Lookaftering

Some of you may question the depths of my allegiance to the agenda of the Religious Right, but you can't question my love for Jesus. I initially started this blog to document my life of Moral Purity with Jesus here in West Hollywood, but was unable to resist the lure of blogging about pressing social concerns related to politics and beauty. Ah, to go back to my roots, as they say in beauty school.

The weekend before this, Jesus & I protested Amoeba Records in Hollywood, so we came home with the new Vashti Bunyan cd, among many other things. The Vashti story has been discussed here and here, but the basic narrative is this: Singer chosen more for her looks rather than her voice to rule Swinging London chucks it all to live in a covered wagon in northern England; she cuts a record of songs about rural daily life with the luminaries of the Brit-folk scene, then drops out entirely for 35+ years. What's unexpected in this tale is at the end of those 35 years, she releases another album, and it's even better than the one before it.

Lookaftering features Bunyan's wintry vocals in a series of songs about getting older, if aging can be defined as the growing awareness that what you see going away from you won't always come back. The presence of Vashti's own children and their growing distance from their mother is felt heavily on this album: in the lyrics, in the artwork, and in the album's credits. Her musical children also figure prominently: neo-naif folksters Joanna Newsom, Devendra Banhart, and Vetiver provide instrumental backing, as does first album collaborator Robert Kirby.

It's little wonder this records has had such a strong an effect on me. Jesus & I are both in our mid-30s and this is the first mature relationship for both of us in that it isn't about the feverish rush of youth, but rather the growing sense of responsibility we feel towards others that comes with age. The Christcat's kidneys are nearly 14 years old and require my constant attention, my sister has advanced breast cancer, my dad is a jalopy whose four tires constantly blowing, and Jesus' dad isn't in the greatest of shape himself, if you hadn't guessed. A lot of the carelessness we would have taken for granted if we were doing this 10 years earlier is an inconceivable luxury now.

We also picked up the new Dirty Three album, Cinder. Jesus & I put this on late last Sunday night and we were mesmerized by its beauty. Or at least I was, anyhow, since Jesus fell asleep after two songs. But what songs they are! They're much shorter on this album and they number about twenty, as opposed to the half dozen that slowly unfurled to reveal their majesty on albums past. A good one, by any measure.

Things have slowed down enough here after the move to make me think I am, officially, Moved In -- which means instead of lists of 15 Saturday chores, we're down to making lists with about five items. This also meant letting Jesus sit down and read this here blog. He had two concerns. The first is that I would blow His cover before the Second Coming by divulging too many personal details, which would be totally uncool on my part. The second is that I always refer to Him as lying on the couch, or watching tv, or falling asleep. Let the record officially show that Jesus works two jobs and kicks righteous ass, housework-wise [happy?].