I want to catch something that I might be ashamed of

I ask you, *must* there be this overly dramatic buildup to getting sick? Every time I start taking a cold (today, for instance), I suffer through coughing, chills, fever, fatigue -- all the stuff outlined on every over-the-counter medicine bottle you'll find at the local pharmacy. The thing is, these symptoms are just *hinted* at the first day I know I'm inevitably going to get really, really sick; the real misery begins, I'm guessing, tomorrow. Tonight I'll go to bed early in a pathetic attempt to stave off the horrible, full-blown cold I'll have the rest of this week. And I'll still have to come in to work each day. How do I know I'm getting sick? Things smell funny today. For me, that's always the first clue. Also, I feel like I could sack out right here on the floor at work -- right this instant. Only happens when I'm about to start bargaining with God to make my throat stop aching. *sigh* This is what happens to people like us who live in a highly industrialized society in which workers only get seven sick days per year. I've got four left and I'm trying to save them for the yearly flu I know I'll get later this winter. Infecting your co-workers isn't exactly going to win you many popularity awards, either.

There are some books, records and films I can read/listen to/watch over and over again. And each time I read/listen to/see them, it's a refreshing experience. Today I was thinking about the few special faves I have and why they're important to me. Here are a few of my favorite things:
-- S.E. Hinton's 1967 novel "The Outsiders": Unlike 99.9% of American schoolchildren, I never, ever had to read this book as part of a junior high English class. My older cousins did, though, and since I thought they were so much cooler than me, I unceremoniously lifted my cousin Dennis's copy back in 1986 (heh... sorry, Dennis; didn't mean to get you in trouble with your teach). Because I was never forced to overanalyze every simile and metaphor in "The Outsiders," I enjoyed the text for its relative simplicity (compared with the other books kids my age read for school back then). Sure, it's actually a complex work that merits all the scrutiny English teachers everywhere give it. But at its core, "The Outsiders" is simply a story about families -- in this case, an extended family of underprivileged teen boys, gang-like in their appearance -- and the search for respect and identity. I applaud S.E. Hinton for penning this fab book, which never fails to pique my imagination each time I read it. The best scene in the book is the early Ponyboy/Johnny/Dallas confrontation with Cherry Valance (still my fave girly-girl character name of all time) and her friend, Marsha, at the drive-in. No matter how many times I read "The Outsiders," a part of me wishes Dallas and Cherry would've rated their own chapter and that they'd have fallen in love, somehow. But I'm just a sappy romantic at heart.
-- The Smiths, "The Queen Is Dead": Not only do I consider this The Smiths' penultimate album, I also think it's perhaps one of the finest pure pop albums ever made. And I'm not just saying that because I'm a Smiths fan. Morrissey's lyrics here are some of his most personal, I believe, and for my money, Johnny Marr's jangly guitar riff on the extended, repetitive outro to "Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others" goes down in pop history as one that's right up there with Keith Richard's intro riff on "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction." The phrase "pure pop bliss" is a mite overused in music reviewing but it's appropos for "The Queen Is Dead," which also offers up (again, in my opinion) the finest Smiths cover art ever.
-- Films: I admit that I don't have the patience to sit through many movies (it's that darn restless Gemini thing), but here are a few I could watch endlessly:

--"To Sir, With Love"
--"Manhattan Murder Mystery"
--"Breaking Away"
--anything by John Waters
--"Fast Times At Ridgemont High"; "Singles" (both Cameron Crowe films; LOVE that man)
--"The Thomas Crown Affair" (the original '60s version with Steve McQueen and Faye Dunaway)
--"Love Story" ("Geez, Ollie... Would'ja please...? Would'ja pleeeease...?")
--"Little Darlings" (Kristy McNichol was never cooler)
--"Heathers"
--"Midnight Cowboy"
--"This Is Spinal Tap"
--"All The President's Men" (journalism junkies unite)

There are many others but I'm too stuffy and puny-feeling to remember them now. I need a nap. One more thing: If you don't own the CD "14 Songs" by Paul Westerberg, you should. That's it. I'm off for some much-needed OJ.

P.S. One cool thing I've done in the past six months: Back in May, I read a hilarious book by Brett Leveridge, titled "Men My Mother Dated." Brett's e-mail was listed in the book and I mailed him to let him know how much I enjoyed the book. He responded and was exceptionally nice. His funny website, brettnews.com, is well worth your time, slacker. Cheers!

I can't give it away on 7th Avenue

Smiths fans, prick up your ears -- or eyes, rather. Ever dreamed of putting your own obscure "cover stars" from film or TV on the mix tapes you make for friends? Well, I have and believe you me, nabbing good cover star pix from the Net isn't as cinchy as it may sound. At last, there's a site where you can steal pixies of really weird-looking second bananas whom you've probably seen on oodles of shows or films. You may not have known who they were but now you shall. Check out What-A-Character.com to see more jpegs of the semi-famous than you'd ever dream possible. May I suggest going straight to the "Rs" and digging the ever-swank Diana Rigg (the original and best Emma Peel from "The Avengers") and the way-coolly named Blossom Rock, whose on-site photo, resplendent with startled expression, is alone worth the price of admission. Morrissey would be so proud... *sniff*

I'm probably the only person geeky enough to watch NBC's new Monday night "journalism" show, "Deadline" (Mondays, 9 p.m.), but hey -- you offer me Lili Taylor, even in a background TV role, and I'm taking, ho-dad. FYI, fellow Lili fans, our girl had one of THE best television lines I've ever heard. After openly mocking her editor's Scots accent in a news story meeting on the last "Deadline" episode, said Scottish editor asked her why she was making fun of him in public. Lili's line: "It just felt right -- like breaking into song in a musical." Bet your bottom dollar I'll be ripping that one off for my own one-liners down the road. And only the three people who ever even see this page will be hep to my scheme. Heh heh heh... For the curious, the fabulously trashy New York Post serves up some of the cheesiest headlines around each and every day of the week. If I had MY way, I'd dish out some snarky headers here at my own paper but, well, a girl can dream, can't she?

The dangling conversation and the superficial sighs mark the borders of our lives

The paper's theater critic committed suicide recently and our online group created a nice "In Memoriam" page featuring his work. I'm no wordsmith -- I wish I were and I try my best each day -- but this fellow was. I didn't know him but I'd read his articles off and on. He was insightful and his writing was an easy read -- challenging, yes, but off-putting, no. My idea of someone well-versed in his craft.

Last night, as he worked on the page, one of my co-workers said, "How could he be so into things like Dr. Seuss and still be depressed?" Basically, he couldn't understand how the man presented a happy face to the world while he personally must've been struggling inside. It was quiet here last night, as it always is after seven p.m. when most of the staff leaves for the day, and I wanted to tell him, "It's not as difficult as you think. People do it every day and unless you've been through it yourself it's tough to explain."

Our critic's suicide wasn't the real point of this entry. Something he wrote is and it's this: The University of Texas (Austin) reopened its infamous bell tower a while back. The tower had been closed since a serial killer shot a number of people from it in a 1966 spree. The critic said he, in 1966 a 12-year-old, still got chills as an adult remembering the horror of that day. Apparently, if you were there, the memory sticks with you. One of my favorite English profs at GSU, Dr. K, once excellently illustrated the concept of coincidence and fate to us with his own UT bell tower story. Then an upstart prof at UT, Dr. K said he was crossing the quad when he ran into a friend he hadn't seen in about four years. The friend's sister had been one of the nurses murdered in the early '60s in Chicago by serial killer Richard Speck. At the precise moment Dr. K was expressing his condolences to his friend, he said the shots started ringing out from the bell tower. His point to us: What were the odds of him, not having seen his friend in years because of a serial killer's actions, running into the man at UT at the exact moment another serial killer went on a spree? Random, he told us, it's all random when you think about it. Everyone in class seemed bored by this story but it struck me as one of the finest illustrative stories I'd ever heard. I've never forgotten it and won't, probably because Dr. K spoke so quietly when telling us what happened.

You Should Be Dancing

I found this list of the "100 Greatest Dance Songs" on another desk here at work. Obviously, I have SERIOUS complaints about the apparent choices and their rankings. Here are the top twenty (I'll add more as I can). Read on:

1. "I Will Survive" -- Gloria Gaynor (1975)
2. "Don't Leave Me This Way" -- Thelma Houston (1977)
3. "We Are Family" -- Sister Sledge (1979)
4. "Vogue" -- Madonna (1990)
5. "The Hustle" -- Van McCoy (1975)
6. "Last Dance" -- Donna Summer (1978)
7. "Y.M.C.A." -- The Village People (1979)
8. "The Twist" -- Chubby Checker (1960)
9. "Gonna Make You Sweat" -- C&C Music Factory (1991)
10. "Stayin' Alive" -- Bee Gees (1978)
11. "Respect" -- Aretha Franklin (1967)
12. "Get Down Tonight" -- KC & The Sunshine Band (1975)
13. "Love's Theme" -- Love Unlimited Orchestra (1974)
14. "You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)" -- Sylvester (1979)
15. "It Takes Two" -- Rob Base & DJ E Z Rock (1988)
16. "Don't Stop Till You Get Enough" -- Michael Jackson (1979)
17. "Disco Inferno" -- The Trammps (1978)
18. "Dancing In The Street" -- Martha & The Vandellas (1964)
19. "Shame" -- Eveyln "Champagne" King (1978)
20. "Got To Be Real" -- Cheryl Lynn (1979)

Disco-heavy much? Okay, no one can argue that dance songs and disco don't go hand in hand. Disco's sole purpose was to get folks out on the dance floor. But note the glaring omissions from this Top 20 list: James Brown, Marvin Gaye, The Jackson Five (and no, Michael solo is not the same thing), Blondie, ABBA. For the record, they're all included on this list -- far, far below the 20 "toppers" shown above. Let me say right here and now that anyone delusional enough to think "I Will Survive" is a better dance track than ABBA's "Dancing Queen" needs a shrink -- pronto. C&C Music Factory? Puh-leeeze... Gimme a break of epic Nell Carter proportions.

Best line I've heard on TV in years, from the always-quippy "That '70s Show":
Hyde to Kelso: "Man, if you get any stupider, you're gonna need a helmet."

Currently, I am experiencing the kind of writer's block that would drive a character in a Stephen King novel to murderous madness. And all I'm trying to do is review this new Paul Simon CD. Damn.

Email me with your fave dance songs, ramblings about disco, best bootyshake moment, whatever...

Romance is a heartbreaker / I'm not meant to be a homemaker

The title of this entry comes from the song "Darling Lorraine" off Paul Simon's new CD, "You're The One." Here's the cool part: I'm checking it out FOR MY JOB. Now, technically I'm not one of the paper's music staff writers (like, you won't see a byline from me with "Staff Writer" beneath it) but I regularly contribute short music reviews in our Thursday Living section. Take it from me: There's not much niftier than nabbing FREE CDs from those tightfisted labels and then getting real PAID to write about them. Hey, I'm no Cameron Crowe and no one's going to film an "Almost Famous"-type flick about me but music reviewing is what I've always wanted to do since I began writing for the newspaper in college and having the chance to pick and pan for the *real* paper is pretty dreamy. So far, the eds. like my work and that makes me feel like all the stress I put myself through in college was worth it. The best writers are never satisfied with their output and that goes double for me. This week, I'm supposed to cook up two CD reviews (Paul Simon and Green Day) and write a short-ish concert preview for the upcoming Counting Crows/Live show at Lakewood. That said, it's time for me to start pandering to the labels, begging them to help me give THEM press. Why does it work out that way? You'd think they'd be happy we're trying to, in essence, promote their offerings. Weird...

Honey, come quick with the iodine

I have now officially reconnected with my Deadhead roots.

The other night, our local "classic rock" station, Z93, broadcasted the most infreakincredible "Grateful Dead Hour," a syndicated show featuring the best of the Grateful Dead's many, many concerts. The show I heard, from 1974, had me digging out the old Dead LPs I've collected -- namely, "American Beauty" and "Workingman's Dead," a paltry two pieces of the vast Dead canon. And in the tradition of Dead "miracles," I posted to a Dead usenet group, rec.music.gdead, asking for a copy of the '74 show I'd heard on the radio; I quickly received a response from a guy working here at the paper who is (I'm not kidding) about FIVE desks over. So he's burning me a CD and has offered up more shows if I ask. Nice people are still out there, folks. Just gotta seek 'em out.

I'm out for a quick milk and cookie break in the company caf. Further bulletins as events warrant, my peaches.

I'm waiting for the night to fall

For about the next month, I'm working a weird day/night shift here at the paper. Normally, I work a steady nine-to-fiver but since I expressed an interest in learning more about posting web pages and since I seriously need to practice my HTML coding skills, the Powers That Be here at the AJC have ever-so-kindly let me bone up in hopes of schooling me in the newspaper "wave of the future," online newspaper publishing. Yowza!
So I'm doing one-to-nine now and I have, in fact, learned a few things:

a) It's nice to get up at your leisure. Forcibly waking to the sound of an alarm clock screaming at you is like being shot out of a cannon and it's not the optimal way to start the day.
b) Despite the fact that I've taken on more responsibilities, I still only have an average of *three* hours worth of work to actually accomplish during my eight-hour day.
c) This place is mad spooky and quiet after 7 p.m.
d) Oddly enough, I wish I still had my old day hours.** I'm too much of a TV addict to miss prime-time viewing. Sad, isn't it?

**Of course, if you were paying attention you know that I'm only doing this for a month. Give yourself 15 points and a gold star if you remembered that all-important fact.

I've been reading rock biographies lately like they're going out of style. Any suggestions on some good ones? E-mail your old pal Mandi.

P.S. Two FABULOUS Smiths/Moz texts every Suedehead should own are: Johnny Rogan's controversial but extremely well-researched and well-written "Morrissey and Marr: The Severed Alliance" and a lovely little paperback filled with fans' stories of the individual Smiths songs that deeply touched them, "All Men Have Secrets." Check amazon.com, the mutha of all online booksellers, for more info.

Shout it out loud

KISS is cool.
Duh.
It's shameful that I've only recently discovered how awesome they are, given that my hip older cousins were totally into them back in the day. My musically-forward cousins, Martin and Mich (pronounced "Mitch"; why the "T" is absent, I dunno), had every KISS album when they were teens in THE teen decade, the '70s. My teen years were spent rocking the lame, talent-challenged sounds of whatever was popular in my girls' gym class -- Debbie Gibson, Winger (gak), JJ Fad ("I'm hummalummazoommalummahummalummazoommalummayeah!!!") -- so I guess I'm sort of going through my "second teenhood" right now, rediscovering all these rad groups I've been skipping over in the record bins for years.
So anyway, the other day I'm shopping in National Chain Record Store and I pick up the following CDs, in no particular order: Billy Joel's "52nd Street" (kiss off, y'all; the man can sing), Simon and Garfunkel's "Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme" (their BEST album hands down) and -- fanfare, please -- KISS's "Greatest KISS" hits collection. After getting really weird looks from the teeny-something cashier, who'd just expounded on the musical genius of Christina Aguilera to the pumped frat boy ahead of me in line, I raced to my little meat wagon and queued up KISS's "Christine Sixteen." Tearing outta the parking lot as Paul Stanley growled "She's been around/But she's young and clean," I felt absolutely energized -- so energized, in fact, that I went back to the store today and bought "Destroyer" and "Love Gun." They fairly rock and I'm probably going to hunt down all the KISS CDs from the '70s. *sigh* More cash-ola out the window but that's the price you pay for being a music junkie who constantly needs a fix.
My funniest KISS memory, I guess, is of my cousin Jesse (we called him "Skeeder" -- seriously) getting hold of Mich's old KISS albums (like, real vinyl, y'all -- original pressings on Casablanca records, not reissues) and smashing the -isht out of them as he called them "devil music." Like a primo 'tard, I stood there that hot summer afternoon in 1983 in his garage and blithely watched him pound the heck out of both "Destroyer" and "Love Gun." You know, even back then -- when I was only 11 -- something told me smashing records just wasn't right. It sounds weird but I felt guilty about being something of an accomplice to ruining vinyl (and someone else's property, at that). Later, when I started working at Turtle's during college, Skeeder dropped by during my shift to buy -- you got it -- some KISS CDs. I joked about how he trashed those LPs when we were kids and he said, "DAMN, I was so stupid! Those albums would be worth so much money right now -- and KISS is so cool!" I'm pretty sure Mich kicked his ass for that stunt, too, and I can't blame him.
Best KISS memory, though? In 1994, I snagged free passes for my friend Mark V. and his lovely wife, Jackie, to one of those KISS fan-fests the group held in downtown Atlanta. Mark and Jackie actually got to meet Paul Stanley and they, to this day, think I walk on water for helping to make a dream of theirs come true.
For those who think KISS is just a bunch of old, painted-up metalheads, well, you couldn't be more wrong. Give Paul, Gene, Ace and Peter a listen sometime and you'll hear that they're really a fabulous foursome who rock out some spiffy, amped-up pop tunes. Soon, I'm going to write a mini-thesis on why the '70s kicked so much arse in comparison to today's watered-down culture. But until I find the time, I'll spend the rest of my workday jonesing for flashing pinball machines, waycool "baseball"-style longsleeve concert tees and just one more replay of "Plaster Caster."

Kim Kelly is my friend

It's a damn shame NBC didn't give "Freaks and Geeks," one of TV's best shows ever, half a shot. If you've never seen F&G, you really should. All original 18 episodes are on cable - Fox Family Channel - every Tuesday from 8-10 p.m. (Fellow "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and "Angel" fans, now is the time to invest in a VCR; tape Buff and Angel but for sure, watch F&G.)

I guess I like F&G so much because, even though I didn't go to high school in the late '70s or early, early '80s (when the show is set), I nevertheless went to junior high (mid '80s) and high school (late '80s; I graduated in '90) with kids who were, literally, *just like* the characters on F&G. I've always lived on the southside of Atlanta, so I can't speak to any other part of town but my side of the tracks isn't far from John Waters's interpretation of suburban Baltimore culture: middle-class white trash, that is. The majority of kids I hung with were, frankly, freaks or geeks since those were the only kids in my neighborhood (freaks) or in my classes (geeks, especially me).

My neighborhood split pretty evenly along these lines: teen Hank Jr.-lovin' redneck/jock boys (hey, it was 1985) and concert t-shirt wearin'/pot smokin' hoods. NOTE: The kids in my 'hood were "hoods," not "heshers" and they'd be the first to tell you so. I never even heard the term "heshers" until I saw the fabulous flick "Dazed and Confused" in 1993. Not particularly being a Hank Jr. person, I tended to hang with the hoods at home and I was, by association, friends with a fair number of geeks at school.

Kim Kelly, played by Busy Phillipps, is my absolute FAVE character on F&G. She's the "bad," tough-chick hood girl who's rarely (well, not really ever) nice in school or out of school. In short, she's the most fun person to watch because you never know what she'll pull next. I guess I like Kim best because she's like a weird amalgamation of every hood girl I knew in junior high and high school. Mostly, though, she reminds me of the two hood girls I feared most in school - Angie H. and Kim S. Angie was the kind of hood who said what she thought about you, usually right to your face; Kim was the hood girls' "enforcer" - she was a big, healthy girl who wasn't above kicking ass just for laffs. You seriously didn't want to mess with either one or even have them look your way in the halls.

Strangely enough, I ended up making friends with both of them. About a year after I'd started at GSU, I ran into Angie on the lame shuttle bus. She was working as a student tutor in the Dept. of English writing lab on campus and looked forward to getting her English degree. An even weirder twist of fate buddied me up with Kim. I'd worked at Turtle's, once Atlanta's biggest record store chain, for a couple of years when I learned Kim had just been hired. Catching up, she told me she also worked part-time as a paramedic for our county's Fire Dept. In just a few weeks, Kim and I became instant friends, going to pizza, hockey games, etc., together. I confessed to Kim that I'd been afraid of her in high school and Kim told me, quite truthfully, that she and all the hoods liked and respected me "because we all knew you were smart." That meant more to me than many other compliments I've received in my life. Ever a generous soul, she's the first person who ever hand-delivered a huge blunt to me on the job. Guess all those Nancy Reagan public service announcements worked on me 'cause I Just Said No. Kim was cool with it, though. She did get me to smoke my first and only cigarette. It was so kind of her to slap my back when I started hacking and couldn't catch my breath. Thanks, Kim.

Kim quit Turtle's abruptly one day, rushing in to tell me she was marrying her military boyfriend, Harold. I never saw or heard from her again. Dunno what happened to Angie, either. After seeing her a few more times around campus, she disappeared from the scene (no doubt because, unlike me, she didn't feel the need to drag her college career out to the ten-year point).

To me, the fictional Kim Kelly represents Angie H. and Kim S., the good and the bad. She can be biting and cold but you just know there's a part of her that would give anything to be like the smart, sensitive, beautiful-because-she-doesn't-think-she's-beautiful Lindsey, F&G's main character. If you're a sap like me, you hope Kim Kelly will graduate and leave behind part of her high school persona when she finally grows up. You hope she'll see that she's smart, with a lot to offer the world (that doesn't come from her dealer). Yeah, Kim Kelly doesn't really exist but girls like her did then and still do now. I hope they learn that the various sundry names and tags and identities they and, especially, others hang on them in high school don't actually determine who they really are. That's for them to decide. Some people, like Angie and Kim S., make the right decision - they move on, grow up and broaden their horizons. That's always nice to see.

I didn't want to attend my high school graduation - 04 June 1990 - because it coincided with the Depeche Mode "Violator" tour at Lakewood Ampitheater. I begged my mom to let me off the hook but she refused. Now, I'm glad she did because if I'd been at DM, I'd have missed the best moment of our class's ceremony:

Everyone got their rolled diplomas silently from our principal. I guess we thought we were acting dignified but really, we just looked like sheep still used to being herded around by our teachers, principals and parents like we always had for our 12 years of schooling. I, like them, received my diploma and silently walked back to the bleachers, sitting quietly and watching my classmates do the same as they picked up their little rolled papers.

Angie H., like the rest of us, got her diploma from the principal and started slowly, quietly walking back to her own seat. Then, suddenly, she raised both fists triumphantly in the air and shouted with pure, unabashed joy as she then *ran* back to her seat, beaming a smile at everyone in the stadium. No one else had the nerve to celebrate so openly.

I never knew Angie that well, but since that single moment I've always respected her. She had the guts to shout it to the rest of us, the teachers and principals and the assembled parents, that she was free from 12 years of superficial constraints. Each time I watch F&G I picture Kim Kelly getting her diploma, pumping those fictional fists in the air with unadulterated glee at leaving behind her "freak" persona for something of her own choosing. Maybe it's all fiction, but for me it's always a really cool image.

More on "Freaks and Geeks": freaksandgeeks.com