Waiting For Lady Gaga
Reykjavík, 9 October, 2012
On the madness of crowds.
Spontaneously assembled for the possibility of catching a glimpse of their idol.
The audience became the performance.
"Forty is an itchy age..." ~ Lois Farrow in The Last Picture ShowWhen I was in my late teens, the idea of socially relating to older women who weren't my relatives, coworkers or teachers, entered into my consciousness. I had started to hang out with a group of about six students at the junior college I was attending. I was probably the youngest, Elizabeth was the oldest. She lived up the hill behind the campus, behind the Walker Art Center, one of the more desirable residential areas of Minneapolis. Our "group" was loosely centered around our Humanities class. Elizabeth was probably under stimulated by her role as a housewife, so she took classes from time to time. Her husband, several years her junior, was a fashion buyer for a local department store. She evidently enjoyed my company, I think she found my immaturity amusing. Being with her was a refreshing change from the usual sexually-charged psychodrama I was involved in at the time.
Another time machine from the antique store:
The best for last. The best what is really the question. After a morning spent at The Brown Sheep Company, the Weaver and I drove all day along famous Highway 2 through the Sandhills of Nebraska. Really quite beautiful, it would be fun to go back and devote some serious time to capturing them in photographs. Our destination was The Farwell Arms, a B&B in the microscopic town of Farwell. It was nearly dark by the time we arrived, but the proprietors Joseph & Tina Standeven were waiting for us. The place was OTT in all aspects. Every wall, floor, nook and cranny was filled with antiques or decorative collectables. There were dozens and dozen of old radios, art prints, furniture and other esoterica everywhere. Tina proudly showed us her three kitchens, regaling us nonstop with stories about the house, the town, the mating of her dog(!) and whatever else came through her unfiltered consciousness. She's a treasure.
It had been quite a while, the last time I was here I won $80 in 5 minutes in a small casino in an old building on the main drag:
Samaris CD. It was released last summer on the One Little Indian label. It contains their first two EPs— all eight original tracks with the addition of four remixes. They've recently given stunning performances at Iceland Airwaves, and have several festival dates lined up for the new year. The group´s material comes from 18th century Icelandic poetry set to a minimal electronica background (created by Þórður Kári Steinþórsson) with vocal melodies by Jófríður Ákadóttir and layered with clarinet themes by Áslaug Rún Magnúsdóttir. I've been hearing bits and pieces of this all year, although lo-fi video clips don't do this music justice. I caught them last year at the now demolished Faktorý—a crazy gig in a sweltering room full of yakkers:
Scott City, Kansas
"... what was the single most important thing we could do as a family to improve our health and general well being? "