Journalism @ MindSay

Elliot Smith - Elliot Smith is to indie music as Joan de Arc is to the Catholic culture: A saint. Born in Omaha, Nebraska, grew up in Texas, but lived in Portland, Oregon for most of his life, he gained popularity with his rock band Heatmiser before beginning his solo career in 1994. As a solo artist, he was mostly well-known for his guitar playing skills, but he was also rather adept at bass, clarinet, drums, harmonica, and the piano. He was also well known for using multi-tracking to to harmonize with himself. Now that you have the background information as to who he is, time for me to tell you just why this guy is such a badass.

Besides being known as one of the men to 'single-handedly' redefine the singer / songwriter genre, he has influenced artists such as Regina Spektor and Cat Power. He released five amazing albums while he was alive with labels such as Kill Rock Stars and DreamWorks. His self-titled album is my personal favorite out of the five with a single like "Needle In The Hay" that is an excellent example of who he was as a person. But in my opinion, the crowning achievement of this incredible man's career was the album that was posthumously released, "From A Basement On The Hill". This entire album is packed with music that I can't stop listening to. During his life, Smith battled with depression, alcoholism, and even ADHD, and his lyrics really show that more than ever on this album, his voice taking new heights and such a sensitive personal side that he's just too amazing to ignore. Tracks like "Memory Lane" and "A Distorted Reality Is Now A Necessity To Be Free" are lyrical genius and makes you want to lay in the grass on a warm sunny day and watch the clouds go by, picking out shapes here and there with the sweet taste of fruit in your mouth.

Now, besides being a pillar in the baroque pop genre, why is Elliot Smith truly such a badass? On October 21, 2003, Elliot Smith was living with his girlfriend Jennifer Chiba. They began to argue as happens with couples from time to time, and Chiba locked herself in the bathroom. Suddenly she heard a scream, and she opened the bathroom door to find Smith standing with a kitchen knife in his chest (!). She pulled the knife out of his chest, resulting in him collapsing and her calling 911. Smith made it to the hospital, but he passed away at 1:36 PM at age 34.

Okay, now let's step away from the facts and look at this. You're the epitome of an indie rock God, you live with your girlfriend, you get in an argument and she locks herself in the bathroom. You feel like killing yourself, and have plenty of antidepressants and ADHD medications and access to who knows how many drugs in order to do the deed. But no, no pills for you; no overdosing. You could slit your wrists, but that takes such a long time and isn't always guaranteed and more looks like a cry for help than an actual attempt at suicide. So what do you do? STAB YOURSELF IN THE CHEST.

Now, the official autopsy report that was released a couple months later in December wasn't entirely conclusive, therefore leaving open the possibility of homicide; but none of the authorities seem to be investigating this further, leaving it at the general conclusion of suicide. Also, a possible suicide note was found written on a Post-it note reading, "I'm so sorry--love, Elliot. God forgive me." What the coroner's report did reveal was that there were no traces in his system of illegal substances or alcohol at the time of death. In other words, not only did he stab himself--he did it stone-cold sober.

If that doesn't scream 'Epic Rock & Roll Badass' I don't know what does.

Rest In Peace Elliot Smith.

In recent times, I have been plagued with a seemingly unanswerable question: who or what do I want to be as an adult? Which career will I choose?

 

I think, however, I finally know the answer.

 

I want to be Eric Rohmer.

 

Eric Rohmer, for those who are not familiar with international cinema, is a French filmmaker who has been making unusual, excellent and intelligent movies for almost 50 years. My concern, however (and this is unrelated to the fact that he is one of my favourite film directors), is more to do with his career prior to filmmaking - that of an intelligent, intellectual film critic for the influential French magazine Cahiers du Cinema (other names who shared this pursuit were Chabrol, Truffaut, Rivette, and one of the most famous names in cinematic history, Jean-Luc Godard).

 

Of course, I fully realise that I may never have the necessary talent that Rohmer possessed to move into the world of filmmaking. However, I believe I do share his passion for analysing films, and perhaps some of his critical writing ability - could this alone be sufficient for me to become a film critic, even a great one like Rohmer was?

 

However, one does not become an esteemed film critic overnight, and I am puzzled as to how exactly I would achieve my goal. Some have suggested looking into a journalism degree, but, to be honest, I am held back from exploring this field by the sheer immoral populism of the mainstream media. One of the last things I want to become is some writer for a major newspaper, with exaggeration, fear, and looseness with the truth being my main weapons, in a desperate search for irrelevant, barely existing news. That is the opposite of my dream, yet I fear that that is where a degree in journalism would leave me.

 

And, more than anything, I see such a degree as unnecessary - surely, possessing a basic writing ability as I do, a degree in journalism seems useless, especially in relation to being a film critic. Surely film studies would be a far more relevant field of study for the work I want to find.

 

At least I'm thinking about it, I suppose. I hope that counts for something.

I finished My Antonia, definitely an american classic and it reminded of  of love for lydia except tony had no neurosis and  stoof for the archetypal earth woman of the plains.  I preferred Lena's existance, but then I wanted to have been a milliner. and she was blonde.

 

I also have sleyed the reed for the next project- brown tweeds 8 epi . I am going to focus on getting nice selvages this time.

 

so tomorrow I can start the CEU's and I will be perfectly on track by midweek at which point I shall collapse in a fit of over abundant planning and need some time to just wing it. winging it- alone- is restorative time. no lists no appts ( shit I have two next week) but still fewer  must do items than this current rush. Procrastination is delicious until the deadline hits. ack !!

 

and if you care the japanese maples in my yard are intensely red- the same color we intend - and have intended for a year- to pain the dining room. It would be nice to get that done before thanksgiving, don't you think?

 

and  to Norman Mailer- he could be a real pain  in the  ass but his journalism was awesome.

 

"Every moment of one's existence one is growing into more or retreating into less. One is always living a little more or dying a little bit. " Good bye Norman.

As someone who reports the news, I can relate to making the occasional mistake.  But this one is pretty egregious.  From The Hill:

Last week a Congressional Quarterly reporter put in a ticket in the Speaker’s Lobby to interview Rep. Jo Ann Davis (R-Va.).   But he was a little late.

The congresswoman died earlier this month after a long bout of breast cancer. The reporter, who will remain unnamed, handled his embarrassment well. When told that Davis was in fact deceased, his face turned red as he replied sheepishly, “Is that a no?”

Last week a Congressional Quarterly reporter put in a ticket in the Speaker’s Lobby to interview Rep. Jo Ann Davis (R-Va.).

            On Sept. 19, 2006, Southerner readers opened the paper to the opinion page to read about a grown man’s fear of mice.  One year and 26 columns later, I’m still afraid of mice, but hopefully you haven’t grown tired of reading the “Jabberwocky.”

            A little background on how I got to this point: I spent nine months in 1996 working for the Rocky Mount Times, a now-defunct weekly newspaper.  I started out doing film reviews before coming on board as a reporter.  Because of my interest in politics, and with it being an election year, I asked my editor if I could write a weekly political column, and he consented.

            If you could read some of those early right-wing rants, you’d probably find it hard to believe that they were written by the same laid-back libertarian who now thinks the only difference between the government and the Mafia is that one of them is organized.

            Fast forward ten years.  I’d been bitten by the writing bug once again.  I’d had a couple of short stories published, and I really wanted to write full-time.  Attempts to get a job at a couple of area newspapers fell through, so I thought maybe I could write a column again.  After all, that had been the most enjoyable part of my job at the Times.

            I emailed Terry Smith, the editor of the Southerner, and made a pitch for what I described as a humor column with a libertarian slant.  We emailed back and forth a few times, I dropped off copies of my stories and Times clippings for him to read, and then we met face-to-face, and he gave me the opportunity to write “Jabberwocky.”

            So why “Jabberwocky?”  That was the title of my old high school newspaper, of which I was also on staff.  At the time I thought it was a dumb name.  I had never even heard of the Lewis Carroll poem, nor did I know that Webster defined the word as gibberish. Our principal, a real piece of work, claimed it meant “excited talk,” which is what our paper would be full of.  I think he was full of something, too, but I digress.

            When looking for a title for my column, “Scratch Pad,” “Give Me a Break,” and “Inside Report” were all taken, so I decided on “Jabberwocky” as an homage to my old high school news rag, and also because of the subject of the poem.

            For those not familiar with Carroll’s “Jabberwocky,” it tells of a knight going out to slay a terrible beast known as a Jabberwock.  Sometimes that’s how it feels writing a column.  Picking a topic, getting it written, and making it interesting can be as arduous as chasing down a monster, so “Jabberwocky” just sounded appropriate.

            Actually, I just made that whole last bit up, but you’ve got to admit it sounds good.

            What really makes all this worthwhile though are the readers.  When one of you stops me on the street, or calls me on the phone to tell me how much you’ve enjoyed something I wrote...you have no idea how much you make my day.  I write because I’m a writer.  I do it because I love it, not to seek glory or fame...but I’ll admit that when someone tells me they liked something I wrote, it’s one of the greatest feelings in the world.

            And so, in closing, I’d like to thank those of you who’ve come to me personally or via a third party to offer kind words about “Jabberwocky”: Megan Blice, Bruce Burgess, Elmina Cashwell, Roberta Cashwell, Mary Flanagan, John and Doris Gray, Gloria Guill, Keith Hale, Buddy Hooks, Rawls Howard, Charles and Tracy Johnson, Gary Jones, Susie Keel, Sam Noble, Ronnie Pittman, Brandon Richardson, and James Smith.

            If I missed anyone, I humbly apologize.  You are appreciated as well, and so are my Mindsay and Myspace readers.  Thank you all so much for making this first year of “Jabberwocky” a great one.  Hopefully this was the first of many more to come.

 

© 2007 by J.D. Lewis