-- 'It came together from watching a lot of The O.C. and Laguna Beach,' Messe says with a laugh. 'My wife is a fan of those shows, and I would watch them with her. Every time I would watch those shows, I felt like after the show was over, I would feel a little less satisfied with my life. I would feel my world was more black and white, and I would feel poor and fat. I wanted to reject that,' he continues. 'I feel we're incredibly lucky both as a band and as people, and yet we're still able to fall prey to the way the media romanticizes certain wealth and privilege. For me, it had a way of making me feel bad about my life. The line 'And I'm the one who wants to be with you tonight...,' I'm talking about my wife and my life. That soft-focused consumerism shown on those shows maybe isn't the most healthy thing to aspire to when real life can be pretty sweet and magical.'"
While stuck in bed earlier this month recovering from the flu, my husband surprised me by coming in and handing me a copy of The Road, by Cormac McCarthy. "This is a perfect time to read this" he said. Now, don't ask me why anyone would hand someone they love a story about the end of the world. Especially someone coughing up a lung from H1N1, but, what can I say? That's just one of the bizarre little quirks which passes for true love around here. Quite reluctantly I began reading this, quite sure that given the bleak nature of the story combined with our entire family getting Swine Flu, was simply going to ensure this book ended up in the literary graveyard that is my side of my bed until a sunnier day. However, much to my surprise, I immediately fell under the spell of The Road. It was quite simply, impossible to put down, whether or not I was feverish and coughing. My husband knows me so well. So, now that I'm almost done with the novel, I find I'm p...
Especially when those paths go back even farther than high school. I think he and I were butting heads as far back as elementary school! If my memory serves me right, Schaeffer and I ended up, briefly, in the Guilford Central School together. Fall 1968. Yep. I was a newly transplated girl from New Orleans dropped unceremoniously into a tiny, extremely humble elementary school out in the boondocks of southern Vermont. I had NO idea what the hell I was doing there and was suffering my own case of "Other-itis." I In my case, as an only child of often charming, but highly eccentric parents, my wild ride hit some very bumpy patches, More on that later. Back to Eric: See as a newcomer that year to Vermont from New Orleans I had an accent. I wore dresses and probably continuing too make my parents happy by literally curtseying to the adults they trotted me out to meet. Politely. Of course. That was my job. I can promise ...
