oh beezy

miscellaneous cultural commentary from two urban twenty-somethings. on this here interweb, we go by "bee" and "zy."

it was all a dream

So, time for some shameless self-promotion. And Biggie adoration, too!  I recently saw the new biopic Notorious.  Check out the review here.

Even though I knew B.I.G.’s biopic was going to be a bit of a bust, the trailer made me hope.

But even if the movie doesn’t measure up to the music, I’m glad the Notorious B.I.G. got his own tribute.  It’s about time for some parity.  No offense meant to Tupac, of course–it’s hard to compete with his charisma and otherworldly beauty on the hip hop memorial circuit.

It’s just too bad that the film didn’t give Biggie his due (and gave a lot of credit for what he did do to producer Puffy, or P. Diddy, or Diddy, or Sean Combs, or whatever name he chose right after the credits rolled).

Let’s not give any more credit to the industry that Combs has built on Biggie’s legacy. Instead, thank him for rapping (and thanking Brooklyn)…

…and enjoy his songs. They always take me back.

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and now we’ve come to the end

Of The L Word, anyway.  Too bad “The Last Word” was such a downer. Can I get a collective sigh?

It’s so sad it had to end this way, with such an unsatisfying ending. Dismal, with it almost painfully clear that Jenny was preparing the tribute video as her departing note to the group before announcing that no one liked her and offing herself.  And the faulty railing? Yes, we got it, guys–she was going to fall.  A joyous departure, for Tina and Bette to New York, Shane to freedom, Jenny to who knows, etc. etc., would have been so much better.

Even the “retrospective” was kinda lame. At least Russell Simmons, Mogul, let us know that the first time he saw the show, he watched four episodes back-to-back–on the StairMaster!

Thanks, Russell. (In all fairness, I did love his cameo with Carmen and Shane at the Wax launch.) And the retrospective isn’t all bad.  The best part? Daniela Sea waxing political on trans presence and class issues on TV.

But leaving the sixth season, with its disastrous murder mystery plot and humorless writing, aside (can we call it the Bizarro last season?), the majority of The L Word made my life better.

I don’t want to sound trite, but it really did change things for me.  I was already out, but when my friend Manda introduced it to me, I was just out (I’d say a few weeks), and about to go to a seriously unfriendly place to teach. A small town, somewhat close-minded, and though openly accepting, terrified by open bi- or homosexuality.

So after I figured that out, I watched The L Word every night (at least until I moved to the nearest city), and have often watched it since then in order to relax.  Some people have issues with its believability, or fashion, or Jenny being odd (I have to say, I identify with her), or Bette cheating too much (gotta say, I like how noble she always seems despite that).  I have my own objections (Max is kind! Be nice to him and stop giving him ridiculous facial hair!), but ultimately they don’t matter too much.  I will always appreciate the show for one reason: It made me feel safe.

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cough, memory

OK, cheesy. But having a cold is making me nostalgic.  Nostalgic for retro medicines (blue!), cold cure rituals. But mostly for the humidifier we used to have.  It was huge and round, and made of alternating brown and tan plastic strips (thanks, late ’70s design sense!).  It actually looked a bit like the carousel used for film projectors. The sound it made was like an industrial-strength fog machine.   These days you can get a sleek model: gray and misty, a blue penguin, a frog.  But my foghorn-volume machine felt solid and reassuring; I miss the reassuring weight of my old things.   I miss the texture of life.

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