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Revisiting youthful obsession

It’s hard to get hot over a painting; there’s no equivalent for teenage obsessiveness. Art obsession is ideology. Ideology can be made sexy but it’s easier in music — Kim Gordon

My latest obsession is listening to Gaby Moreno perform the Spanish version of Blondie’s classic, Call Me.

The song isn’t available to download until this Friday (April 28) which is also the same day the movie How to be a Latin Lover — a comedy starring Eugenio Derbez and Salma Hayek — hits theatres in the U.S. The song was recorded for the film.

And since I don’t have Moreno’s version to listen to any time I damn well want, I’ll listen to the Spanish version Blondie did for their 1993 album Blonde and Beyond. I didn’t know they did a Spanish version until Moreno mentioned it in an interview regarding her interpretation of the classic.

This also goes to show you how long it’s been since I last kept track of the band. I was in my 20s figuring out what the fuck to do with my life so childhood heroes and inspirations were tucked away in the back of the mind. I’m still figuring out what the fuck I’m doing with my life. Hasn’t changed at all.

Anyway, I have the bloody song looped. I’m listen to it at home, in the shower, in the car… before I go to sleep. Maybe after I listen to it a thousand times, I’ll be fine. Of course, once I get Moreno’s version onto my playlist, the madness will continue. If you must, ignore the cheesy image that comes with the link to the song. Punch up the volume and give ‘er:

Unfortunately, I’m a little miffed. I can’t seem to find a Canadian release date for the film. April 28 is the U.S. release date. I’ve read somewhere the film might start off in limited release on the same day here in the land of poutine and Prairie skies before going nationwide.

Right now, I don’t see a upcoming listing of it for the local theatres. Heck, I didn’t even see it in the theatre trailers the last time I watched a feature film. Arrgh. Seriously, I want to see this film. I suppose my other option is to wait and see if it’ll show up on Netflix. Maybe I’ll resign myself to that for now. But, iTunes had better have Moreno’s Call Me available for download this Friday. Hell, I’ll download the entire soundtrack.

Now, that I’m done ranting (I think), I should explain that Blondie is the first band whose music I avidly listened to in my formative years. Parallel Lines was the first album I bought with my accumulated allowance. I might have played that album to death. I also might have bought a second copy because something happened to the first. Then their next album, Eat to the Beat, was quickly added to my one-album collection. Then I heard Call Me.

I never saw American Gigolo, simply because I was twelve at the time. I knew what a gigolo was but it wasn’t a solid enough reason for me to sneak into a movie theatre to watch it. My hormones weren’t raging yet and even if they did, I still wouldn’t have been interested enough to see what the scuttlebutt was over the film. I think it might have had something to do with Richard Gere. I don’t know. I just remember there was a fuss about him when the movie came out. Maybe I should try to find a copy of the film and watch it, once and for all (oh hey, it’s on iTunes. I know what I’ll be doing this week). But fuck, I loved that song. I’d dance around and lip-synch to Call Me. Yep, I did that shit. I’ll admit it.

Now that Call Me is back in obscenely heavy rotation on my iPod/iPhone, I’m back to lip-synching, in English and in Spanish, and jumping around the kitchen like a 12-year-old without a care in the world. Just living in the moment.

Call Me, without a doubt, is my favourite Blondie tune of all time. The Hardest Part is a very close second.

One of the things I love about them is how experimental their music was and how they never stuck to one style of music. There was punk, pop, disco and hip-hop all thrown together without a concern what anyone else thought of them. What they did seemed completely normal to me (this probably explains some of my creative and artistic endeavours — past and present). If there were debates about the different musical styles they dipped their collective toes in, I never heard it. And that was because I was too young to care or get caught up in those kinds of conversations. The fact the band recorded a French version of Sunday Girl is beyond cool. When I heard there was a French version of the song, I had to listen to it. I wasn’t aware of anyone else on my radar doing what they were doing. Not that I was geeking out in that way at the time.

Their latest album, Pollinator, is scheduled to drop May 5 and the scuttlebutt is it’s their best album in years. Definitely looking forward to listening to it.

Another thing I love about the band is Debbie Harry. She was my first female role model, outside of my mother. When the band broke out with Parallel Lines, Harry wasn’t a neophyte 20-something singer. She was in her early 30’s and to look at her, you wouldn’t know it. Yes, she is photogenic as fuck. Still a striking woman at 71. Yep, that’s how old she is right now. She has always understood and embraced her sexuality. She has never hesitated to flaunt it as the band’s front woman.

But I have always loved her voice. I love how she throws in a little sass and attitude into her vocals and how she phrases a lyric. Aside from being a singer, she’s an actor, a lyricist and a philanthropist. Regardless of the success or failures of her creative endeavours, she has always done things her way.

To be honest, she was my first woman/girl-crush.

The one thing you would never describe her as, is delicate. In my eyes, she has always been badass. And is still a badass. It’s one of the reasons, if not the MAIN reason I love and respect the woman. She led by example for me. She still leads by example.

I guess my goal, subconsciously, has always been to be a badass. Not sure how well that’s working, but I’m gonna keep trying, in my own little way. And I won’t stop trying.

Well, I better get back to blaring some music and not giving a shit.

Spinning my wheels

I’m restless. An energy is simmering in me, waiting to boil over. The wheels are spinning but they’re going nowhere.

Sure, I could keep busy with the everyday mundane but necessary bits of life. However, that’s just maintenance.

Maintenance, while necessary, can be really fucking boring. A major non-writing project was completed last Monday. But my commitment to the organization which is connected to the project, isn’t quite done yet. So, I’m in a bit of a limbo waiting for some elements to come my way to finish designing a smaller but final project for them. I’m hoping to be done in a couple of days.

I think I’m restless partly because it’s Spring. Being the transitional season it is, spring gets your brain out of winter to start preparing for summer. The non-writing project, which happens to be an annual gig, also happens to mark that transition for me. It signals that I will soon be free to dive back into the personal projects that ring true to my heart.

But knowing that doesn’t keep me from getting antsy and wanting to break free and run away somewhere with my fictional characters to spend some quality time with them. Well, I’m out of the winter phase, goddammit. And as much as I appreciate spring, I need to be in summer phase, to be in a more unencumbered, productive frame of mind.

The restlessness might also be partly due to some sort of delayed cabin fever. I’m itching to get out of my physical environment and wander off to parts unknown or parts I need to revisit. It’s more than wanting to be in another part of the country. It’s more like needing to be on another part of the continent or the other side of the planet.

Shed the things that want to define me as something I’m not. Get out from under some sort of oppressive weight. I need to be around people who naturally re-energize me. God knows I’m around enough energy-sucking vampires to know I need a break. There aren’t that many vampires around because I kicked a bunch of them out of my life. But the ones that remain can be really trying. We all have those vampires in our lives, right? And sometimes, having a wooden stake just sitting in your hand feels good, right?

This is what happens when I don’t spend enough time with my writing. Everything feels oppressive and I’m close to climbing the walls.

As you can see, I need to re-direct the restlessness and refocus. I need to get back to the writing process. That’s what it will take for me to settle down and feel grounded.

I’m tugging on the restraints big time and my characters are sorely tempted to grab a pair of bolt cutters and free me. But I’ve told them to wait a little longer. They actually do listening when they’re not barreling around like mad lunatics vying for my attention.

Soon, everything will fall away. Soon, everything will fall into place.

Taking risks

Creative risk taking is essential to success in any goal where the stakes are high. Thoughtless risks are destructive, of course, but perhaps even more wasteful is thoughtless caution which prompts inaction and promotes failure to seize opportunity — Gary Ryan Blair

As an artist — be it writer, painter, musician — creative risk taking is essential if you want to grow regardless of how high the stakes may or may not be. Figuring out how to do something is one thing. Taking what you’ve learned and throwing yourself into something that allows you to use that skill set in something you haven’t experienced before, is altogether exciting and terrifying.

In my own little way, I’ve always been a risk taker. Not the kind that puts you in mortal danger, unless you consider horseback riding life-threatening. I’m referring to the kind that takes you out of your comfort zone, where you discover something new about yourself.

Someone once joyfully (and I mean that in the most positive way) described me as having a reckless confidence. Reckless, not thoughtless. There’s a difference. In all my time here on this blue planet, no one had ever described me that way. I can be a lot of things. And I know I have been described as a lot of things. And I own all of it. And I really love owning reckless confidence.

Anyway, the risk taker in me has always been there. It only shows up when an opportunity or idea (good and bad) seizes my attention. I’d like to think these days that the opportunities or ideas are more good than bad. I’ve had my share of bad ideas when I was younger.

Without a doubt, my risk taking has unnerved some family members and friends. But only because they’re looking out for me. More often than not, my risk taking is a source of entertainment for these folks (my friends, in particular)… once I get around to informing them about what I’ve done.

Writing has allowed me, and is allowing me, to creatively take risks. Writing has opened doors to opportunities and interesting ideas that would have never appeared if I was doing something else.

The latest risk (it’s more of a challenge, quite honestly) which is to try screenwriting has me excited. I’ve been reading up on the subject, doing a little research and finding valuable resources before I start barreling into it, before I have to figure out how to juggle two writing projects. This isn’t a case of finish one and start on the other. Something tells me I need to work on both of them concurrently.

As I do the research, I sincerely believe working on the screenplay will only enhance my work as a novelist. That is exciting to me. I live for this kind of shit. I can’t wait to go through the process. Could be one helluva ride. It will definitely add to, and sharpen my skill set. It will make me a better writer, a better storyteller.

Start up the rollercoaster. Let’s go!