kurt vonnegut

About a Girl: Shiny, Shiny Pants and Bleach-Blonde Hair

on: tap, on: the girl

Unlock my body and move myself to dance
Moving warm liquid, flowing blowing glass

I miss the innocence I’ve known
Playing KISS covers, beautiful and stoned

Sometimes, y’know, I feel like there are things I’ve got to tell y’all. I have to wax poetic to my audience of me. Or not. Sometimes I just feel like talking.

It’s been a weird year. In some ways, I’ve had a maturity growth spurt, but mostly I just feel like I’m in middle school all over again. I’m thirteen but foolishly entrusted with a driver’s license and the legal ability to purchase alcohol. Some things don’t change; I’ve spent my summer biking around, gorging myself on chocolate, trying to read Vonnegut‘s entire bibliography (again, middle school flashback), pretending I am thinking about going to the gym, when I know all too well I’ll just watch another episode of “Mad Men” on Netflix Instant. I’ve listened to more Ben Kweller than I should likely admit, though the (very talented) musician hasn’t released a new album that I’ve heard in full since 2006.


Ben Kweller, “Thirteen”
(See also: “Sundress“)

But, some things have changed. Like, for the first time since Matt Hester*, I don’t want to be anyone’s girlfriend. Not Ducky’s. Not The Chemist’s (despite the insistence of everyone else, I really just want to keep being his best friend). Not the unnamed, straight San Francisco gentleman with no face who I occasionally fantasize will sweep me off my feet come fall. I don’t want the responsibility of caring for or about anyone else, and I don’t want the pleasure of shedding ten thousand tears over stupid arguments. And, yes. Right now, and for the foreseen future, being someone’s girlfriend would be a burden. I’m still (slowly but hopefully surely) getting me together again.

I’m not ready to buckle down to be anyone but me, as cheesy as that may sound. But seriously. Academically and professionally and socially, I’ve been a bit of a dolt, and I am desperately ready for a fresh (homeless, exciting and influential) start in San Francisco come fall. And Charlie Conway came back to me! I’m taking that as a major league sign that things are lookin’ up.

Here’s the long n’ short of it all: I’m exorcising all of the bitchiness from my life. That’s my major solution. I’m clipping my tongue and watching the sarcasm; I’m putting the stops on friendships that do little more than antagonize or patronize me; and I’m ridding myself of the habits, possessions and tendencies that propel me to behave like an egotistical, superficial, money-grubbing Queen Bee.

So, that’s that. I’m pleasingly moving forward. I’m listening to a lot of Sha Sha. I’m preparing for San Francisco. I’m refusing to be any man’s Robin. And I’m generally behavin’.

‘Cept when I wear my bikini to the Wal-Mart and they ask me to leave.

Happy August, friends.

*Matt Hester, if you’re reading this, thanks for coming to my cosmic bowling party in seventh grade. And for the brown and white stuffed dog from Kohl’s. He’s doing well.

Q & A: Medill Professor David Standish

on: journalistic writing

Conducted 1/25/10
Excerpted from a longer interview

Acclaimed journalist David Standish has retired his recorder and, for the time being, his professorship to spend his days completing his third book, a biography of author Stephen Crane. Standish began his career as party jokes editor at Playboy magazine, where the Cleveland native spent ten years at what he calls “Harper’s with nude girls,” editing and writing for both feature pieces and the music section. In 1980, Standish began freelancing and co-wrote the script for a 1986 feature film, Club Paradise. The father of three and Medill School of Journalism professor talks about his journalistic past and imparts words of wisdom upon aspiring journalists.

What was your first celebrity interview?

Eric Clapton when he was with Cream, which was a disaster.

Why was it a disaster?

I went up to his hotel room to interview Cream, and Clapton comes out, and I break into sweats. I was totally flustered. The door opens, and it’s Ginger Baker and Frank Zappa. Zappa sits down on one side of me on this little couch, and Ginger Baker sits down on the other side of me, and they start doing this surreal mock interview with me. “What’s the moon?” and “How’s the news?” and “What is cheese?” and “Why are French?” I was so flustered that I lasted about eight minutes and packed up my tape recorder and fled.

What would you say was your best interview experience?

Kurt Vonnegut. I did that interview with him in the very early ‘70s, and he said things in that interview that seem so wise and so true and so funny that they still stick with me. Another is Peter O’Toole. He couldn’t have been more gracious and wonderful and funny and smart.

How was interviewing Willie Nelson?

In all my years as a journalist, he’s the only person I’ve encountered to whom I would apply the word “charismatic.” My son is named Willie. What can I tell you?

So, you’ve interviewed celebrities, and you’ve been on tour with Queen, KISS, Willie Nelson – how do you think these experiences have affected you, both as a journalist and as an individual?

It really shows who you are. It’s a magnification of how you as a person affect the people around you. The people like Willie who are good human beings, the people around them are good. Queen were the sourest, most poisonous individuals I have ever encountered, and it went down in their whole structure. Who you are is setting the tone for everyone. And it made me not that interested in celebrity. I got much more interested in going new places, writing about history.

Is there anything you miss about magazine writing that you can’t find in book writing?

You can have more variety of experience. Now that I’m doing books, I’m doing far fewer pieces and going fewer places.

If you weren’t a journalist, what would you be doing?

I’m sort of an accidental journalist. My great desire in life was to be William Faulkner number two. I don’t think I’d be doing anything beyond writing. I wouldn’t mind being Charlie Parker or Jimi Hendrix, though.

What would you most recommend for any young journalist?

Have the courage to have your own voice. Write. Write for free. In this crummy market, you almost have to.