVERNMENT AS THAT PLANE AND YOU WANT IT TO CRASH, THEN YOU ARE THE PERSON IN SEAT 6C NAVIGATING THE PLANE.
So, a week has passed. It seems like much, much longer. I went to Standing Rock, and my country has a new president. I just finished writing a piece about my trip, and now I have to think on this new, ugly reality.
Ah, well. More Sneaky Feels starting tomorrow, and I promise you'll be reading about me and Standing Rock soon.
Thanks to my colleague and teaching partner Nayma Qayum, I'll be discussing this recent piece from The Atlantic with my classes today as we begin our section on persuasive writing, with a focus shifted toward argumentation-as-understanding. Tomorrow I will vote, and the day after that I will be heading out to Standing Rock with Bill Housworth, an ardent Trump supporter who is also one of my oldest friends. We'll undoubtedly argue constantly and joyfully, as only people who understand each other as people can argue, when we're not too busy finding common ground in the mutual work we're doing and our shared heritage. It's going to be a very good week.
The last Sneaky Feel of this week's residency is an intentional anti-climax. Enjoy our shared quotidian middle, friends.
True story: I mostly dictated this one into my iPhone while driving down 9A one Thursday night (evidence below). Read it here!
Day 3, and I'm gonna hit you hard with this one. We all get the feels, but what are you going to do?
It's Day 2 of the Awst Press residency and here comes Sneaky Feel #13, in which Sylvia Plath and discomfort coexist in awkward liminal space (I know, big surprise).
Rave on, Sneaky Feelers!
Today marks the first day of the Sneaky Feels' weeklong residency at Awst Press's website! They'll be posting one a day all week.
Here's Monday's, #12, in which we go on the road, or On the Road, as the case may be.
Ok, so I'll put up two more SF's tomorrow and Friday, then next week is Awst Press's turn to host them! Tatiana Ryckman has chosen five new ones that fit together quite nicely, I think. Hope you do too.
I'm ultra-excited to announce that some lucky Sneaky Feels will have a special place with the wonderful Awst Press during the last week of October! Five special, all-new Feelies have been assembled by editor Tatiana Ryckman for a limited (read: into online perpetuity) run that week, one a day Monday through Friday. It's a Halloween Spectacular (that really has nothing to do with the holiday)!
I can't wait to tell you about it! In the meantime, here comes another one!
I know, this "locker talk" stuff has been worked to death, but...
When I was in high school, I was on the football team. I didn't play much, but I was on the team. I remember plenty of "locker room talk," whether it was in the locker room or at the lunch table or wherever. One guy, in an intimate moment, confessed that he'd lost his virginity the previous weekend by raping an unconscious girl at a party. (He of course didn't use the word "rape.") I remember being deeply disturbed, but saying nothing; he was a big guy, and no one else seemed to think he did anything wrong. But I still think about that guy. In fact, when I hear Donald Trump and his "locker talk" I think of him and hope he feels a deep remorse that Trump seems incapable of.
But there was another guy on the football team who was at that lunch table, or locker, or wherever it was this rapist made his disclosure. That other guy, who is still my friend, would be embarrassed if I named him, so I won't. But I remember him waiting silently until the talk died down and he had their attention. "She's very young to have gone through that," he said, and got up and left. That moment of empathy for a person we'd collectively deemed just a body that got raped - I didn't say anything, so I was complicit - has stuck with me for twenty-five years as an act of courage and civil disobedience against a male culture intent on justifying and perpetuating its own violence.
Everything I told you is just talk, just like Donald Trump says his "locker room" conversation is just talk. But speech is action, just as silence is inaction. Not speaking out against a man running for our highest office who brags about sexually assaulting women is complicity in propagating rape culture, and it's not something for which we should easily forgive ourselves.