Lady Stardust and the Chamber of a Thousand Dances

An entry dedicated to J.K. Rowling (again) and Wilson Pickett, thanking him for the title.

You know, I didn't really expect that the sequel of Lady Stardust's andventures would be released so soon... but that's exactly what happened. Oh, and now, I'm going to refer to my brother's friend as F. and to my friend as P. in order to avoid confusions, not because of Kafka. Now, if you're ready, here I go!
I knew there was trouble brewing when P. and F.'s mom decided it was a good idea to take The Flying Frenchman out to a nightclub. Yeah, my so beloved antro. Yeah, me so enthusiastic. On Friday, D Day, Mom told us to wait for P. or F.'s call brefore getting dressed, to see if the plan was still on. By 8:30 p.m. the phone had not rung at least once, something that made Mom go hyper and she started kicking me around so I would get dressed, and when I was more or less ready she started yelling at me because my high heels were not in style (they belong to a 2003 collection, and I ended up changing them for a pair of pearly white ballerinas that looked even more old-fashioned) and because my lack of makeup made me look like a little girl.
When we finally left the house, hope was riding on my brother, who supposedly knew the location of the nightclub. Yeah, right guess: my brother had no idea where the nightclub was. And yes, we got lost, and had to call F.
When we finally got there, I was already pissed, and I was even more pissed when I saw F. with a friend of hers, now known as T. I was not pissed because of T, don't get me wrong; I was pissed because F. begged me not to bring any friends and she was free enough to invite her friends.
It took seconds for me to feel out of place: yes, my lack of makeup made me look younger than both F. and T, and, compared to every slutty outfit I saw, I looked like a nun. Yeah, this is my night.
We arrived stupidly early, and I was even more pissed by the fact we would probably have to wait for an hour for the club to open, when P. saw the owner or the bouncer or whatever coming out, and he went there to show us the cool way he would let us in. Yeah, you guess again: entrance forbidden to the underage kids. Mom criticizing me for nothing.
We ended up in P's house, and I ended up talking with a friend of P, Mr. A, who insisted I was 16. Nope A, I'm not 16, but deep inside I'm feeling like I'm 17 again and if this girly face never changes, I might as well follow Bryan Adams' advice and be 18 till I die.
P. played some music in his room for us to dance, but both F. and T. kept complaining about how dorky it was to be home on a Friday night (welcome to my life, and proud of it) and didn't feel like dancing (you know, almost all my phrases, involuntarily, have been song titles) and I ended up having salsa lessons with P, but it wasn't long before nobody felt like moving, and, since I was the only one standing up, I played The Rolling Stones' "Brown Sugar" and ended up dancing with myself á la Billy Idol. But, alas! somebody turned off that song because l'ami Geraud didn't like it. By the way, by that hour he had just changed his persona from The Flying Frenchman to The Partying Frenchman, and was suggesting to buy a six-pack of beer and then go out to the park to drink, because that's what his friends do, in the park in front of the Eiffel Tower. Damn, this man doesn't seem to get the fact that this is not Paris, and that going out at night to the park is getting robbed in the best of cases and not even being able to drink (you know why) in the worst.
The night ended with A. sound asleep, and the rest of us playing manotazo (no translation, I guess) in French, actually. And, yes, Geraud lost. And no, I'm not Mrs. Snape yet, but I hope I'll be soon.

The End

Lady Stardust and the (Dis)order of the Funnies

This entry is dedicated to J.K. Rowling.

This is the tremendous story of a young girl with a brother, a mother, a friend of her brother, and a French guy. Well, it's actually the story of what happened yesterday: a complete odyssey.
It all started when Mom decided we should go see Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix at Plaza Altavista in the morning, so there wouldn't be so many people. The movie was at 10 o' clock; terrible traffic jams got us to Altavista at 10:20; however, my brother wasn't worried because he said there was another room that showed the movie at 10:30. Well, it turned out the newspaper with the cinema schedules was from last week, and the only room with Mr. Potter was the one that had it at 10 o'clock. My brother, now turned into a 6-year-old, bawled about watching the movie and ordered Mom to head to Perisur. In the end, our suggestions to watch Ratatouille or Transformers were rejected and we ended up in Perisur. Of course, by that time we were hungry, and I decided to crown my nutritional breakfast of a crépe and French fries (Frenchier than my guest) with a cinema-coffee. Horrible idea; my stomach suffered slightly, but enough to bother me.
Then, Mom nearly killed us of a heart attack because she couldn't find the tickets. When she finally did (they were at the bottom of her big handbag-armbag?-) we entered the room at 11 o'clock, and were greeted by a couple who just wouldn't shut up, so Mom ran away to a dark corner of the room.
Anyways, I must say I was the least ethusiastic about watching Mr. Potter's adventures, partly because watching them reminds me that I have to read the sixth book of the saga... and I ended up being the only one who really enjoyed the movie! Just read this:

Mom said she thought Harry suffered a bit too much. Plus, the fact that Voldemort is "He Who Shall Not Be Named" reminded her of Salinas (first joke of the day). I say, no pain, no gain. Sorry, Harry.

My brother was angry that Harry kissed Cho Chang because she was ugly. Hey, it's not my fault if J.K. Rowling wanted her hero to have a "thing" for Chinese people! (No Zhenli Ye Gon pun intended).

L'ami Geraud said he only liked Hermione because she's pretty. Well, I don't think Rowling wanted her character to be as good looking as Emma Watson.

And my brother's friend didn't like it because of all the reasons mentioned above.

Well... in my humble opinion (and I read the book) I liked the adaptation. Angsty, yes, but it was fine to me. But nobody listened, and we moved on to the house of my brother's friend, who's the sister of one of my closest friends (see "Stranger in this Town" entry). After having lunch, her dad wanted to read us some jokes he had found in the newspaper, but what actually made me laugh was the fact that the jokes shared the page with a news bit that said Pulparindos have lead on them, and a very pornographic natural Viagra ad.
When the jokes ended, my brother, his friend, Geraud (who in a second will be known as The Flying Frenchman) and me decided to go out for a walk and we went to the park.
We got to the swings, and we were wasting time when suddenly Geraud started swiging himself just a bit too hard... and actually JUMPED OFF the swing. He landed on the dirt with a thud, while my brother, his friend and me were just standing there, frozen. We were so surprised, we didn't tell Geraud the swing was coming back at him and it hit him on the head.
The Flying Frenchman did his stunt once again and landed on his feet, and we drove our steps to the supermarket, hoping we could find a good board game to buy, but every game we saw was opened and emptied or very expensive. So we went back to the Friends' house, where we told the tale of the Amazing Flying Frenchman, and all of a sudden we all had laughter attacks which broke records. Believe me, my stomach was really aching by the time we got home.
I need a rest, indeed. And I need to start reading volume six of Mrs. Rowling's saga, in order to know what happens to my handsome (at least in my mind), fictional lover Severus. If everything goes OK, my next entry will be named Lady Stardust and the Document that Acknowledges Her as Mrs. Snape.

The End.

Birthday Wishlist

Y hablando de Bon Jovi... supongo que es noticia sabida que el rockero anduvo por aquí, como número estelar de un concierto para beneficio de Chapultepec (please play The Beatles' "For the Benefit of Mr. Kite"). Y, como todo buen concierto de beneficencia, los boletos tenían un precio que yo simplemente no podía alcanzar... por lo que me quedé sin ver a Bon Jovi, y con la frustración añadida de que probablemente quienes lo fueron a ver sean niños ricos sin problemas monetarios, pero también sin interés en el rock.
Y si la cosa terminara ahí... ¡pero no! El fantasma de los conciertos para gente con alto nivel económico me persigue: en una revista de sociales, vi que los dueños de un bar tuvieron la oportunidad de inaugurarlo con Collective Soul (un grupo que yo he rezado para que se aparezcan por aquí!). Y, por si eso fuera poco, también está la noticia de un magnate petrolero de Texas, quien hizo que Aerosmith cantaran en su cumpleaños.
En fin, después de que mi frustración musical maquinó todo tipo de tretas que iban desde lo exageradamente comunista (matemos a los ricos que pueden ver esos conciertos... pero, ¿y si no me dejan matar a Ninel Conde mis seguidores?) hasta lo estúpidamente neoliberal (debería explotar gente en mi plantío para tener dinero... pero mi jardín no es un plantío...) mejor decidí dirigirme a ustedes, mis amigos, para que hagan un pequeño sacrificio para mi cumple. Así, aquí ustedes escogen una de estas bandas para mi cumple... no se preocupen, no son bandas caras, y para hacerles la vida fácil, hasta les doy playlist... con todo y covers q hacen las bandas, pa que sea mejor!

Opción 1: Collective Soul

1. Heavy
2. She Said
3. Energy
4. Why Pt.2
5. December
6. Precious Declaration
7. The World I Know
8. Run
9. Shine
10. Perfect Day

Opción 2: Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

1. I Won't Back Down
2. Into the Great Wide Open
3. Don't Come Around Here No More
4. Free Fallin'
5. Mary Jane's Last Dance
6. It's Good to Be King
7. Taxman
8. Walls
9. American Girl
10. Handle With Care

Opción 3: Soul Asylum

1. I Know
2. Black Gold
3. I Will Still Be Laughing
4. The Tracks of My Tears
5. Runaway Train
6. School's Out
7. Somebody to Shove
8. Sexual Healing
9. Misery
10. Rhinestone Cowboy

Opción 4: The Black Crowes

1. Soul Singing
2. Custard Pie
3. Jealous Again
4. Hard to Handle
5. Stop Kickin' My Heart Around
6. Twice as Hard
7. Lickin'
8. The Night they Drove Old Dixie Down
9. She Talks to Angels
10. Remedy

Bueno, la verdad me conformo con ustedes cantándome Las Mañanitas, aunque sea desafinadas...

El llamado a la libertad de Bon Jovi

Nada que ver con David Lynch: al contrario, es Bon Jovi, el eterno adolescente, ofreciéndonos su nuevo álbum, en el que deja de lado su "rebeldía" a lo "It's My Life" o "Have a Nice Day" y las guitarras pesadas para darle un lugar a un sonido más fresco, e, incluso, más natural.
El primer corte, que da nombre al disco, es un derroche de energía y felicidad: un viaje en carretera sin destino, pero también sin preocupaciones. De ahí, las canciones van en el mismo tono de viaje: la chica a tu lado en un convertible en "Summertime" y "Seat Next to You"; encuentros y desencuentros en "You Want to Make a Memory" o "Whole Lot of Leavin'", y hasta una fiesta con "We Got It Goin' On". Y como todo viaje tiene un destino, la canción final nos regresa al New Jersey natal de la banda: "I Love this Town". En todo el disco, la banda tiene su sonido rock mezclado con unos tintes acústicos, un poco country, que le otorgan ese sonido agradable con excelentes resultados.
En resumen, el nuevo disco de Bon Jovi es un viaje agradable por una carretera soleada. No es "Thunder Road" ni Born to Run por el simple hecho de que no es Springsteen, pero definitivamente funciona.

Satisfaction: 86%

Recomendaciones:

-Cualquier fan de Bon Jovi debe tenerlo.
-Si no eres fan de Bon Jovi... ¡no importa! Puedes escucharlo y quizá te resulte agradable.
-Si lo piensas comprar pirata... no, mejor espera a que le bajen el precio.
-Pero si piensas que las bandas de rock ballads apestan o se deberían retirar, o que pertenecen a los antros ochenteros, no mereces un viaje placentero como este. Compra algo que esté de moda en los antros actuales: un disco de pasito duranguense.

Mujer Soltera Busca... Or So They Say

La cosa es simple: llevamos a Geraud con mi abuelita, y mi queridísima abue me dio un consejo inspirado en la poética del Muy Moreno Memo (aka Guillermo Prieto). No pretendo aburrir con detalles, así que simplemente pondré veros de este poema que no ha dejado mi cabeza y que volvió a mi vida súbitamente decimonónica. Lo demás imagínenlo ustedes.


"Ya vino el güerito, me alegro infinito,
¡Ay hija! te pido por yerno un francés"

No me opongo a los versos, pero las cosas con el huésped no funcionan así. Y, mind you, mi precoz prima de ocho años parece estar más dispuesta.

The Proud (Host) Family

Con la novedad de que hay un extranjero en casa. Como lo oyen. Y la decisión y su llegada fue tan repentina para mí como lo para ustedes que leen este post. La gente de Nacel (organizadora de estos viajes culturales) nos telefoneó para ver si podíamos recibir al chico, y en tres segundos ya estaban en la casa, los papeles estaban firmados y teníamos que ir al aeropuerto por un joven de nombre Geraud Zeller.
Y el rubio galito ya está aquí, con una provisión de dulces y de libros que lee tanto por obligación como por gusto. Es una lindísima persona, bastante bien educado y, curiously, he actually thinks I'm normal. Can you believe it? Hágame usted el fa...
But I digress. El chiste es que el chico ya está aquí, acostumbrándose al horario; hoy puso pie en Perisur y se ligó a media plaza sin darse cuenta. Nice kid, indeed. En próximas entregas hablaré acerca de más aventuras con el ami Geraud antes de que regrese a su tierra. Salut, Paris!

We Belong to the 80's: Maroon 5

Maroon 5:It Won't Be Soon Before Long

La ley de la evolución a su favor. Su debut, Songs About Jane, fue muy exitoso, pero atrás ha quedado el sonido golpeado y la tierra de nadie, entre el pop y el rock, en que los chicos de Maroon 5 se movían. Este nuevo disco nos trae a unos Maroon con un sonido propio; funky, para ser más precisos.
El disco se podría dividir en dos: el funk, que se puede apreciar en su sencillo "Makes Me Wonder" y que llega a su clímax con "Kiwi", canción acompañada con coros y hasta con un poco de metales, que terminan fundiéndose (de manera bastante acertada) con la guitarra rockera de James Valentine.
Las baladas son de excelente manufactura, con la misma influencia ochentera. (Es más, "Won't Go Home Without You" tiene un rasgueo de bajo que recuerda a Sting en The Police.) El recorrido musical es bastante agradable, hasta llegar a la canción final, "Back at Your Door", en la que la voz de Adam Levine rivaliza en timbre y en feeling con la de James Blunt, otorgándole al disco un cierre con broche de oro, por lo que la bonus track del disco especial, "Infatuation", hasta parece innecesaria.
Sin embargo, el defecto del álbum se lo lleva la canción "Can't Stop", que más bien parece un recordatorio del sonido de su álbum debut. Pero, por lo demás, este es un disco muy logrado: así, Maroon 5 afianzan su posición como una gran banda de pop.

Satisfaction: 88%

Recomendaciones:

-Si te gustó el primer trabajo de Maroon 5, seguramente ya lo fuiste a comprar.
-Si te gusta el pop ochentero y te gustaron los sencillos del Songs About Jane, compra este disco.
-Si por alguna razón llegó a parar a tus manos (estabas borracho y lo compraste, o te lo dieron en un intercambio) no tienes por qué enojarte, pues tienes un buen disco en tus manos.
-Si lo quieres comprar pirata... yo más bien recomendaría que esperaras a comprar la versión sin bonus tracks, que probablemente esté más barata.
-Si no te gustó Maroon 5 con su disco pasado, quizá puedas intentar darles otra oportunidad, escuchando algunas canciones de este disco.
-Sin embargo, si lo tuyo es Disturbed y .nonpoint... creo que estás leyendo esta reseña más por curiosidad que por otra cosa. Ve a headbangear por otro lado.