Aimee Payne

Top Ten Albums

July 30th, 2010

I’ve recently been looking through Rolling Stone’s 500 Greatest Albums of All Time list. I’ve always been hesitant to pick my own favorite albums, so I’m instantly skeptical that the list means anything more than a list of albums the panel thinks are good. And really, how can you quantify the greatest album of all time? You can argue the technical merits of song writing and production, but there’s an indefinable quality that comes from the music itself and that is personal to the listener.

For example, I hate the Rolling Stones’ “Wild Horses.” There’s nothing wrong with the song, but I do not buy Mich Jagger singing those words. Every single time he sings, “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away,” I think to myself, “Unless they happen to be underage models.” The first time I heard a cover version of it, I couldn’t believe it was the same song. What I’m trying to say is that these lists say more about the person or people making them than the music.

Mostly, I’m afraid of ranking my favorites. If I go on record saying that The Beatles’ Revolver is my favorite album of all time, it’s not always true. Sometimes The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds is my favorite. And it isn’t fair to newer albums because part of my criteria for “Greatest All Time” status is longevity. I don’t know if I’m going to still like Neko Case in ten years.

Here’s my list, unranked, because that would take a week…at least. And yeah, there are only nine, but the tenth spot was a four way tie, so I left it alone.

Pet Sounds – The Beach Boys

Revolver – The Beatles

Rumors – Fleetwood Mac

King of the Delta Blues Singers – Robert Johnson

Who’s Next – The Who

Dark Side of the Moon – Pink Floyd

Bridge Over Troubled Water – Simon & Garfunkel

Graceland – Paul Simon

Pearl – Janis Joplin

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Nice Work If You Can Get It

June 17th, 2010

You would think being around 1.2 million books four days a week might blunt the desire to buy books all the time. At the very least, I should be able to tell myself that I can get the books that I want any time. But that’s not how my mind works. Growing up in Glenmont, Ohio, far from a bookstore and not that close to a library means that I have become a book hoarder. Living in close proximity to Chamblin’s Bookmine for the past several years has helped me to let go of books that I have already read, but it hasn’t done much to stop me from collecting more.

I have a night stand that is a small bookshelf. I have a habit of keeping a variety of books near my bed. I thought that a shelf to put them on would keep them tidy and off the floor. I was right about the off the floor part. I still jam in as many as I can. I also have an increasingly wobbly stack on top of the book case.

Right now, I’m reading The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larson. (meh)

On top of the end table:

New Spirits: Americans in the Gilded Age by Rebecca Edwards

The Collector by John Fowles

Waking the Moon by Elizabeth Hand

Madam Blavatsky’s Baboon: A History of the Mystics, Mediums, and Misfits Who Brought Spiritualism to America by Peter Washington

Talking to the Dead: Kate and Maggie Fox and the Rise of Spiritualism by Barbara Weisberg

A Poisoned Season by Tasha Alexander

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith

On the shelf:

Rebecca by Daphne DuMaurier

Watership Down by Richard Adams

The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley

The Great God Pan by Arthur Machen

Eleanor of Aquitaine by Marion Meade

Victorian People and Ideas by Richard D. Altick

The Poison Eaters and Other Stories by Holly Black

The Wolves of Willoughby Chase by Joan Aiken

The Rape of Europa: The Fate of Europe’s Treasures in the Third Reich and the Second World War by Lynn H. Nicholas

The Great Influenza: The Story of the Deadliest Pandemic in History by John M. Barry

American Nightmares: The Haunted House Formula in American Popular Fiction by Dale Bailey

Savage Beauty: The Life of Edna St. Vincent Millay by Nancy Mitford

The Years With Ross by James Thurber

Dorothy Parker: What Fresh Hell Is This? by Marion Meade

Southern Daughter: The Life of Margaret Mitchell by Darden Asbury Pyron

H.P.B.: The Extraordinary Life & Influence of Helena Blavatsky Founder of the Modern Theosophical Movement by Sylvia Cranston

With the exception of The Blue Sword, Waking the Moon, and Watership Down, I have never read these books before. Eleanor of Aquitaine, The Rape of Europa, Savage Beauty, and The Years With Ross have been on that shelf for over a year. I will read them, damn it.

I keep buying more books. Soiled Doves: Prostitution in the Early West by Anne Seagraves, Spinsters Abroad: Victorian Lady Explorers by Dea Birkett, and The Victorian Internet: The Remarkable Story of the Telegraph and the Nineteenth Century’s On-Line Pioneers by Tom Standage haven’t made it to the night stand system yet.

Some day, my withered corpse will be found underneath a pile of unread books. My only regret will be that I hadn’t gotten to them yet. If anything, working at the bookstore is only making it worse. And no, that’s not Louise Brooks’ autobiography hidden behind my back.

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How May I Help You?

May 25th, 2010

Graham takes his duties very seriously. Right here he is pretending that he doesn’t jump around, tail whipping into everything in a six foot radius when someone asks him if he wants to go for a walk.

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Patti 1999 – 2010

May 23rd, 2010

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Earworms

April 13th, 2010

At any given point in my day, there is some sort of music playing in my head. It’s like someone left the world’s most annoying radio on, not because of the particular piece of music, but because it generally plays a loop of the song that has most recently struck me as interesting. So one day I’ll get, “and heaven will smell like the airport” from Neko Case’s “I’m An Animal” over and over, and the next day it will be “No one’s laughing at God, we’re all laughing with” from Regina Spektor’s “Laughing With.”

And that’s usually okay. It keeps me occupied when I’m doing something that doesn’t require a lot of brain space. It’s especially satisfying to be able to get through a whole song. Today, for example, I had “Sexy Sadie” running through my head. I’ve been listening to the Beatles longer than I can remember, and it just so happens that I’m pretty confident that I can remember all the words to “Sexy Sadie.” So my brain threw me a curve ball, and transitioned to “London Bridge” by Fergie.

All I have on that one is: When I come to the club step aside. Blah, blah, blah, don’t be handing me a line. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. I’m Fergie-Ferg, and me love you long time. (And then the chorus.)

My brain keeps running through it, over and over and over, in a vain attempt to remember the rest of the lyrics.  It will not happen. While it’s entirely possible that those lyrics are locked away somewhere in my memory, I’m pretty sure I’ve lost the key. I can’t remember what Fergie says even when the song is playing outside my head.

Which brings me to the point that music playing outside my head is the only thing that stops the music playing inside my head. I find it difficult to concentrate on writing if I don’t have music playing. Silence is distracting for me because it’s never really silent.

And while I admire writers who can make up soundtracks that match the mood of a particular work, I can’t do that. My playlist for writing is upbeat enough to be energizing, familiar enough not to surprise me, and long enough that I don’t hear the same song twice in a sitting, but it has nothing to do with the writing.

My taste is reasonably eclectic, but the writing soundtrack sticks to rock and pop. I have Jay Z, Madonna, Hole, Cyndi Lauper, Beck, and Marilyn Manson along with Young MC, the Chordettes, and the White Stripes.

There’s probably some name for depending that much on music. Something out of the DVM that sounds scary and treatable with the right dosage. (With any luck that term would be Quadrophenia, but without the schizophrenic connotations.) Anyway, it’s past my bedtime…and Britney Spears’ “Baby Once More Time” just started up.

Oh, baby, baby…

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ExerSlay: School Hard

April 2nd, 2010

School Hard

It’s pretty obvious that I like this episode. It’s our first glimpse of the awesomeness that is Spike. Other than that, the episode is pretty average.

Buffy and a true juvenile delinquent named Sheila are in Principal Snyder’s office. He tells them that they have to decorate the lobby for Parent/Teacher night, and whoever does a better job doesn’t get expelled. Sheila is not particularly concerned and runs off with a guy named Meatpie.

Cut to the Anointed One trying to figure out how to kill Buffy in time for the Night of St. Vigeous. Pay really close attention here, because St. Vigeous never comes up again. Spike and a weakened Drusilla show up. Spike offers to kill the slayer because he’s killed a few before.

Spike heads to the Bronze to scope out the competition. Buffy kicks some vampire’s ass, and Spike tells her he’s going to kill her on Saturday. Then instead of killing her on Saturday like he promised, he shows up at Parent/Teacher night on Friday. Because…well, he doesn’t really have a reason other than he couldn’t wait.

Anyway, Buffy saves the day with a little help from her mom. Yay, Joyce! (This also sets up a great joke for the end of the season.) Principal Snyder and the local police chief decide to tell everyone it was gangs on PCP.

One of my favorite bits in this episode is Drusilla’s bedroom. It’s all made up like a little girl’s room. There’s a whole crowd of dolls on the dresser, and all of them are gagged. And best of all, Spike kills the Anointed One. YAY!

There is a confusing bit where Spike calls Angelus his sire. We all know that Drusilla is his sire. Bad Joss! No biscuit!

I give this one a B, mostly because I like Spike.

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ExerSlay: Some Assembly Required

March 25th, 2010

Some Assembly Required

This episode was not bad for a Bride of Frankenstein knockoff. Because it could have been bad…really bad. There are moments when I thought it was going to veer off into the Forest of Suck. Then it would pivot back to the Path of Not Bad.

Buffy discovers an empty grave that was not vacated by a vampire. Drag marks leading away from the grave tell her that they have a grave robber on their hands. She takes this fun fact back to the Scooby Gang. Willow checks out this crazy thing called the internet and finds that three cheerleaders died in a car accident the week before.

It turns out, a budding sociopath and a science geek dug up the cheerleaders to make a Frankengirl for the science geek’s Frankenbrother. The dead cheerleaders (that’s a band name if I ever heard one) provided them with all the body parts except for the head. Enter Cordelia.

Buffy arrives just in time to prevent Cordy’s beheading. She and Frankenbrother fight for a while. Then he runs off to die in the fire.

Like I said earlier, this one could have been really bad. However, there are plenty of saving graces. Giles gets a great line about how zombies don’t eat flesh. The science geek’s dead-eyed mother sitting on her couch in her housecoat while watching game tapes of her dead son while chain smoking is priceless. And the science geek’s motivation for doing what he does is convincing.

While it doesn’t completely win me over, it’s really not that bad of a way to spend forty-five minutes. I give it a C.

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ExerSlay: When She Was Bad Addendum

March 25th, 2010

I completely forgot about the awkward band placement! Xander’s all stoked about Cibo Matto playing at the Bronze. Instead of going, “Who?” Willow is all “Cibo Matto Rules!”

Cibo Matto turned out to be okay, but any conversation about them that doesn’t include, “That’s the band Sean Lennon’s in,” seems a little unrealistic…Especially when Sean appears onstage in a sarong.

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ExerSlay: When She Was Bad

March 24th, 2010

When She Was Bad

I can’t tell you how pleased I was to discover this wasn’t the episode Anne. On top of that, Buffy is dealing with repercussions of things that happened last season – namely PTSD from being dead for a few minutes. I love consequences in a television series.

Anyway, Buffy comes back wearing her nasty-pants. She calls Cordelia a moron, is mean to Angel, comes on to Xander in a you-can-look-but-not-touch way, and tells the Scoobies that she can’t keep an eye on them while she’s trying to slay.

They baddies dig up the Master’s bones to bring him back. Turns out they need the blood of the people who were physically close to him when he died. They set a trap for Buffy and round up the rest of the gang. Buffy tortures a vampire, saves the day with the help of Xander and Angel, then pulverizes the Master’s skeleton with a sledgehammer (which is weird, because when Giles’ hand brushed it earlier, it totally looked rubber).

Buffy deals, but is nervous about how her friends will react to her since she was kind of being a jerk. They forgive her, because that’s what good friends do. I give the episode a solid B.

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ExerSlay: Prophecy Girl

March 23rd, 2010

Prophecy Girl

The first season finale really isn’t that bad. Giles finds a prophesy about Buffy being killed by the Master. Buffy finds out and completely loses her shit. She decides not to be the Slayer anymore, which is the perfect way to remind the audience that she’s still a kid. She didn’t ask to be the Slayer and she doesn’t want to die.

Elsewhere, Willow and Cordelia are hunting down Cordelia’s man-candy of the week. He’s in the AV room watching cartoons…or is he? No, he’s dead.

Back at the Summers residence, Buffy tries on her wedding gown/prom dress. Joyce comes running up saying something has happened to Willow. Buffy turns into the Incredible Hulk and smashes… No, she just goes over to Willow’s house. However, she doesn’t take the time to change out of her dress. I love that. It shows how much Willow means to her. Yay!

Buffy slayers-up and heads out to kick some Master ass. Xander rounds up Angel and goes after her. He has a really great moment when he accuses Angel of looking at his neck. The Master kills Buffy, but only for a minute because Xander shows up to perform CPR.

There are some really clever moments in this episode. I especially liked the mutated Audrey Two that is hiding under the library floor just waiting to get out. I give it a B. Joss managed some really nice bits.

Now onto the second season…and Spike.

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