386: year of the dog

Before I get into it, did anybody see Britt Daniel on this week’s episode of “Veronica Mars”? So cute, and he sang Elvis Costello’s “Veronica”. Because the show’s called “Veronica Mars”, not “Allison” or “Oliver’s Army” or “Watching The Detectives”. Although “Watching The Detectives” might work. Anyway, lovely Britt singing karaoke was, in my opinion, way better than Aimee Mann’s guest appearance on “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” a few years ago. Though not nearly as funny as Korn playing themselves on “South Park”.

Beyond that, I don’t have much to report this week beyond the obvious: the State of the Union address was a wash, Alito is now a Justice and not just a candidate (did you see him at the State of the Union? He’s like the new puppy). I saw ‘Nanny MacPhee’, which was delightful. A bunch of awards and award nominations were handed out this week — see this and that for my thoughts on those points.

I watched In Her Shoes on DVD and I liked it a lot more than I thought I would. Those shoes! Those clothes! The real estate! Also, the acting was decent, and I’m always happy to see Mark Feuerstein in anything. Except “Good Morning Miami” — sorry, dude.

And lastly, my grandfather died this week. The only thing I can say right now is that he had a very hard life, and he accomplished a lot. My dad and his siblings are together in the Philippines now (“Like Voltron!” Patrick said, and I just had to laugh) organizing the funeral. It appears that my dad is fielding calls for the family, as he’s been answering my grandma’s cell phone whenever my sister calls to see how she’s doing. I’ve looked at literally hundreds of floral arrangements and they all look like they should be wielded by a corps of bridesmaids or hung on the winner of the Kentucky Derby. Nothing feels right for him, who overcame a brutal childhood to the occupation, the Americans, the Marcoses, martial law, America in the 80s. What kind of floral arrangement could speak to that?

It’s my sister’s birthday today, but if she doesn’t mind I’d like to delay celebrating until next week, a few days after the funeral, and maybe not until my dad gets back from the Philippines — really, whenever it feels like Grandpa is less dead. Which doesn’t sound right — I think I mean when it feels less immediate. Less theory and more truth. When his death is a matter of fact, and less a state of mind that I feel like I can just shake whenever I want.

If you don’t live in Chicago but are going to be in town next weekend, please let me know so I can send you an evite for the 80s party I’m throwing next week. Or even if you live in Chicago and you haven’t gotten an evite yet, let me know so I can send it to you. Unless I don’t like you, in which case, too bad, suckas.

Love,
Jasmine

*songs*
Ghostface Killah – Daytona 500 (b/c I just remembered how fucking AWESOME this song is); Rufus Wainwright – The Maker Makes; Massive Attack – Teardrop; Morrissey – Moon River; Big Star – Feel

*links*
BrokeMac Mountain
Speed Racer: “That’s my jam!”
Remembering Coretta Scott King
Memoirs of an Aspiring Guido
Breakfast for Bataan survivors
Sneaking into tents at New York Fashion Week? Try to get past this guy.

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~ by Jasmine on February 3, 2006.

One Response to “386: year of the dog”

  1. Hey Jamine, I’m sorry to hear about your grandfather.

    I know what you mean about the flowers, too … everything seems both over-the-top and inadequate, if that makes any sense.

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