Another reason Google rocks

Google is celebrating the first day of summer with a logo enhanced by Japanese artist Takashi Murakami, of whom I've long been a fan. I have to give it up to Google for brightening my days with the enhanced logos. Recently Google had a series of illustrations intertwined with the logo by Roger Hargreaves, creator of the delightful Mr. Men and Little Miss books for kids.

Google occasionally gets interactive--such as marking the birthday of Les Paul with a strummable guitar graphic and commemorating Jacques Cousteau with a changeable view through the portholes of a submarine. Everything you want to know about Google "doodles" is outlined here and you can view an archive of the images.

Themes in Conor Oberst's lyrics (Part Three)

A theme across some of Conor Oberst's finest songs is a struggle with alcohol. Potentially harmless social agent and relaxant or aid to self-destruction and isolation? There exists a complicated relationship between the narrator and alcohol.

"Hit the Switch" is a song devoted entirely to the topic, mapping out the conflict that is felt. He contemplates quitting drinking, lamenting another morning spent in the grips of a debilitating hangover during which he feels like a hypocrite for continuing to inflict damage upon himself. "Lua" contains similar sentiment: "What is simple in the moonlight now is so complicated."

In "Hit the Switch," he also addresses the juxtaposition of friends out socializing over drinks with the narrator's own removed frame of mind: "I'm completely alone at a table of friends / I feel nothing for them / I feel nothing / Nothing" and "I'll call you eventually, when I want to talk / Until then you're invisible." The use of alcohol is not aiding him with his social interactions, but is in effect impeding them.

One reason why it is such a well crafted song is because the switch to which the title refers has him vacillating from beginning to end of narrative. Early on he talks about a switch getting hit and that things stop making sense, with his essential self getting lost in the shuffle. At the end of the song he says that when night descends, "It all starts making sense / There is no right way or wrong way, you just have to live / And so I do what I do, and at least I exist / What could mean more than this?" That mindset gets the last word, which connotes the cycle.

On the one hand, the narrator is continuing to exist, but on the other hand, living with an alcohol problem may feel like a cheated existence. "It's not something I would recommend," he cautions in "Lua," "but it is one way to live." In "Something Vague," he writes, "You see your breath in the air as you climb up the stairs / To that coffin you call your apartment / And you sink in your chair, brush the snow from your hair / And drink the cold away / And you're not really sure what you're doing this for / But you need something to fill up the days / A few more hours."

Morbid thoughts are woven into this lyrical theme. "Milk Thistle" (which is used to treat alcohol-inflicted liver damage) is a song about dying: "I keep death on my mind / Like a heavy crown / If I go to heaven / I'll be bored as hell." In "Hit the Switch," he refers to recurrent nightmares: "I have some where I die / I have some where we all die." In "Lua," he writes, "We might die from medication but we sure killed all the pain."

Conor Oberst is known for his confessional lyrics, and this theme across a number of his songs is a prime example. It is admirable that he would expose such a struggle and probe it to the extent that he does. He does not glamorize or gloss over the topic at all, either--rather, he strips it bare.

It's Star Wars Day!

May the fourth be with you--it's Star Wars Day! It's funny because I have actually been making my way again through the series on DVD (first the original trilogy; now I'm on to the prequels). My favorite would have to be Return of the Jedi. There are a lot of good lines in that movie, many of them said by the macho and sarcastic Han Solo. A few favorites:

Luke Skywalker: "Just relax and stick close to Chewy. I've taken care of everything."
Han Solo: "Oh. Great."

Luke: "Quiet, there may be more of them out there."
Han: "Hey. It's me."

C3PO: "They believe I'm some sort of god."
Han: "Well, why don't you use your divine influence and get us out of this?"

Princess Leia: "It only takes one to sound the alarm."
Han: "Then we'll do it real quiet-like."

The increasingly gleeful emperor when he has Luke in his clutches: "Oh, I'm afraid the deflector shield will be quite operational when your friends arrive." (This is a fun line to do an impression of!)

Of course, Star Wars also has a bunch of other things going for it: the epic storyline; great characters, including strong female leads (Padme Amidala and Princess Leia); the score; cool special effects; impressive costumes; and edge-of-your-seat battle scenes. It also touches on interesting philosophical points, which are often articulated by Jedi Master Yoda:

"Do or do not. There is no try."

"Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering."

"Attachment leads to jealousy. The shadow of greed that is."

"The fear of losing is a path to the dark side."

Themes in Conor Oberst's lyrics (Part Two)

On Bright Eyes' latest album, The People's Key, Conor Oberst writes about the value of viewing life through a child's eyes. He devotes one whole song to this idea, "Beginner's Mind." He also touches on it in "Jejune Stars": "So it starts again / at our childhood's end / I'll die young at heart." He laments the loss of childhood and the fact that its perspective is gone or at least that it has to be reclaimed through a laborious process.

Inspired by a child's spontaneous take on life, he tells himself in "Beginner's Mind": "Swear you'll be the opposite / of all the stilted hypocrites / You know what made you infamous to them, don't you / you keep starting over." He wants to both understand his inner child and protect it: "Stay awhile my inner child / I'd like to learn your trick / to know what makes you tick / to nurse you when you're sick."

I agree with Conor that there is a purity of how we view the world as children. I wish we could stay children for longer ("Youth is wasted on the young"). How is it useful to regain a childlike perspective as adults? Could a wide-eyed approach be the best way to appreciate life? Or to put it another way, what do we get that is positive from becoming jaded? There is also the question of the essential self. In "One for You, One for Me," Conor writes, "We've come so far away from us." His desire to find and understand the purest part of himself is evident throughout the album.

Themes in Conor Oberst's lyrics (Part One)

I have been having an interesting time mining the field of Conor Oberst's lyrics. It is such rich territory that I thought I might even do a series of posts on the topic. Conor Oberst is one of those artists whom I want to thank for sharing himself with the world--he has that much to contribute. He is known for his highly personal lyrics, and as he said, wryly, "I like to feel the burn of the audience's eyes on me as I'm whispering all my darkest secrets into the microphone." He has been touted as a great songwriter by such high profile sources as Rolling Stone and celebrated author Jonathan Franzen, but he brushes off the accolades. I think he is someone who just wants to get at the truth, which I respect.

One common thread in his writing spans at least a couple of songs across Bright Eyes' albums--"Lover I Don't Have to Love" and "Take it Easy (Love Nothing)." The lyrics of "Lover I Don't Have to Love" are fascinating--it seems that he turns around from the sex, drugs, and rock and roll mentality to the realization of the emptiness therein all within a single song. He sings, "I need some meaning I can memorize / The kind I have always seems to slip my mind." He is looking for something meaningful; the other stuff is hollow.

In "Take it Easy (Love Nothing)," he claims that he will never let himself get hurt again: "Now I do as I please and lie through my teeth / Someone might get hurt, but it won't be me." But if he still feels the way he did when he wrote "Lover I Don't Have to Love," love is worth getting hurt: "Love's an excuse to get hurt / Do you like to hurt? / I do, I do / Then hurt me." Of course that can be read in a self-destructive sense, in line with the prior lyrics of the song, but I think that may not be what he is ultimately getting at. I read it as coming to an understanding of the necessary risk of getting hurt. That double layer of meaning makes the lyrics all the more intriguing.

A tribute to my favorite actress

I was saddened to read that Elizabeth Taylor passed away today at the age of 79 after battling congestive heart failure. A true survivor, she suffered for many years from various illnesses. Named Elizabeth like me, she too hated the nickname "Liz" people always think they can call you! "It sounds like a hiss," she said, and I agree. She was renowned for her beauty (complete with violet eyes), but far from just being eye candy, she was a wonderful actress. Her acting displayed heart, vulnerability, courage, and fire.

I have not seen every film she made, but I have seen many of them. I especially loved her in Giant, Butterfield 8, and Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (her performances in the last two earned her Oscars). To round out my top five Elizabeth Taylor movies, I would add Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and A Place in the Sun.

When her friend and Giant costar Rock Hudson died in 1985, Taylor began her tireless humanitarian work on behalf of those suffering with AIDS. A staunch ally of the LGBT community, she was close friends with gay costar Montgomery Clift, and with James Dean, who was likely bisexual. Neither her support of her gay friends nor her crusading against the AIDS epidemic were popular actions at the time the way they would be today. She stood up for what she believed in. She has left a remarkable legacy and will be missed.

The smell of books

Rachael Morrison, who works at the Museum of Modern Art Library, began a piece of performance art a year ago that consists of smelling every book in the collection, starting with the first call number in the Library of Congress classification system. She says, "I document the performance in a ledger, recording the call number, title, and a description of the smell of each book. The goal of this personal olfactory exploration is to foster a discussion of the future of print media, the ways we read, methods of classification, and the way in which smell is entwined with memory."

I am reminded of one of my favorite bits from How I Became a Famous Novelist, by Steve Hely, when Pete attends a book exposition:

"Along one wall were booths for hardware companies, where you could try out little hand-held iPod-style devices for reading. I picked up the Toshiba Dante and the girl showed me how to scroll through. I started reading one of the Harry Potter books on the light-up screen, but I found myself missing the feeling of dominance that comes from cracking the spine in two. I suggested she add a perfume dispenser that emitted the stink of dye and cut paper. She didn't seem interested."

I remember as a little kid I would smell every book I was reading. I have always liked how most new books smell and often the smell of antique books, too. Of course, library books occasionally can smell unpleasant: think cigarette smoke or bad perfume.

I am not personally interested in reading books on an e-reader because of how reading a traditional, physical book involves more senses than just sight. A physical book is tactile--I like actually turning the pages--and of course there is the smell. Says Bob Stein of the Institute for the Future of the Book: "These smells have an evocative power, especially for people who grew up loving books," and I certainly did!

Photograph of Rachael Morrison by Michael Schmelling