Katy Perry Sucks

My poor friends have had to suffer through my droning on about art history lately. I've been thinking a lot about periods of great artistic achievement and it seems like it tends to occur when someone with pull decides that, regardless of cost, great work should be produced for the sake of having great work.

I think it's unfortunate that the arts are now valued based on how much money they can make. It's the influence of capitalism on art. I'm not talking exclusively about fine art... my example is about music. Bear with me cause I'm about to use Katy Perry to make my point.

I hate "I Kissed a Girl." I hate it so much. When I hear it I want to barf in a grandiose epic scene akin to No Face barfing all over the baths in Spirited Away. My point is that Katy Perry had a really shitty song that was produced, exclusively I'm sure, to make a lot of money. I bet she hates that song. I bet she cries herself into a frenzy under scalding hot water in her marble and gold shower (think Tobias losing his Fire Sale part to Lindsay in Arrested Development) hoping to burn that icky feeling away. As she should. She sold her soul so that drunk 18 year old girls could make out in front of their guy friends at shitty bars across the world. Observe (the good part starts at about 40secs):



Now, the contrast: Katy Perry is capable of better music. She does a cover of Sam Sparro's Black and Gold which, while not an example of great artistic achievement, shows she's capable of more than she's engineered to do. I Kissed a Girl has been SOOOO lucrative and Katy Perry will likely continue to do crap like that so she can become infinitely wealthy (though I have to say I think Hot and Cold is AMAZING!)



There are of course other factors: That Katy Perry isn't actually that talented; That were it not for her pretty-face she might not have a career at all; That Black and Gold happens to be good because it's a cover (though it's not like she writes any of her own music in the first place. I digress and I think I'm off topic. My point is that I don't want people to have to be motivated by income to produce good work. I want good work for the sake of good work. Down with capitalism, up with Ryan's benevolent dictatorship.

25 Things

Right now on Facebook there's this "25 things" chain letter spreading like wildfire. I finally broke down and filled it out yesterday. I have to admit, it feels good to be so self-indulgent as to toot ones horn 25 times in row, telling all his friends "read about meeeeeeeee!."

I made a post

I made a blog post I swear. When I clicked publish my web browser told me I was no longer connected to the internet. Then, when I resolved the issue, my post was gone. Now I don't feel like re-writing it. I blame it on my crappy wireless router.

Le Fabuleux Destin D'Amélie Poulain

So I'm going through a little bit of a French culture kick these days. I attribute it in part to Bobby's trip to Paris which I imagine to be fantastic; His visit is a grainy black and white montage to the tune of some 20's singer smoking and droning on about amour. Partly, it's also my French class. It's been eons since I've taken any French but I'm remembering why I liked it so much and am becoming a bit of a keener.

In this kick I also rewatched Amélie. I know it's kind of a cliché but it's cute and I like it. The video I'm posting is more about the music than the footage. It's actually kind of crappy footage but it's a good song.

The Comeback (of the awkward)

Today was my first day back to school for the term. It wasn't terribly exciting. As the most notable class related happening of the day, I decided my phys. ed. teacher is unnecessarily hardcore. Her opening remark was "You can call me Mrs. Edwards, or Ms. Edwards, or Aletheia. But that's as friendly as it's gonna get."

I'm not sure how much more friendly it could get. "Hey tits" perhaps?

I digress.

This term my classes are all super far apart. I'm going to become the king of speedwalking by the end of the school year. I may invest in a pink Valerie Cherish style track suit for my daily strolls. On the first of my lengthy jaunts today I passed the awkward couple. You know, "the awkward couple" from high school. Both of them are really weird, they generally have acne, and for some reason are uncomfortably affectionate toward each other in public. They're the iconic alpha-couple of the social outcasts. Now they go to Grant MacEwan.

When I encountered them I was walking through the pedway from the 109st building to the Centre for Sport and Wellness. It's a somewhat narrow space, as pedways tend to be. So when I was heading toward them and they were heading toward me (holding each others hands in a death-grip,) it was impossible to look away when they paused to kiss.

It wasn't a pec. It wasn't a gentle smooch. It was a full-on, let's stop in the pedway, open our mouths and tongue-bang kind of kiss.

I don't know why only the really, really, really awkward couples seem to do this. I suppose it's good that they have each other. But I don't need to be part of their loving experience. The first thing I thought of when I witnessed the event was Aunt Sassy.

I burst onto the awkward just as she burst on to baby-girl:

"Note to self: I don't need to SEE that!"