All the shows I have been to but I have not been writing about

This is going to be one of those honest moments in which I admit each band deserves their own post, but I have been so behind on things that I have not written or posted with consistency. So time has passed, my memory is already starting to fade, but at least I lived.

Levitation Day Two (09/27/2025): Blonde Redhead and TV on the Radio

There were many bands that day, but I only had ears for two. On the rare day in which I can escape the children and just be irresponsible again (that is what people mean by carefree right), my personalty is to prepare myself mentally for what I know I will enjoy. These two bands. And time to read.

I arrived halfway through the day so I could catch Blonde Redhead, a band that I discovered through my much cooler friends in high school and has imprinted on me how chic it is to have screechy haunting shoe gazing melodies. This is art rock, but good.

Like all the other bands I am about to gush about, it was my first time and thank the goddesses they did not disappoint. Both sets where indoors at the Palmer Events Center, so I was confident in finding parking and navigating the space. Levitation Fest focuses on rock and harder sounds, meaning it was a bit of a sausage fest (mustached men with long hair as far as the roving eye could see). Another plus was that for once the restrooms for the ladies was not the one overflowing with those waiting a turn, the only real downside was seeing how many people didn’t even bother washing their hands in the shared sink area. If their hands are that dirty I can only imagine what that means for the facial and scalp hair. Oh, and the festival prices.

Back to the band, I was able to find a spot in the middle close enough to shoe gaze my way through some of my favorite songs in what I though was enough space to bop. Except that a much larger listener was tripping balls and swaying to their own musical experience in front of me, so my anxiety was high as I imagined being crushed by one person during the set. It didn’t happen as I am alive to bitch about not being big or high enough to be on his level, and also alive to say that hearing Blonde Redhead play was worth it.

They were the antithesis of the Regina Spektor show, with one of the band members wearing a shirt that in bold letters acknowledging the genocide in Palestine. They play so well together that it was one of those they-sound-just-like-their-albums type of experiences. Perfection.

TV on the Radio came at the end, and as a performer the singer was more raw in person, but the emotional resonance in seeing them play live was still the same.

I used the hours in between to snag food and read Perfect Victims: And the Politics of Appeal by Mohammed el-Kurd. I was able to finish it one day, minutes before I snagged a spot closer to an exit since the crowd was bigger and my fear grew from one person crushing me to several. Tunde Adebimpe came on stage and helped to solidify my read, with a call out on the war on Palestine and the recent passing of a political activist. The songs had more meaning since the joy of performing did not negate for the band the suffering of others, they worked together to perform their hits and they acknowledged their privilege when remembering others. And yes they played “Wolf Like Me” letting us direct the frustration that we all feel. Or at least that is how I left their show feeling.

Going to see these two bands solo helped to wash away some of the smut from my last experience.

Scoot Inn (10/31/2025) JMSN

TikTok got me into the music and then let me know he was coming to town. Adverting works so well, or at least on me, that I abandoned my toddler on Halloween (he was with his dad of course) and dressed up like a clown to drive downtown. Driving through the gentrified East Side, even for the historic Scoot Inn, is always stressful. But the show was early enough (so I am sure the artist could have his own holiday) that I was able to find parking in the numerous expensive parking garages that you see in that part of town. And it would seem that everyone was on dirty sixth anyway,

Okay, so other then knowing it was historic it was also my first time at the venue. It is like Stubb’s, but there is a “sitting” section that you have to pay more for so you can rest and have unlimited popcorn. It seems like you would want to be close to the stage though, so I don’t think that it is worth it.

For his Scared Straight tour, there was not enough people dressed up like they were in the “Dirty Dog” or “Soft Spot” music videos. I know I wasn’t on theme, but I was really hoping everyone else would be. JMSN and all his doppelgänger bandmates however were rocking the white prospector’s onsie which does wonder for the butts (as the Tina Belcher in me comes out). Once you get over how all the other musicians looking exactly like the lead, the art is dropped as the band starts to play from the new album (...it's only about you if you think it is). And then I get it, JMSN is so talented that he has splintered off into others who can exude the rage and sex that oozes from his lyrics.

This album is on the rock side, but JMSN moves between genres like R&B and you can hear it in the music. It was a show that I couldn’t stop swaying my ass to and a rare performance that had the crowd moving. I would for sure see him perform again the next time I get a chance.

Mohawk (11/06/2025) Murder by Death (The Farewell Tour)

Why did I wait until the end to see this band! This is an act that I will claim self discovery, I picked them up from a recommendation in a Spin article almost two decades ago and was into the southern gothic feel of their lyrics. I am a belter of their songs in private and in public apparently, as I couldn’t help but sing along with the others in the crowd.

I love Mohawks for, the ease of finding parking, the affordable pricing, and the set up. I tend to see the outdoor sets and the staggered levels gives you a good vantage point no matter where you squeeze yourself. This was a show in which the merchandise booth was overflowing and had the most amount of people I have ever seen already wearing the band’s shirt (that they bought at a different show). This band has dedicated fans who seem to be mourning the loss of a consistent touring act.

There was a mix of songs from each album and a tongue in cheek we-are-sick-of-this-shit comment before they played “Pizza Party! (at Gloria Estefan's House).” Even as the cringiest of their songs, I did not mind when it was performed since the crowd really dug it.

What I loved about the show was that like JMSN and Blonde Redhead, their live performance was comparable to their recordings. The distinctive use of the cello adds a classical and dramatic tone that bellows beautifully as the band plays. In their music the cello comes through as the second voice to the lead singers plaintive wails of living (a life straight out of Blood Meridian). Why did I wait so long to experience this for myself and when it is too late to get another taste?

I have my sights set on at least one more show before this year ends and I hope it continues to move me through these hectic days. Here is to hoping and to making my life worth it.

Regina Spektor at the Moody Theater (08/05/2025)

Going to see Regina Spektor perform was a mistake. Which is confusing because I feel like finding out she was touring kicked me out of the depressed stage of I-am-old-and-doing-nothing-with-my-life to full on participating in my mid-life crisis with glee. The enthusiasm and discovery that she was coming to town made me look into other shows. I found that the music scene in Austin is not dead and dropped some cash on people I have to see.

She was the soundtrack to my indie high school years. From one mentally unstable teen to another, I heard Regina Spektor played on someone else’s iPod Nano on the ride to their house during lunch. I then downloaded all that I could (viruses included) using my LimeWire account so I could burn CDs, that I would play when driving coworkers to our scammy job selling laptops at a booth in the mall. And thus the contagion was spread from one girl to another in our high school.

While those friendships may have crashed and burned, I still know some people with the nostalgia for her music and those years, so this was a concert at the Moody Theater that I attended with friends. One of which knew how insufferable I was at that time and still stuck around, to see me wear a thrifted dress 20 years later that I insist is giving Mod Cloth vibes (it was a light blue, sheer, with a Peter Pan color, and little mushrooms all over).

We took photos as we walked the dizzying heights to get to our balcony seats. Perfect for social media, the exercise, and I will say price for the seats. There is not a bad spot in this venue, just more expensive and better ones. I went with the side balcony that overlooks the stage and for most of the performance we could almost see her facial expressions as she played the piano. Or maybe someone with better vision could, even with my contacts I don’t have the best low light vision.

The other show I have gone to for this venue (that I recall) was Louis C.K., before he got called out for being a creep. And after this show, plus some of the others that they have on their calendar, I will say that they do not turn down a performer with controversy to their name (as Louis C.K. has several upcoming shows in the next few months, as well as Matt Rife). Also their drinks are expensive, but that is to be expected.

Right before her show, like a week before, Reddit explodes with drama from an earlier performance in which Palestinian protesters used her concert as a time to call out the genocide in Gaza. She did not handle it the way I would like, and from the too late research I ended up doing, I found out I was supporting someone who was lacking in the type of empathy I hope to see in others. From her Wikipedia page, she does not see herself as a Zionist but the inability to separate the Israeli goals from how it created an unjust state on lands that it is occupying is hard to get over. THE GUILT WAS EATING ME ALIVE. As it should.

I did not need to worry, because the crowd was not going to cause a scene that would create a moral conundrum (should I walk out with the others). I got to be a coward and enjoy the show. As a crowd we were uniform looking acolytes, or as my friend yelled at me in half mocking drunken rage after, “You all look like trad wives!” Yes I was wearing pearl studs to go with my dress, so he wasn’t wrong, especially as he felt truly alone and not represented in the crowd. In Austin, the venue was packed and we were not going to disappoint their quirky songstress.

The songs she played were perfect solo performances in which she moved from piano to electric guitar to stomping and then back to piano. There was a range of songs, although there was no “Samson,” I heard “Us,” “Après Moi,” and “That Time.” So she played a smattering of songs from each album, but the key word was solo. It was just her, her voice, the instrument, and a light show. It was a bit selfish, she even did a self indulgent rendition of the song named after her “Reginasaurus.”

I felt emotion, but it wasn’t just her words or singing it was the arrangement. How can I recapture driving around after curfew with my window rolled down singing “Us” at the top of my youthful lungs as I coat them with tar, getting cool air and being able to run with it instead of my broken a/c, back before it became forever hot and impossible to do.

Her views, or lack of solidarity is heavy on my mind. At the same time, I want to see her paying musicians to give us a full experience when she is on tour. So I did the least I could do, which was ignore the merch booth. Listen, I am a consumer and I will buy a t-shirt and other things so I can wear it in public. I am actively trying to get people to ojo me with envy, it gives me life. But not this show.

Maybe for Blonde Redhead?! Unless, there is something I should look into…

Alice Longyu Gao at the 29th St Ballroom (05/10/2025)

I went to a show. I drove, at night, by myself to campus during graduation weekend and parked at the abandoned Trudy’s. The last time I was there, Trudy’s was maybe not abandoned and Spider House Cafe might still have been called that. The one time I ate at that Trudy’s, they had profiled my friend and refused to serve him alcohol with his paper ID. That had to been over ten years ago.

Because you know, I am old. 

I think I hit my post baby stride. It only took four years. Judging by this excursion, and the three other tickets I bought in less then a month for two upcoming concerts and a music festival, I want to get back to my youth. Be a cool hot mom who did not lose herself. Skanking it up in a monogamous way and through my love of music. 

That is why I thought my first solo show out should be Alice Longyu Gao at the 29th St Ballroom. I had fun, it was a success, and I am not here with any regrets. But like all my experiences I live in my head, so any distasteful or cunty tone to be found in this recollection is because the stress killed my fun and it is easier to judge then to be vulnerable, or some other justification an old cynic would say.

I claimed to my husband I had been to a show there before, but now that I think about it maybe I was morphing the unfinished space with any number of venues that benefit from their location within the live music capital of the world. Got an unfinished and sloping cement floor, an exposed ceiling that you can throw a grid up with random lights and speakers you gutted from another business? Then all you need is a rudimentary bar with the IPAs and hard seltzers that are popular with 20 years olds that is your target audience, two stall bathrooms if you are classy (single style shit-holes for the gents and gals if you are not), and a DJ booth that was pulled from a defunct strip club (that may have gone out of business because their set up was so outdated).

What makes 29th St Ballroom unique is that the women’s restroom has a wallpaper theme on the upper half of the walls. It is plastered with the pages from the book that is the plot device for the movie The Ninth Gate. It seemed random, but maybe I needed to wander around some more in order to see the other signs or references to the movie throughout the space.

Or shit, maybe me entering the venue was me entering the ninth gate?

If we go back to initial impressions, I was not into the opening act. So, a maybe on the hell thing.

The Dallas Cowboys is a duo of tall young masked batmen, who the headliner would later confirm is not actually from Dallas. 

I did not get nor like the opener. Like a short grumpy thumb in fishnet, I stood out towards the back, scowling at their earnest rendition of their hits. I came in late, so I did not have to hear the whole thing, but from what I could tell they were energetic crowd pleasers. Those up front to the “stage" bopped and thrashed about as the two jumped into a song from the album they wrote about the Bob’s Burgers movie. I think they were disappointed and channeled their frustration into an art concept album they named Louise. They explained themselves, but since I was being a curmudgeon this paragraph is half correct and something I should fact check.

I was stoked when they announced they were playing their last song, but then I stifled a groan when I heard the non-hoodie batman mention that it would be a throwback to their ska days. I am not a ska fan, and when I mentioned being a skank early I was describing my base sleazy nature, one that does not involve horns. Anyway, their crowd went wild and I kept my distance.

Once it was over, I shuffled my way closer to the stage. I felt more comfortable stretching and dancing to the mix of dance and rap that played between their sets and before Alice Longyu Gao performed, but as the crowd closed in that panic of being surrounded stiffened my movement. Now that a couple of days have passed, I can reflect on how nothing bad happened, the music was great, and being more free to jump around would still result in having fun, but I also mentioned in the beginning that I had no regrets and that is more true.

This was an intimate show, but not like that time the Ataris played at the White Rabbit in San Antonio (I was one of five in the audience and that my have been generous/me counting some staff). I was never good at guesstimating though, so around fifty? Her crowd seemed to double in size, a chemical reaction caused by the energy she brought, it helped the group grow as they pulsated to her beats.

Alice Longyu Gao came onto stage with a half size harp, her laptop, and controller and was ready to perform after a brief sound check. Her energy from the start to finish matches the genre she is known for, hyper pop, with quick songs that are fun, inappropriate, and relatable to the party kids of today. She is a weirdo in the coolest way, she uses her random thoughts as irreverent subject material worthy of a song that is as eclectic as the elements she incorporates into the music. All of which fits into the theme of the tour, and the feeling that she is branding herself successfully to a queer subculture that could appreciate her genius. 

This tour is about a debut trilogy (and her claiming that she is so badass that she gets three debuts at once). Not knowing the music industry, or what factors into how music is released, I feel that a lot of this is on the artist to market and set up. 

She selected different, but popular songs, from the three EPs she has released, with a visual artwork and screener playing in the background containing the song title and symbols important to the piece. Her EPs are a mix of metal and pop, and her lyrics and ability to hit the line begs for her audience to jump (except for me - my knees are wrecked from years of living and dropping it low). Before each song she would tell a story or give context, at one point apologizing for her voice giving out since The Dallas Cowboys were smokers who encourage the habit. She did not need to, it did not seem as bad as she may have thought and any rawness on her vocals works with her style of pop.

While she mentioned an achievement (that her song “Gnarly” was number one on Spotify under a pop artist group), she did not play the song other than to give some context to why she think things are gnarly. That is a fine song, but not the only one to show off her perception of American and California culture. A man singing about loving Korean girls, hearting lesbians, or being big in Brazil - questionable and not at all surprising when they are exposed for being a dirt bag, but when coming from Alice Longyu Gao…let me dance to it (and I would be shocked and asking where were the signs if she was ever canceled)!

The show was well paced and quick. I believe the only song that I missed hearing or was not played was “.Sex”. It makes sense if it wasn’t played, since it is an intimate track (that word again).

She prefaced the last song by warning us there would be no encore (and with no mention of ska). She kept to her word and ended the night by saying once again “no encore,” but also emphasized being safe when getting home. And I was, even when driving past someone rolling around campus with no lights, I was home by midnight.

If it was hell, I got to breathe in the youthful and pungent air and to leave unscathed. I was able to walk back out to my reality. So yeah, definitely worth it.

Where I have been or Where I am at

If you look at my posting history and time stamps, it has been a moment. I had grand plans of posting weekly on my blog, writing my own stories, posting daily on my social media. 

My plans are made to be ignored for another show, another page, another moment with the family. 

It has become harder for me to write with the consistency I once had. In part because I have more obligations. I think it is the sign of my life progressing (a nice way to say that I am not handling aging well). Everything (the words of my peers or those who have come before me) would indicate this is normal, but my love for words and reading has never been what I would describe as normal. I want to be extraordinary at something and I thought this was it.

Before this blog I attempted to get published. 

I hold onto that year in which I was paid a dollar for a short story, and was paid nothing for the handful of others, because they were things that I wrote and that were read and that were seen outside of my imagination. I became scared it was too easy and that I was unable to see my own mediocrity or my thirst. 

Then I became pregnant and that was a joy. 

But before that my dad died, a cousin, a distant aunt and then my stepdad. My family had major medical scares across different generations. 

And the election happened. And I feel stuck watching each swirling massive turd that has been in this endless flush. This is the biggest shit my generation has ever taken. And I cannot believe it.

What can I say, other than I am proud of those who are fighting against ICE, the current government, the dismantling of social services, the eroding of the rights that were barely given before being snatched away, and who had something to say about the current wars and genocides we are contributing to. Not that they need my approval, because I am also ashamed I haven’t been a better person in general, but worse is the feeling that I didn’t do enough. It is hard to get over my offensives, but I am finding that the regret of inaction has overtaken me. 

I guess this post is my shitty version of a land acknowledgment: since I do not name names (or list examples of times I need to ask forgiveness on). I co-opt an important act for an oppressed group, while neglecting to give you a solid history or reference in which you can better understand what came before me and my intentions.

I want to do better, but for myself and because I need it and I am delusional to think the world needs it and I can be a voice of a generation (or at least no more harmful or pretentious than Lena Dunham). 

No, I never finished Girls.

They Called Me a Lioness: A Palestinian Girl's Fight for Freedom

One of the memoirs that I wanted to read after the October 7th events that kicked off the latest round of horror in occupied territory, is called They Called Me a Lioness. I picked it up as an audiobook, as it rose to relevancy for being pertinent to the ongoing conflict in Gaza. This is a history of the region and grassroots activism, but also a story of childhood interrupted by Zionist policies and judicial system.

Yes, you should read it.

An American journalist, Dena Takruri, focuses on the lioness Ahed Tamimi, but does not tell her story in a vacuum. It acknowledges her privilege in becoming a young counter culture figure due to her youth and proximity to certain beauty standards, speaks of the foundational support her family and community has built in their fight for their lands and culture, and gives faces and names to the tragedies that make up the one-sided fight between the Israelis and Palestinians.

Not to make my blog about me, but this is a whole “how is my complacency and bystander behavior contributing to the Islamophobia and Middle Eastern biases so prevalent in the United States” journey that I am trying to take means that I was receptive to her story. While other reads or listens are at times recounting anecdotal examples, I find that the ones from Palestinians who use their family as examples of the injustice in this conflict makes it easier for me to conceptualize how fucked up it all is. 

Since the subject is so young, there is a different tone (one of hope, unaware of what the future would hold for them since this was written before October 7th 2023, and one of patience as they are not yet bogged down with the feeling of futility) in the retelling of the events that proceed Ahed Tamimi's life. 

In her early twenties, she has seen her family locked up and killed by the Israeli government, in addition to spending time as a political prisoner. More know for the images of resistance of her that went viral, and for the videos in which she acted in emotional self-defense as a child, she has been seen as a threat and has to deal with the consequences of being a lioness. The government has tried to tame and imprison her, but have yet to break her spirit.

At the time of the attacks, she was being held and was one of the people in captivity. In November of 2023, Hamas and Israel were able to negotiate a hostage swap that included Ahed Tamimi. Like many others, she has be removed/fled/displaced from her home on the West Bank. And after listening to her story I know that this is a crime decried by many Indigenous populations throughout our modern history. 

Why do we keep making the same mistakes, why do we keep creating new wounds within our species, and why do we vilify one group (Hamas) when other has a higher body count? This book does not answer that, and the many that I have read do not give me a satisfactory reason. Here I am reading and recommending with the hope that knowing about a horror might do something to negate another in the future. 

Where do your hopes lay?

Vampires of el Norte by Isabel Cañas

Vampires of el Norte is a historical novel that makes use of vampires to tell a part of Mexico’s history with the founding of Texas. If you take the different elements that Isabel Cañas used to build this original story, you would miss the genius of the complex compound that is the end result. 

At times a story of love between different classes, a condemnation of the underhanded tactics that Texas used to carve out their dominion over contested lands, and an ode to the native creatures and the beauty of the land that preceded the gringos, the Mexicans, the Spaniards (and were known maybe only to the indigenous population). Also it has vampires!

The sexual tension is not actually with the vampires for once. Although this is still a story of missed connections, misunderstandings, longing, and sacrifice: it focuses on Nena the daughter of a ranchero and Néstor the son of a vaquero during the time of the Mexican American war. It makes use of Mexican folklore and superstitions, legends still around today as they terrify and tantalize the people who spread around the tales. It also uses the words of Mexicans who were assessing the American intrusion for what it was at times. 

The vampires, when they show up, add to the mood and atmosphere, while also tying in the messages in this novel about monsters and the unknown. They are very much not sexy and even in their death remind me of the old school baddies in Buffy. In fact I could see this as some prototype slayer tale, even if the ending deviates from this initial impression. 

This is short review, as I think everyone should discover this for itself. Highly recommend, go read it now!

Two YA fantasy trilogies to read

While these two authors are newish to me, they are not to most readers and have an established fan base and catalog. They are modern masters of young adult fantasy, providing complex female and diverse characters in the lands that they create. While the two trilogies I am about to talk about are different, the similarities in story and impact from these authors made it seem reasonable to want to compare The Bone Witch by Rin Chupeco and the Shadow and Bone trilogy by Leigh Bardugo.

I of course learned about the Shadow and Bone books from the Netflix series. I watched it first and feel in love with the concept, actors, the world and magic, and the six of crows. Enough that I had to read the books, even while burning through the two seasons that are available. 

This part of the Grishaverse that the author has created focuses on the point of view of an orphan name Alina, in a land that is reminiscent of Russia, China, and Mongolia. She is part of the army in her fictional country, a cartographer, about to make her first journey through the Fold. A swath of cursed darkness that splits the land, filled with creatures that even the Grisha (magical humans) have difficulty fending off.

Between the three books, we find that she is not normal, she is like mega special. She becomes intwined in politics, the lore of how the Fold came to be, and a “love triangle” between the Darkling and her fellow orphan bestie, Mal, drives the plot. When this falls through, the love triangle will be replaced by other supporting characters because this is about young love and misreading the obvious! 

I enjoy this series, I do believe for the genres it counts towards, it is well written so much so that I understand my hate for Alina and Mal is because I tend to dislike these type of characters and tropes. The world she has crafted makes up for my disappointment in the fictional characters motivation and reactions to events, the side characters are compelling, and you can tell she tried to think of the different people and prejudices you might see in this steampunky world.

After watching the show and finishing the books, I understand the changes that were made given the amount of episodes they had and the format it was been translated into, however I do believe that it would need three seasons to cover the three books. I thought the actors that were cast did an excellent job bringing their characters to life, even if I still was annoyed by everything that happened.

I want to keep reading the other books in the series, because I am sure I will enjoy the Six of Crows duology more or the other stories I see that are a part of it. A cool world and easy to fall into, I put up with a lot for interesting fantasy stories.

The Bone Witch trilogy used similar terminology but had a foundation in “Filipino witch doctors” and “Middle Eastern folklore.” (Thanks Wikipedia!) I found that the similarities - dark and heavy subject matter when it comes to the magic, the amount of deaths, and the hard decisions that are required of the female main characters - were more prominent in this series. And I didn’t always hate what the characters were doing, so more appealing to me overall.

This story follows a young girl, Tea, whose power is frowned upon and yet sought after. We find that she can raise the dead (cause she is a bone witch) after she resurrects her brother. This makes her important to her kingdom, at time the story will focus more on the political factions and parties in this more “cooperative” world of magic with groups like the dark asha holding court with rulers.

The second book, The Heart Forger, did get me a bit annoyed with the ending. It had me wondering why they just didn’t think to ask certain questions, or realize what was going on until that moment, but with the twists of book three it was forgiven.

The series includes hordes of the undead, necromancy, dragons, sacrifices, and has a more satisfactory ending (if more bittersweet) than Ruin and Rising (the third book in Shadow and Bone). I guess I really a bitch eating cracker level petty about Alina.

Recent true crime reads

The range of true crimes books, and ick that I felt while reading them, was something. I really think that I could do better in any situation, even though I have no expertise otherwise. Yet here I am about to say some shit.

Death in the Air is pretty inoffensive. The writer Kate Winkler Dawson approaches a serial killer acting during the Great London Smog as a journalist, interweaving the environmental, political, and societal factors at play. The bits that were most terrifying wasn’t so much the killer, I have read enough true crime to not be surprised that men are monsters who tend to get away with it numerous times before getting caught, but about the air quality conditions and how it killed thousands of people. Now I have to be worried about that too?

Yes. We all should be. But still. 

This is a quick read and great for historical context, but also clear that the writer had to fill out the book with other anecdotes and references, otherwise this would have been summed up succinctly in an in depth article or expose. 

On the other hand The Bling Ring takes an already questionable in depth article or expose and pads it out with the shit opinions of its journalist writer, Nancy Jo Sales. In my high school to college years, I wanted to be cultured so I go into Vanity Fair. Meaning I have read this, and many other articles by Sales, but always with a guffaw and hint of side eye. Of course hindsight and time shows that maybe she was too critical and cruel for the reads, but at the time she helped to push the narrative that rich druggies teens were stealing from rich druggie reality stars.

As a look at a crime that I followed on the blogs, in the magazine, and in the news it is nostalgia hardcore. I was part of the problem, and while I was not stealing money from the rich, I was rebelling and making bad decisions in my own way. 

Documentaries and years later, it is weird how two peripheral characters were made into mini supernovas, how one guy got to control the narrative of the story, and I can’t help but feel how the minor “gang affiliation” really screwed over the couple of the hispanic people involved. 

From the infamous thieves of LA to the infamous celebrities accused of murder we have If I Did It by O.J. Simpson. Yes I was crass enough to listen to this because: it was free on Audible, I believe he did it and knew that the proceeds of the book does not go to his estate, and because he passed away from cancer recently. My opinion did not change after listening to his so called confession, it doesn’t make sense to me why he would: try to pay his bills mocking the death of his ex wife, give details that makes sense of the crime scene, and give a clear motivation as to why he did it. 

What a cruel world we live in, and though I try to enjoy and move through life as a spectator I do wish everyone involved in all three stories (from writers to victims to the perpetrators involved) find some peace and compassion. But also I am aware these are empty words for catastrophic and devastating acts.

Five recent celebrity memoirs ranked by (self) importance

There seems to be a rule with being rich and/or famous, once you have a certain momentum it is hard to not gather more riches or more fame. Opportunities come with a lot less effort, the hard work of putting yourself out there is already done. How much of their force that a celebrity then puts into that momentum depends on their character, some slap their name on a thing and some try to have a (however small it may be) touch in creation.  

I love reading celebrity memoirs, most of the time they are obvious cash grabs in which we pay more than normal to read their PR about themselves. Some people may be honest and admit they have a ghostwriter, so may be trying to fool us (but surely not themselves), and then there seems to be others (in my experience it seems the comedians dominate this category) who want to prove that they can write a compelling story about their progression in life - all on their own.

Anyway I got five memoirs to rehash, starting with the most offensive and ending with the best, these celebs really had me thinking:

5. Bob Hope is racist, sexist, and xenophobic. I Owe Russia 1200 may be the most offensive book I have read in a long, long, long time. This is the primer for heartless conservative boomers, a way for them to learn how they can insult everyone around them. He admits multiple times to doing yellow face (Mickey Rooney must have asked him for advice), harassed Jayne Mansfield and her husband in the majority of the book, and then tries to do this self deprecating thing that hinges on his weird “I am the lowest of the white males and common man who should be taking instead of joking about taking with these people” outlook. Nothing redeemable in this memoir or celebrity, although it was sad to read that John F Kennedy was still alive at the time he wrote it.

4. Diane Keaton is an intelligent privilege woman, who had the type of upbringing that allowed her to have a mediocre but successful career in Hollywood. I am not a fan, of the movies that she was in that I liked - I attribute it more to the writers and other creatives involved. More so and especially now that I read her memoir Brother & Sister. This comes off as callous and self centered, even though it is suppose to be about why her brother did not have the same success in life as she did. Spoiler: he had mental health issues. Due to the time period and family atmosphere, this went unchecked to the point that he had to self medicate. Aside from her inability to recount anything from his perspective and account for years of his life, she then uses her star power to get him a new organ without considering his diagnosis and his feelings in it all. She is kinder to Woody Allen then she is to her own family. 

3. Lily Allen in My Thoughts Exactly at least tries a little bit more than Diane Keaton. While she does gloss over and try to excuse the claims lobbied at her about how she has appropriated and used the black community, she at least does a better job of addressing it than Paris Hilton or other offenders. 

She is a woman coming from a privileged background, definition of nepo baby, but has the honesty to admit that when her father bought her first recording opportunity it tanked because he did not know what he is doing. She does base her success instead on MySpace and the magic of a certain time period, so some lack of self awareness is involved. But overall as she describes how she was raised, how long it took her to discover her sexuality and self, she let us in on her baby loss, how and why she decided to focus on her children, and the power dynamics in the music industry that leads to sexual abuse and assault, her stalker, and her “breakdown”. She shares a lot, is funny at times, while showing a fallible side to celebrity that is refreshing even if she still has work to do.

2. Alan Cumming has been flexing his writing skills with one man shows and a memoir about his father, a book that I so desperately want to read. While I have not got that memoir just yet, I had the chance to listen to his Audible original (or exclusive?) Legal Immigrant. This format differs from the rest, in that it includes show tunes and songs that fit the little bits centered around his American citizenship process. While this is meant to be humorous, he doesn’t mock the process so much as points out the ease and resources he had as being a successful entertainer looking to emigrate to America. The end includes interviews he did with others whose experiences were different: to show the care and awareness he has about why others choose to leave their country and the difficulties they face. Entertaining, even if it isn’t the most fun topic to discuss. 

1. Quinta Brunson, She Memes Well: Essays, is the more traditional memoir read as of late. As a fan of Abbott Elementary and A Black Lady Sketch Show, I wanted to learn more about a young funny writer who is knocking it out of the park with her success. Though she seems so young and just starting off, to see her movement from a youth working at Apple to a rising star at Buzzfeed, made me realize how much work and subtle influence she had even before I made the effort to recognize her goddessness. Not everyone can be a Quinta, but she makes you feel that you could be a badass version of you. I think this is because her essays have that personal touch: it’s like she was writing just for me and not the hordes of adoring fans she already has.

For the most part upbeat, she keeps it honest even when telling a more surface level anecdote or when she dives in deeper to upsetting and changing life events. I loved learning about her up to that point, and have high hopes that she will continue to woo us with her writing and her ability to make us laugh without resorting to jokes at the expense of others. Bob Hope could never and maybe should pick this up to learn a thing or two about comedy, except I am just realizing he has passed so that would be in the afterlife I guess.

A short story and a short novel about mad women

I don’t know if I am a (good) feminist, since I have a nagging thought that how I see things is more in line with being a sexist, I am of the opinion that women rock and being or choosing to be a male is strange cause they suck. If there is any consistent effort on my part when it comes to reading, it is to give myself more time to read women and non-binary authors. Since I do little research into who or what I am reading, I am sure that I misgender or misrepresent people all the time (I apologize for my assumptions and ignorance).

My two recent feminist and lady reads were stellar examples of why these type of stories are important.

I have been giving more time to short stories, I am trying to be wordly, and one of the classics I read was “The Yellow Wallpaper” by Charlotte Perkins Gilman. Thanks to a Tiktok recommendation, that was how clueless I was to this treasure being out there!

There wasn’t a piece of this piece that I didn’t love. It is gothic in tone (cause it was written in the late 1800s), portrays a women’s descent into postpartum madness at the poor medical advice of her husband the doctor, and still seems relevant to what women face today. A haunting classic, everyone should be forced to read along with Edgar Allen Poe, we need to diversify the forced reading options in school!

A more modern conversation on women’s mental health, My Sister, the Serial Killer is killer. As a dark comedy it does everything it should, flip expectations while playing into the stereotype of what we think when it comes to psychopaths and attractive women. It is a quick read, and wraps up the story by the end of the book, but is so well written that I wish there was more.

This Nigerian author (Oyinkan Braithwaite) sets her novel in Lagos and unfolds a story told from the perspective of the sturdy, dependable, plain sister Korede, a nurse who from the very start is there to clean up her sister’s messes (bodies). If this was any other novel or true crime story in which a man was the killer, I would be side eyeing Korede’s enabling role with Ayoola, but as an older sister who loves being the martyr I can see how we get to where we are.

What this says about society, crime, how women are seen, beauty, sibling dynamics, what we discuss and look for with serial killers, the men and women who become enamored and then victims, nature and nurture… I mean I can could go on and on. This is a story that has layers and would have Shrek shrieking about the complexity of it while comparing it to an onion, did I use that reference right?

Women are complex, and are not naturally hysterical because of their sexual organs or hormones (men will absolutely flip out for no reason and I would say that is due to their sexual organs or hormones…see sexist). When they do go mad or lose their shit, what better group to give us some nuance then the ladies who probably has been or seen a crazy gal in their life?