Paul Simon Live in Hyde Park 2012
IF only, George!
This is how I spent my morning…
Bon Iver interrupts my work to bring me a lovely-looking salad. ‘What are these greens?’ I ask him, chewing. ‘They’re very unusual.’
He smiles with a faraway look. ‘Picked them down by the roadside, near the old soda plant,’ he says.
I decide to have a sandwich for lunch, but I fell in love with his adventurous spirit and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Berries for breakfast.
Now THIS is what I call music… An evening of 90s pop is on the cards.
Also, love this comment below the youtube video:
"90’s music will always be a legend where music is full emotions and unforgettable compare to the crap music they produce nowadays were songs are forgettable and nonsense! creating music for the sake of having music on the airwaves… I STOPPED LISTENING TO RADIOS AND LISTEN TO MY CASSETTE TAPES INSTEAD WHERE THE MUSIC BACK THEN IS MEANINGFUL AND THE CD’S ARE VERY EXPENSIVE FOR MY ALLOWANCE."
Let’s not mess about. This is probably the best thing I have heard ALLL YEARRR.
Not saying Quvenzhané’s name is an attempt, consciously or unconsciously, to step around and contain her blackness. Yes, sometimes black people have names that are difficult to pronounce. There aren’t many people of European descent named Shaniqua or Jamal. Names are as big a cultural marker as brown skin and kinky hair, and there’s long been backlash against both of those things (see: perms, skin bleaching creams, etc.). The insistence on not using Quvenzhané’s name is an extension of that “why aren’t you white?” backlash.
It is easier to be colorblind, to simply turn a blind eye to the differences that have torn this nation apart for centuries than it is to wade through those choppy waters. And Quvenzhané’s very existence is enough to make the societal majority uncomfortable. She is talented, successful, beautiful, happy, loved, and adored–all things that many people don’t figure that little black girls with “black” names could, or should, be. Their answer? Let’s make her more palatable. If she insists on not fitting the mold of the ghetto hoodrat associated with women with “urban” names, let’s take her own urban name away from her.
Refusing to learn how to pronounce Quvenzhané’s name says, pointedly, you are not worth the effort. The problem is not that she has an unpronounceable name, because she doesn’t. The problem is that white Hollywood, from Ryan Seacrest and his homies to the AP reporter who decided to call her “Annie” rather than her real name, doesn’t deem her as important as, say, Renee Zellwegger, or Zach Galifinakis, or Arnold Schwarzenegger, all of whom have names that are difficult to pronounce–but they manage. The message sent is this: you, young, black, female child, are not worth the time and energy it will take me to learn to spell and pronounce your name. You will be who and what I want you to be; you be be who and what makes me more comfortable. I will allow you to exist and acknowledge that existence, but only on my terms.