More of this, less of that.

So clearly I'm horrible at keeping an updated blog...but, this too shall change, along with my ever fluctuating life.

Seeing I was recently thrust into the realm of the relatively unemployed in LA--meaning, work is beyond slow...existent but crawling at a snail's pace--figured that now was just as good as any other time to start publicly ranting and raving about this and that.

So today, today I shall rave about how much I adore the "LOFT" station that DirecTV has so generously included in their musical lineup. (For those not in the know, said stations can be found in the 800-level channels.)

Where else can you hear the likes of Bob Dylan mixed in with such unknown (at least to moi) groups as A.A. Bundy and the Guggenheim Grotto? This sexy mix prompted me to dance around like a whirling dervish in my (equally sexy!) Tucson Film Commission T-shirt, gray cut-off Hollister sweats and a pair of Uggs. Yes, a sight for sore eyes...mitts off people, this little touch of terrific is already spoken for!

Who would have thought that I could effectively clean my hall closet while listening to Jeffrey Foucault's "Unwed Fathers?" Just the title alone spawns a zillion questions, one such being: why on Earth would you think to pen a song about young boys who couldn't keep their willies in their Levis? So strange what Nashville and others pick and choose. In fact, just the other day whilst I was at CNN with a few co-workers (who also happen to be aspiring singer-song-writers--in their late 40's no less) when the topic of song lyrics and morals came into convo. One friend had written a song about a man who was scorned and practically stalked his ex-wife or something of the like...and of course, Nashville responded with, "We don't advocate any sort of violence against women." So my friend then went and changed the pronouns around to reflect a scorned woman stalking her ex-hubby...and what happened? Nashville loved it! What the hell's up with that? Double standards. Get used to them...they are everywhere like dust in a desert.

"I wish I had more of this...less of this." These are the lyrics currently swirling from my speakers performed by the likes of Vetiver. While I love the creativity that's spawned along with the desire to clean my apartment at speeds faster than Samantha's nose can twitch, this song just isn't cuttin' it. I'd like more of the other tunes...perhaps a little less of Vetiver.

More later.