Kelly evokes Buddy Holly’s inner hick—except that he’s a walking lexicon of Southern California country music, with a strong side order of the California rock that Neil Young & Crazy Horse pioneered, and he’s got the wry wit that makes him the guy to always pay attention to ‘cause it’s his off-handed comments that are the most lethally funny. Bitter moves from keening to irreverent to just plain “bite me.” It’s that will to be true to oneself that makes Kelly’s DIY records so captivating. He doesn’t care if the powers that be won’t respond, because he can look himself in the eye when he brushes his teeth. It’s not for everyone. but the ones who can accept the at-times almost atonality of what’s going on will find themselves nodding along, laughing with dignity and understanding that sometimes it’s the unlikely ones with the odd records we remember long after the Top 40’s rolled over 40 or so times. Indeed, “She Don’t Want Me (She Wants My Money)” drips state-of-the-heart reality without flinching, in the same way Sam Kinison told-it-like-it-was about women in his life.
Tea for the serious herbal drinker. Founded in 1922 in Pasadena, California. Alvita has always treated ginseng and Echinacea and aloe mint and chamomile with the same care and process as many English tea manufacturers have maintained their brews. The all cotton envelopes are thick enough to strain some of the tannins, but are organic and add nothing to the leaves being brewed—which makes Alvita a little pricier, but given the quality of the herbs and spices, they deserve the caliber of this treatment. Dandelion root. Pau D’Arco. Peppermint and Ginger. Rose Hips. Blessed Thistle. Sage. Passion Flower. Valerian Root. Shitake Mushroom. And yes, plain Chinese Green Tea. They brew up with a well-rounded flavor, strong enough to satisfy even coffee drinkers - with benefits that reach far beyond that of wake-up beverage. Seek it out. and experience the cleansing, calming, healing effects of nature’s pharmacy.
Bonus Round: With the exception of the green tea, what you are actually steeping is a tisane. Show people you KNOW that one—and watch the jaws slacken in wonder and appreciation.
Cara Singleton walks out on a good job as a techie on major motion pictures for the gruel of a serious science academy to create a line of affordable street legal jewelry that’s not only hip and chic, but it’s smart. The charms lock down—making them interchangeable on necklaces of hammered flat links, pearls pink or ivory, rhinestones with or without leather cording. And the leather cuff bracelets with the rhinestone button that holds them snug but not tight boast pictures that capture moods, moments, phrases. Working with individuals to create a whole new kind of museum—that would US, the wearer—the charms are actual pieces of art. So not only does one wear the vision of Cara Singleton, one serves as a frame for the creative vision and execution of a handful of provocative new artists. Not quite punked up—though the hand gun that proclaims “bang! Bang!” is fierce—XOVO can be evocative and pretty—a bracelet has a train yard’s mid-day desolation, quirky =- stamps are a prime elements, or brightly abstract—squiggles and scribbles in primary colors. Dotted with rhinestones that flash, pearls that give an opalescently textural outline, this is eye-catching stuff. Audrey Hepburn goes utterly downtown, or Parker Posey in full street level fashion rut.
So, Starbucks helped drive Ray Charles to 8 Grammys. and they’ve not only high-jacked our racing pulses with their overt javanation, but they’re now divining the soundtrack to our lives. Thankfully, their artist reverence wins out—and on this Joni Mitchell edition of the commercially issued personal mix tape, they weave a heady garland of the merging of classical and jazz (Philippe Entremonte’s take on Debussy’s “Clair de Lune” from Suite Bergamasque, Miles Davis’ “It Never Entered My Mind,” Duke Ellington and His Orchestra’s “Subtle Lament” and “Jeeps Blues”), the fetid sultriness of want and desire thwarted (Billie Holiday’s “Solitude,” Edith Piaf’s “Les Trois Cloches,” even her own “Harlem in Havana”) and growling male reality checks (Marvin Gaye’s “Trouble Man,” Ray Charles’ “Lonely Avenue,” Leonard Cohen’s “Stories of the Street” and Dylan’s “Sweetheart Like You”). There’s more to it than merely a charm bracelet of songs Mitchell loves. It creates a basket or nest for her dreams to have gestated and grown in—and as one gets lulled into that womb of musical recognition, it’s a mighty fine place to be.
It was one of those friend-of-a-friend things, but it came with such a heart wide open appellation that if the wine was half as good as the person suggesting it, it would be a soul-stirring experience. And so it was that I brought three people who have nothing in common beyond my highest esteem for their passion and willingness to hurl themselves off cliffs together in the name of a good bottle of red. Good bottle was under-selling. Unfined and unfiltered, it was the essence of rich earth, warm sun, stunning grapes - that hit the tongue, opened your imagination, offered fecundity with a dry hint of the richness that makes cabs the big daddy of the vin rouge family. Estate-bottled by people who live for quality over quantity, it is worth seeking out, and not because the critics gave the vintage a 96 out of 100, but because of the way it draws people closer together, creates a plateau for deeper conversation, offers a reason of the highest order to enjoy a fine wine.
Calcium supplements. In capsules. That help you sleep. Osteoporosis is a choice, in many respects. Six capsules before bedtime—that don’t leave that “Mom, I swallowed a brick” feeling that some vitamins, minerals, etc do—can move you along your path to bones that won’t shatter when you look at them as a serious grown-up.
Some go to Spring Training. My friend J.D. once hit every baseball stadium in America in one season. Others insist New Orleans for Jazz Fest, Austin for South by Southwest or Pamplona for the running of the bulls. Indeed, many Midwesterners are readying their Easter sojourn to Florida. And me, tragically unhip, am deciding which weekend I shall journey to the Tangiers in Akron, Ohio to see one Michael Stanley do an altar call for the rock & roll faithful who can believe in the power of the song, the tautness of the Telecaster, the way a deep voice that moans while it holds the lines that deliver. “Chasing the fame keeps ‘em all in the game/ But money’s still the way they keep score/ And nobody told you you would grow old/ Strung out like some avenue whore.” was truer than the man who holds every major attendance record in Cleveland ever knew. And if you want a wages of the game witness, he’s also offered ‘em “I can’t believe you’d stumble, but then I always knew you’d fall/ Seems so easy to say I knew you when/ I’d rather it was not at all.”
Many contend that trauma is stored in the muscle tissue as well as the subconscious. This would be the fuse for those “body memories” some people have. Though for the most part, we ALL have them. and the body alignment technique, which is closest to reiki perhaps, is designed to get your muscles to release troublesome things you may or may not even remember, but carry around like a typewriter inside your very fiber.. Two friends in particular got mobility re-stored to parts of their bodies that chiropractors, orthopedists and trainers couldn’t touch. And when you’re done, you feel strangely light, almost post-tantric. which is both an odd and euphoric place to be. In Nashville, Malynda at Wellnesscoach1@ is an amazing practitioner.
Originated in the Netherlands a decade ago, Ode celebrates the notion that hope and optimism can drive the journalistic mandate. Goods news as a radical attack—and covers that thematically range from to love to Africa to Healing Secrets—the current issue boasts the transformation of Michael Franti from protest singer to advocate for community-building, the realities of leadership, the power of magnetic energy and a think piece on the terrorist in all of us. Provocative, inspiring, even challenging. this is a whole other perspective, one that can shift reality with just a few well chosen sentences.
From the woman who brought you All Things Oz, this hodgepodge from Behind the Looking Glass and Wonderland’s farthest reaches merges and swirls, collides and pulls down disparate references, influences, bromides and utterances from the Red Queen, Cheshire Cats, Grace Slick, Jorge Luis Borges, Marshall McLuhan, John Lennon and General Motors G.F. Kettering. With illustrations from across time and cultures, it’s a feast for the eyes, folly for the soul and a whole re-casting of two books that breakdown perception, clarify and reform. Recipes, cyber-outtings and snippets from Charles L. Dodgson’s own letters cast the pieces across other dimensions for a romp that is huxtabubble - and then some. A coffee table mini-book that’s a feast for the eyes and engaging for young and old, each on their very own level.
A feast for the nose. Bringing the notion of Morocco to your kitchen
with that earthy spicy scent that makes amber so ollifactorily engaging. But
with enough frankincensishness to up the hippie quota. Talitha Getty with a
curl of smoke—the nose equivalent of an opulent caftan.
L’Occitane Amber Incense
The promise of what’s to come. The sense of thaw in the air. The birds coming north. Even the rain flinging itself across the yard—‘cause now it’s all about what’s to grow. Those first shoots, buds, squirrels are harbingers of the next symphony of goodness and green.
Just enjoy your ice cream. Nothing about how it got there matters, except the deep sweet richness. What would be simpler? Or more satisfying? Indeed. Don’t make life trickier than it is. Enjoy the moments as they come. Be fully present. Don’t worry about the rest.
You want fat, don’t need a mortgage to pay for ‘em lashes? Be nice if they’d roll like one of those bits of curling ribbon? Well, here you go. Straight from the drugstore. Imagine that. Some days, it doesn’t have to be expensive or fancy.
The woman who wrote Writing Down The Bones turns inside for a revelatory walk through her life and realizations. And to hear the writer and writing coach—as well as Buddhist—read the story, it’s like having a very dear friend tell you a very long story that you don’t want to end. Humanity is the order Goldberg is always advocating we embrace. Here we find it in spades. Right down to the generational gap that never truly ends and one woman’s quest to find meaning in the seeming randomness of it all. With a bonus 6th disc interview, one also gleans insight into her process that almost levels the field of expectations for anyone creating anything. Whether for entertainment or elevation, this is time well-spent.
Spring brings the swallows to San Juan Capistrano. and the young Mormons on their walkabout, spreading the faith door-to-door like Fuller Brushmen for John Smith. This much hopeful, open-hearted faith is an inspiration. Whether you wanna buy into a Golden Calf or not, bigamy as a way-beyond-optional-option, youth this ardent, this invested is a wonderful thing to see, especially when the commodity brokered is faith in the unseen. If nothing else, close the door and ponder your ability to embrace the unseen that wholly.
What a lovely way to say “fat.” And with swim suit season almost on top of us, too.
The surrealist’s surrealist has a retrospective in the City of Brotherly Love that brings much of his work under one roof. Having grown-up walking down to the Dali Museum in Beachwood, Ohio—and wondering how it occurs to someone to make clocks melt to signify the liquid nature of time, Dali challenges everything we believe about the finite/concrete nature of “being.” And yet, it is his willingness to morph, mutate, cross-pollinate the conventional, the known and the obvious into unlikely configurations that’s always made him such a provocative artiste. Go for the art. Enjoy Pat’s for the cheese steaks, if you need an additional impetus, though be sure to go double meat, double cheese inside out (so they think you’re a regular).
A low-sudsing laundry liquid that’s not a menace to the environment—or your clothes—that comes with a soy-based fabric softener as part of the cleansing cocktail. Bio-degradable and devoid of phosphates this is a way to be green, while cleaning your blues, reds and whites. Available at Wild Oats and Whole Foods nationwide.
The trouble with journeymen is also the beauty: they truly do what they do for the love of the game/the song/the moment. Edwin McCain is a tattered-heart troubadour who can pledge ardor, scuff loneliness, be enveloped in emptiness and hold up the glitter that we’re brokered as the Trojan dream that it is. There’s an honesty to that voice that recalls Don Henley, signifies the true believer gene, is strong and solid and pliant enough to carry whatever emotion the song requires. Yes, he is the person who offered “I’ll Be” to the mass, but there’s so many moments of doubt, wonder, exultation and everything in between. Whether you’re listening to his Misguided Roses—the album that contained “the hit”—or the newest Scream & Whisper, which tells the migrant worker dead end tale “White Crosses,” even as it offers up steeped-in-the-linen fidelity in the face of dispersions “I Could Not Love You More.”
Eric Utne, the man who brought you The Utne Reader, presents The Urban Almanac, which takes Ben Franklin’s concept—and spins it around like a gyroscope. Aside from the obvious sun and moon positions, along with the expected weather predictions, there’s the Field Guide to Urban Flora, the Calendar of the Soul (which pinpoints meditations and practices for various religious orientations), quotes, poems, stories behind festivals and days, recipes, living treasures and survival strategies. One of those “who’d've thought of that” central clearinghouses. A good way to get ready for meetings, parties and beyond..
Hunter Thompson Remembered. He defied the rules of traditional writing and reporting. He created the notion of the oft-imitated,never-even-grazingly replicated “Gonzo Journalism.” Written by the people who knew him best, who loved him without limits or condition, who were thrilled by what would terrify many of more traditional people. Publisher/founder Jann Wenner brings us inside a deeply personal dynamic, while Mikal Gilmore, fresh from the wonderful RS Cover piece on Bob Marley—brings humanity to—and Johnny Depp writes a friendship that challenged, recast and in many ways set him free. All of the voices of the lives Thompson touched, challenged and altered are brought together in one final tribute to the rarest reality of them all: a true original. In a world where in Thompson’s eyes imitation is often the lamest form of flattery, this is a tribute that doesn’t vamp the master, but reflects, refracts and redistributes one of the unlikeliest visionaries of our time. Even if you found Thompson’s voice/style vexing, to read this issue (which also includes the always enriching 10 New Bands To Watch) is to understand the passion Thompson’s readers felt for a full-tilt, total immersion journlisto de nuevo.
Just when it seems like the smartest move to is to cling to what one has, the status quo may well be the trap that proves your undoing. Kick out the jams. Swing for the bleachers. Follow your heart. Find your passion and go. In the coming years, it will be the bold who seek the truly monumental who will thrive.
You walk in somewhere—and you have just the information someone you know needs. You’re looking for help in some area you have no idea about, then some friend of yours, it turns out, is all about that. All you have to do is express what you need, then what for the surprising results…
Yellow lions in bright green stalks. Brilliant suns tethered to stems, crying out “let the spring begin” across everybody’s front yards! Is there anything more cheery? Especially on a stormy day?
La Streisand at her best: balancing emotional inside-out vocal performances while stretching her humanity taut across the life of Zeigfield star-turn-comedienne Fanny Brice. As a 1-, 2-punch, these discs trace the struggle to make it, then the struggle to cope with the betrayal and hollowness attendant to fame. Not quite a cautionary tale, but a masterful execution of the stresses, pressures and—yes—exhilarations of the wages and perils of prominence found and maintained.
Cheryl, Kenny Chesney’s always beaming assistant, swears by the Champagne, which goes on without too much voltage, makes one look polished not overly made-up and treats one’s lips in even the worst conditions. Merlot is a deep pink, the raisin an almost claret cast, the mocha more earthy. With a hint of peppermint, they freshen you up even as they cram emollients into your lips. And teeny tiny, anything but purse-cramming functionality to boot. No wonder the Entertainer of the Year relies so fully on this woman.
Every day means something. And why not March 12? The day the original Beat and Buddhist writer entered the realm that is our common mortal coil. Jack Kerouac. Free and embodying freedom, adventurer beyond the pale. Every day has some reason that makes it special. some celebratory component, some reason to open up the structure and consider another possibility. Think about it.