Lipitopo Turns 90 (and I wasn't there)

It was a bittersweet milestone. My grandfather - a man I honor, respect, and think of every day of my life - turned 90 two Sundays ago, and I wasn't there to celebrate with him. He lives in Bogota, Colombia; I live in Dallas, Texas. That's a few thousand miles between us.



But I called and we had a nice conversation, as we always do. We often use this Spanish gibberish language he taught me way back when. Mimic that I am, I picked it up quite easily. The speaker adds a p+preceeding vowel after each syllable. Thus "Lito" becomes "Lipitopo." Lito is short for abuelito, which means "little grandfather." According to my uncle Mauricio, every noun in Colombia becomes diminuitive at the drop of a hat-ito. If it were up to him, every diminuation would mean immediate deportation. Eh.



Here's the whole Clan. As you can see, we eat our males:

Camila (cousin), Lita, Irene (cousin), Yolanda (aunt), Adriana (aunt), Emilia (cousin), Julia (cousin), Alicia (aunt), Mauricio (uncle), Lito, Genoveva (long-time, loyal family maid - Yes, I said maid.)

Storytelling

This morning on Etsy I found this on the front page:



It's just beautiful! I love the colors; so attractive. It's a limited edition giclee print by apak called Storytime. Oh, and I recently learned that it's pronounced: zee-clay. Now I don't feel so dumb...

This print reminded me of the delightful album Storytelling by Belle + Sebastian. Well, it's actually a soundtrack for the Todd Solondz film. So strange and beautiful...

Morrissey and I Have the Same Birthday

It's true. We were both born on May 22, smack on the cusp of Taurus and Gemini, if you believe all that razz.

Tonight J and I are headed to the DMA to (finally) see the exhibit the world won't listen. It's a video installation by Phil Collins (no, not that one) of The Smiths' fans singing their songs karaoke-style. It was filmed in Bogota, Istanbul, and Indonesia.

Had Mr. Collins come to Dallas to film me singing The Smiths, I certainly would have picked "Panic" and "William, It Was Really Nothing." When I listen to that last one, I'm thrown back to the year 1989, the year I fell into The Smiths. I am standing at the doorway of my old bedroom, watching myself smoke a clove cigarette (my mom thought it was incense), surrounded by The Smiths posters, being really maudlin and misunderstood. I'm on the bed, inhaling and exhaling, dreaming of being an adult...............

Where did my youth go?

William, William it was really nothing/It was your life...........Here's a video of The Smiths doing this song on Top of the Pops. It's cheesy and lip-sync-y, but it's still beautiful to me after all these years.

Yard Party

People still do this? This afternoon Jason called me to come check out the front of the house. We stood there in disbelief and giggled like children. Who would do this? I have a feeling I know who did this - we call each other "cuz" and she probably had the help of a Serbian side-kick. Thing is, she hasn't called me back. Perhaps she's reading this blog right now and laughing to herself. This is so her. Girl, call me back!

UPDATE: So I talked with my cousin Jennifer, and she swears up and down that she didn't do this. It has got to be someone who lives in Oak Cliff since it happened between 3am and daylight. Hmmm...Dave? Ean? Larry? ChickyD? Nikola? Those people who came to our party and drank our beer?

My So-Called Life

I don't believe it. You can now watch 2 episodes (including the Pilot) of My So-Called Life online. Too cool! That is, if you are old enough (or young enough) to remember the show. If not, check it out. Two words: Jordan. Catalano.

A Legwarmin' Birthday

Wow, this past weekend was abuzz with birthday celebrations and legwarmers. When Jen told me it was going to be an "80's Legwarmers" theme, she asked me if I had any. Ahem, I had to clear my throat. I have not one, not two, not even three, but FOUR pairs of legwarmers. And all but one pair is from my stylin' childhood. Since the elastic is all but shot in the older legwarmers, I chose to show off this crocheted pair I got at Urban Outfitters. In the pic: me in front, Rachel, Kristi, Maggie, Meaghan, Jen, Brent. (And dig my neon pink & black socks with silver heels!)



Yay! I managed to find a close-up Halloween shot of me in my handmade flapper headband. Too bad you can't see the cool beaded fringe I added to my vintage-style dress. In this shot, I'm trying to eat Super Roadie's beard (a.k.a. Chris) while Jen (Team America) strikes one of her famous poses:

Love Vigilantes

There are two things that can have such an amazing power over me, that shoot me back years and years to my childhood or adolescence. Those two things are: smell and music.



This morning I read this article about Control, the new indie movie about Ian Curtis and Joy Division. JD had such a pull on me when I was about 14+. I remember listening to Club A broadcasts on 94.5 The Edge or watching 120 Minutes (with Dave Kendall!) on MTV and subsequently taping songs and videos that I loved. Back in the day I didn't really have the means to buy every cassette single I wanted, so I relied on the record button.

Anyway, one Sunday night I was watching 120 Minutes on the sly. It was about 12 am and I just had this gut feeling that I was finally going to see the video to "Love Will Tear Us Apart." (Forget buying the pirated video compilation at Bill's for some undisclosed amount.) Just as I was coming back from the kitchen with a glass of water, I heard the opening chords and rushed to the VCR to hit the record button. My prediction was right and had I not been so completely enthralled with the song I would have been really creeped out. I still have that tape.

[A little primer on Joy Division: They formed in Manchester, England the year after I was born, 1976. Ian Curtis suffered from epilepsy and depression, and eventually committed suicide. He left behind a wife, child, mistress, and 3 bandmates who later went on to form New Order. When I was 17 I met New Order and partied with them (in a legal way) at what is now Babalu on McKinney. Peter Hook and I were on the dancefloor and he did some crazy move that nearly dislocated my shoulder. It's totally irrelevant to this blog and totally an awesome memory.]

Control is playing at The Magnolia and I'm going to go see it maybe this Sunday. If not this weekend, then sometime during next week. It was directed by photographer Anton Corbijn and stars the uber cute Sam Riley and the classy Samantha Morton. Get your dose of indie; don't miss it!