Monthly Archives: May 2007

More Mraz in Glasses (and Chocolate)

Turns out, everyone has something to say about Mraz and his choice of eyewear. This article, from April 2004, follows jasonmraz (I’m totally going to start saying and writing it that way) around the day he sang the National Anthem for Petco, er, whatever.

It also mentions chocolate fondue. I have often mentioned Mraz and chocolate fondue in the same breath. Coincidence? Are Mraz and chocolate fondue somehow wrapped up together in some great cacao industry conspiracy? I usually find myself longing for something smooth and sweet while watching Mraz perform live, but I thought that was just because of my tendancy to link chocolate with any oral, aural, or sensory pleasure. But maybe there’s more to it.

Anyway, follow the link to the San Diego CityBEAT:

Mraz is wearing outdated, unstylish bifocals. Still, a few more teenage girls point and swoon.


Mraz and the Doctor – Walking Sex in Hipster Specs

Speaking of geeks. . . There’s just something about a man in glasses that makes me say, “Mmm mmm, good God I’d like to read a big, thick book with him.” I still don’t know how I feel about David Tennant as the new Christopher Eccleston, he seems more like the Doctor’s little brother than the Doctor himself, but I certainly wouldn’t mind getting all soniced up by him.

And how can I not find a better picture of Mraz in glasses? I know I’ve seen them, but Google can’t find them. A little help, please?

David Tennant  Jason Mraz in glasses

I’m absolutely definite absolutely positive, absolutely definitely positive,

Jason Mraz Does the Beeb

I’m always finding new Mraz interviews out there, and this one I just nabbed off the BBC made me chuckle, so I’m sharing. I really can’t get over how right Jason Mraz is about absolutely everything. Sure, sure, a lot of topics don’t have a “right” or “wrong”, but anytime he agrees with me, he’s right, and that happens a lot here:

TOTP: Would you say that you enjoy science fiction more or less than the average person?
I love the Douglas Adams’ series of Hitchhiker’s Guide. I never understood Star Wars. I mean, I get Star Wars and I think the whole light sabre thing is fun, and I understand how he’s going for this kind of mythological story, but I can’t sit around and talk about who is who and where they’re from and whose side they’re on, like I don’t understand that. I do enjoy an old classic Star Trek episode.
TOTP: Star Trek original series or Next Generation?
Jason: Oh, both!

See? Douglas Adams? Totally cool. Bring a towel. Star Wars? Meh. Take it or leave it. But anytime Mraz wants to have a TNG viewing, I’m totally there.

Read the rest of the interview for more reasons on why geeks are so damn hot.

The “Idol” Worth Watching

The picture in the posting under this one is of “Eternal Idol”, a sculpture that isn’t at the Cantor Arts Center at Stanford. It’s my favorite Rodin work though so I had to include it. In fact, what the hell, I’ll include it again, this time in marble:
Eternal Idol

I have a special happy place in my heart for “Eternal Idol”, because I very clearly remember walking through the Musee Rodin in Paris, having spent dozens of hours in museums all over the city, not to mention the countless museums I had been to in other parts of the world, politely reading the little plaques next to each work and trying to take in all the names and dates and gaining a basic understanding of what separated the Impressionists from the Cubists from the Surrealists, and not really caring too much, other than to decide what I did and didn’t like and what I might be willing to hang on a wall, and after all of my dedicated gazing and reading and postcard buying and diligent consideration of form and structure and other art criticism vocabulary words, I stood in front of “Eternal Idol” and I just felt.

I felt my heart speed up a little, like I had accidentally stumbled on some intimate scene between lovers. It was like taking a shot of Mraztubation concentrate, without mixing in the two cans of tap water. I felt the strength and vulnerability of the woman, in a position of dominance, and yet looking like she was holding back and giving herself to him all at once, and the helpless, kneeling devotion of the man, and I thought it was the sexiest, most honest and evocative thing I had ever seen in a museum – a very Mraz, Bella Luna, “How you swoon me like no other” kind of pose where eros meets agape.

And in that moment it was like someone flipped a switch and I ‘got’ art. It’s the same feeling of clarity I had when Jason Mraz brought the whole world to a standstill – I swear the Earth stopped turning, just for a minute – by performing 10,000 Motherfuckers in Saratoga last summer. Just… click.

I’m not saying I was an art dunce before that, or that I’m an expert art critic now, but after that close encounter of the bronze kind, paintings and sculptures and architecture all came more alive for me and I was able to see them as more than just the facts listed in the guidebooks, or as being something other than just “pretty” or “God awful”, although I do still find myself thinking, “Dear God, that’s really awful” more often than is probably fair. I mean, somebody has to work on the crazy end of the creative spectrum, making portraits of the royal family out of recycled pantyhose and motor oil just to balance out the number of puff paint sweatshirts brought into the world every year.

Having said that, I think karma will ensure that someday I wind up with several grandchildren, all of whom will love to make their Nana shirts decorated with poofy pink handprints and kitty cats and smiley faces for every holiday, and I will wear them proudly.


P.S. – My, oh my. I just went looking for a link to a good puff paint site and I swear, I swear, I could not have made this up. This is what middle America considers a good time art, although it sounds like it should be punishable by law:

Angels are behind grandchildren! – Insert cardboard into a t-shirt and pin back excess so that it is ready to paint on. This will need at least two people and a young child in a good mood! Paint the child’s bottom with any color of acrylic paint. Sit child on the shirt so that it leaves a fanny impression. Wash up child! Let paint dry. The butt cheeks are the angel wings. Paint a face or use a photo iron-on of the child.  Make a “cone” of lace for the dress.  Glue on a halo made from a pearl string.

Butt cheek angel wings. My day just got a whole lot funnier.

Insert Discussion on “What Is Art?” Here

Eternal IdolAs long as we had this three-day weekend I wanted to make the most of it by getting myself a dose of culture, along with some sun and fresh air. Museums are a great place to fill up on class and refinement, assuming they aren’t run over with tourists in fanny packs and bedazzled tank tops, so I had a look through some guide books on the Bay Area and discovered that the Cantor Arts Center at Stanford University contains the largest collection of Rodin sculptures outside of the Musee Rodin in Paris.

It just so happens that the Rodin museum is just about my favorite place in Paris (does it sound hoity toity to say I have a favorite place in Paris?), and one of the best museums I’ve ever been to, so finding out that there was a smaller version right in my own backyard was pretty damn exciting. Finding out that it’s a free museum just about sent me dancing in circles. So I took mom and we had a nice afternoon on Sunday wandering around and staring at naked, chisled bronze men. Even without touching them, it’s pretty much the most action I’ve had in a while.

The museum has more than just Rodins, there are old Greek objects along with ceremonial masks from Papua New Guinea and a section devoted to contemporary art. But the highlights are clearly the outdoor sculpture garden, which includes Rodin’s Gates of Hell, and a circular room with the Thinker smack dab in the middle. 

I thought the only Thinker was in Paris, but it turns out there are 21 Thinkers in all. Apparently Rodin made several copies of his molds so that more castings could be done of all his pieces, even after he died. I guess that’s the difference between sculpture and paining, you can’t just pull out a mold of the Mona Lisa and make an extra dozen.

If I was all the colors I’d paint you pretty in gold in a picture,

Weekend Reading Assignment

I shouldn’t call it an assignment, because it’s more like a Highly Pleasurable Experience With the Written Word. One of my favorite columnists is Mark Morford at the SF Chronicle. He’s sharp and catty and a little bit mean, but only to people who deserve it, and I always finish his column feeling a little hopeful, even if he’s written about one of the many ways our nation and our planet are screwed, just because I figure if he’s smart enough to figure it all out, there must be other sane people out there as well. Maybe not in office or any place they can do any good, but it’s something to start with.

Another reason to like him: a search of his archive for the word “vibrator” comes up with 86 matches. My favorite is the one about vibrators being outlawed in Alabama. Oh, ‘Bama, why do we put up with you?

In today’s column, Mark Morford reveals:

I have never been, not one time in my entire life, so uncontrollably drunk that I couldn’t walk. Or stand. Or speak. Or see. Or remember what the hell I did last night. Or who. Or how I got home. Oh, I’ve come close a few times, but the instant I do my body recoils and my spirit regrets it and I reach for the water, fast.

Again, I am filled with hope, and a little bit of relief. If this guy, who was probably was cooler in the 3rd grade than I will ever be, has never been that drunk, then I don’t feel so bad about saying the same. For years I thought maybe I had missed out on some rite of passage. Turns out, I’m just not a moron. That’s refreshing.

But mostly I like how Morford can always tie something into the big picture, our national state of being, our collective flashforward to what happens after we all get off the island. Do we freak out and decide we never should have left, or do we just move on with our lives? Wait, no, that has nothing to do with anything. I just can’t get the freaking season finale of Lost out of my head. Hurley and the bus! “I told you dude, I saved everyone.” If only he’d done a little “Yatta!” then all my television obsessions would tie neatly togther.

Maybe I should just let Mark talk about public drunkenness some more:

Of course, you could also easily argue that regular, near-comatose wastedness also reflects a rather obvious sense of sadness and self-loathing, a feeling where you are, deep down, so afraid that you don’t really have much going on deep down that you cling to this cheap drug’s ability to remove you from the responsibility of trying to figure out who you really are. You know, just like organized religion.

Which is why the Mrazonistas – spiritual backup singers for Jason Mraz – will always stay a disorganized non-religion, although I wouldn’t mind if we started meeting up for ice cream once in a while. Any excuse to get ice cream is good by me.


Classic Jason Mraz Journal

It’s only from February, so maybe it’s too young to be a classic just yet, but it’s one of my favorites:

Did you know the Greeks have 4 different words for Love? That’s not fair! I
think I deserve to have a way to say I really love ice cream and I really
love my Nanny (grandma) without bringing my Nanny into a world of lactose
intolerance and a madman’s craving for chocolatey deliciousness.

Eros is the passionate love, with sensual desire and longing; where erotic
comes from.
Philia is friendship, a dispassionate virtuous love.
Storge is natural affection, like that felt by parents for children, or
little ones for Nanny.
Agape – THIS ONE IS MY FAVORITE – is an all-inclusive unconditional love.
This is the one widely used in religious teachings. To have agape is to see
all people doing the best they can with the light they’ve got. Agape is not
spoken about. It’s a space you rest in, a state of being that is pure
uninhibited love. Someone in this state is not looking for a return on the
investment. In fact they don’t see it as an investment at all. This is
remarkable compassion.

Something to roll around your brain for a while, think about how you can get your head and your heart and all your other bits in tune to these ways of being. You know, now that all your favorite shows are in reruns and you’ve got some free time on your hands. Why not use it for a little loving enlightenment?

Read the full journal entry here.