1. The Weather
Doesn;t it seem like it will stay sunny and short sleevesy? Seems bankable. Who had that song, was it The Acorns? Or the Pilgrims? It was a band Ann and Andie told me about when we all made the riot girl sleepover one-day zine together in high school, which was like 1993, and they were visiting from Omaha. The line "One hot day doesn't mean you should cut off all pants" or maybe it was "One hot day doesn't mean you should turn all your pants to shorts." As soon as it stays warm, I get tempted to not only pack my sweaters and pants away, but also, give them away. Like if the sweaters are gone it'll stay warm forever, an act of sympathetic magic.
2. Amendment to previous opinion.
St. Vincent record Marry Me , I previously said she was like post-Joanna Tori Amos, but actually I think she is like Linda Ronstadt with the Nelson Riddle Orchestra except she is both Linda and Nelson Riddle. She's really 40-ish for 23. Like Kate Bush does Sondheim.
3. In light of yr secret love of vocal house
The Apparat record is authoriative and pop. Techno's minimalism refuses shyness for this summer and gives into singing and sensuosness (or however you spell it). At first, it feels a little embarrassing--the singing and all the soft emotions. It''s too close to all those things we hate about winebar house or the later work of, say, ABC. That gooeyness that makes the Junior Boys both easy and hard to give into. The techno-singing is perhaps more palatable when it is "fey", or "Gibbardy", but it's moving past to a more passionate, house-y singerly singing; like a dare, all "'member this?" with a raised eyebrow. I think I can hang with it.
This week's Read-a-roo gots a thing I wrote about Nick Cave's libido and his hairline, Amy Winehouse's libido and her weave, being half-old and such. There is some other stuff I meant to say that got cut out (PS.I don't really feel 60, I feel a really 30 30), which maybe I will put in the new HIOQI or on here. HIOQI the reimagined not paper fanzine. Which is being made one day still. Even though this morning, looking through a copy of Paste, I realized I think music magazines are pretty much irrelevent. And not even because internet speed and bloggery or that sort of thing making them seem archaic and out of date; it's just because most of them are pretty terrible. I looked at it and thought "WHY DOES THIS EXIST?!" and could not come to an answer in my mind. The fact that it's on paper makes it seem that much more tragic. I was thinking, couldn't a fanzine be a something else? Like a story you call and tell people? A discussion club or a telephone tree? The conversation JR and Al and I had on the way to Gary? The one about conflicted personal feelings on "Stop Snitching" media fiasco after being a victim of an unprosecuted crime (JR), about the bougie nature of cultural criticism and how what we think or write about hip hop is totally irrelevent (Al), and but, ok, so does that mean you think we just shouldn't approach it entirely then, or is there a certain moral truism that applies across all cultures that makes criticizing hip hop "ok"--just as long as yr not doing it to affect a "civilizing" change, viewing white-liberal idea as moral standard (me)? Would that be a phone call fanzine?
During this conversation JR says "I don't care about Cam'ron, to me Cam'ron is just a man who wears jewelry," which felt like the true insite of the day. Didn't the guy who sang in the God Bullies do two issues of a fanzine called Insite? That's like a knock knock joke about living in the midwest in 1993.
Anyhow, why should fanzine ideas even be put to paper other than to make us feel important/"for posterity"? Why can't we just make a fanzine out of air? Or is that too emo?
Help me think about it, ok?
Mike Taylor did this Art here that's in this art show that has a lot of affordable prints , if you always think "I cannot afford art!" like I do, but seriously, you could go hog wild with like $60 on this spot. I want that Pippi Zornoza print; her work, in general, stutters my heart.
Alcazar are the SSION of European stadium-level camp. Props to Joan for turning me on to their greatness.
We started making a list the other night, after a viewing of Fletch (now on DVD!) of movies about journalism, being a reporter or working at a newspaper. Please email me yr additions to the list.
so far the list is:
Year of Living Dangerously
All the Presidents Men
The China Syndrome
The Great Muppet Caper
The Quiet American
Good Night and Good Luck
The Killing Fields
that bad one where Julia Roberts is a lady reporter
and here is a nice 10 minute film from 1940, for high school students, called, simply, Journalism, which features some info for the options available to girl reporters (writing about social events and creative ways to set the table) and other stern tips like "If you do not like writing, journalism is not the career for you".
Morgan's women's leadership group is hosting a forum tonight (Weds) at the THE NOTE in wicker park (Damen & Milwaukee--The Note is the club across from Myopic) for a discussion about preventing/stopping violence against women and girls, as part of the Chicago Foundation for Women's yearlong anti-violence initiative. Come on down!
6:30-9 pm Tonight at 1565 N. Milwaukee
all genders welcomed, 21+ as it is a bar
I went to the doctor finally and he said I have a very bad case of Bronchitis. They gave me accupunture and an IV of not-antibiotics to help my blood and said stay on bed rest for a week so I don't get pneumonia. So far the bed rest has not gone very well but I feel better, despite that I spent all day in Gary yesterday. But I already had a cough and a sore throat, so what could the place do to me? Yesterday, while reporting, a man told me and Matt that there are a lot of people in Gary with money, looking for ways to spend it. Because there is nothing to do there, people have to drive to Chicago. The man specifically requested someone come and open a Red Lobster. Gary has an organic cafe with vegan stuff and a juicebar now, that is totally worth stopping for, when yr on yr to and from the dunes. Being in Gary, with all these lovely and/ or decrepit houses that have been sitting empty for a decade or two, pocking blocks, every third house with newspaper up in it's windows, or a tree growing out it's door, you wonder, what will be of Gary in 5 years, or in 20. Will they just wait til everyone dies and bulldoze it? Maybe if they had a movie theatre people would stay. It's the only place in America where gentrification never came to. I will tell you the rest in my story next week or there abouts.
I can't stop watching this transformation-in-motion. Scroll down.
We read in the Version Fest listing in the paper that Paper Rad was playing the art show at 7. Turned out that the video show was at 7 and the band were listed at the wrong time in reverse order. The people at the door said they hadn't played, but were playing "soon".
The art shows theme was "fantasy worlds" or something similar. Which if you have been following the art the last 2-3 years, is kind of a given. Some of the paintings and drawings were compelling and interesting. A bunch of them looked the same, which is to say that the little dude in Lightning Bolts art has had a far influential reach. Isn't Matt cute in his hat?
D&D diaramas were well represented. As were dudes in bathrobes and girls who like to mosh to techno.
Lots of kids were dressed as wizards and Zena-ish faeries, but Ashen was not. Going to the party looking like a party is always a good look. As is representing for drunken hunters everywhere, and engineering an outfit that conveys the almost-there spring weather of the past week.
I have not been to a party in 5 years without running into these three. Just looking at Rotten Milk (R) makes me feel all of my 30 years rather acutely.
Cody built this giant skull castle in four days.
The cardboard tunnel with a beast face held together entirely by yarn was my favorite thing there. Second favorite: the full size functioning catapult with "BFE" carved into it; it ammo was a pile of dirty stuffed animals.
There was also a "life sized" hanging stuffed dragon with it's mouth was shooting patriotic streamers. Ben got caught vogueing in it's fire.
Later, they boarded up the Paper Rad display because people kept using it as a phone booth.
After 5 and a half hours, Paper Rad had still not played. We were a little pissed.
We left JR alone so he could talk to girls, and bided our time by driving out past the airport to the Krispy Kreme. I am still very sick with bronchitis, or amateur pnuemonia, boogie-woogie flu of some sort and need treats like donuts and tea for strength. We were the only people in the KK who were not super-stoned teenagers wolfing down dozens.
When we came back, Warhammer was playing, the place was packed and this kid in a sort of grunge-minotaur costume and his friend in a cardboard stockade were dumping Elmers glue all over their hands and trying to get people to shake them. I can appreciate that; sometimes I feel like I was born with that sort of urge, you know?
Finally, I found Edmar, who was running the show and he explained that Paper Rad had instead of playing had decided to do a DJ set a few hours earlier, and we must have missed it. I think he might have been lying. Or joking. It didn't matter. We left the kids to thier fantasy world and headed home to bed.
from the Chic-a-g0-go mailing list! Write yr state rep before Tuesday!
HELP SAVE PUBLIC ACCESS!
You have probably heard all the ads about AT&T trying to make Comcast cable more competitive, and a pending bill. Well, it's pretty complicated, but basically the bill AT&T is trying to push through statewide would make cable cheaper because they would ignore the moral obligations cable is currently required to uphold. They would not have to serve neighborhoods they deemed undesirable, they would not have the same customer service obligations (imagine cable customer service getting worse!) and worst of all for us, they would not have to fund PEG channels (Public,. Governemnt). So not only would that cripple cable access, but it would also cut off some of the best outlets of information, and the best forums for public discourse, and some of the only true local broadcasts. AND IT MIGHT PUT RATSO ON THE STREETS!
HB1500 (as it is called) will have a hearing in Springfield on the morning of April 25. Before then (today, this weekend, Monday or early Tuesday):
WRITE YOUR REP AND TELL THEM TO VOTE NO TO HB1500! To find your Representative and their contact info go to:
For more info go to: http://ga6.org/campaign/hb1500_420/ineg68urotim868?
There are several episodes of this womans Vagina Power show on Youtube, and I recommend you watch them all. This one addresses the conundrum of being addicted to the penis of a man that will not even buy you shrimp at Long John Silvers. And a plate is only 2.99.
This one is about how "dick'll make you slap somebody." Note that the woman sitting next to her with the folder and the incredulous look is her mother.
Morg-o came over before pottery to hang out. She was doing a make-up class and so I went with, just to "practice". They were confounded by the idea that I was going to throw some pots and then just stick 'em back in the clay bucket. The studio boss lady acted like I told her I was there to donate some enemas.
Morgo laid on the floor and tried to draw the cats to her. She was wearing the Bulls jersey she got for free at work as her pottery smock. I suggested we change it to say "BOWLS" because I like a good pun.
After pottery, she came and laid down again. She was tired from making clay magnificence. The cats would not bother with her still. I know what it looks like, but she wasn;t trying to entice Wyatt to visit her butt. I think she was doing yoga or some crunches.
Tonight we go back on normal pottery schedule and trim our "leather-hard" pots so they have feet. Last night our teacher made a joke to her regular students about how everyone likes a little trim, har har, if you get her meaning.
Oh, we do, we do.
Hey, just passing the word along-- Bird Names is looking for a show between North Carolina and Maryland on May 19th. It also appears they are looking for some shows around Little Rock, Memphis and New Orleans. Contact Bird Names through the Bird Names myspace page. They are really one of the best bands going in Chicago, check out their twinkling sounds especially "Nobody Loves Me". I also love the song "Nora" (not feat'd on their page) which is about Nora, my dear sweet friend, the song also made that more poignant as she now plays drums in the band and sings the song. I think the only words are "Nora Nora Nora". You defs wanna see them when they come through.
Long tall Joanie Hiller sent me a thank you gift in the mail the other day that says "Goose Island Scramps" and is a xerox of a picture of a basketfull of fried shrimp with a plasti-tainer of special sauce. It's colored in with neon hi-lighter markers and red. The sign has a handle. She says if I wave it, someone will bring me some shrimps. Or, rather, scramps. I waved it at Matt. Instead he put some crumpets in the toaster oven. I think he was confused by the neon green of the scramps.
Anyone else here committed to watching the whole week of Frontline specials about the war? I watch and shake my head "for shame" a lot, and mostly I just wonder what it will take to end the war. It is so big and dumb, I imagine it might lumber forever, a specter looming over the next 50 years. When female soldiers are on screen I think about this article . The reporting of the article is a bit melodramatic and first person OMG! for my tastes, but I don't doubt what she's reporting, about women being raped.
Kliene Knut!. Sometimes I wish my job was giving a baby polar bear a bath.
Touch n' Go and Steve Albini are combining superpowers (which one becomes the eagle and which one is the bucket of ice?) to have a DJ night with benefit raffle for our tiniest buddy, The Baby Cal Robbins. Raffle items include tickets to the Ted Leo show, Coco Rosie items and other T&G treats -- though the "Dream date with PW Long" prize is supposedly just a rumor.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Shut Up and Listen - A DJ Night hosted by Touch and Go and Electrical Audio
@ Subterranean Lounge (2011 W. North Ave)
featuring DJs Steve Albini, Interpretive Hunter, Miranda Yolanda Jackay Johnson
Lange, and Double Jeopardy.
I should of taken a picture, but my words will have to suffice. I showed up to interview Annie and she was dressed like a couture vato. Some japanese bizarrity grey plaid high button shirt, white billowy tank underneath, black jeans, white witch shoes. We talked quiety in the theater managers office because Julia Sweeney was the show in between the two Vanderslice shows. The manager's asst came back while we were talking, to use his computer, and we said, we'd be done shortly, it was just a quicky. He told us there have been a lot of quickies in this office. It struck us speechless, and then he just started backpedaling. Not speaking from experience. Not recently. He's only heard. Not like, heard, but heard about it. He's never seen it. I looked at Annie--we had been displaced off of the office chairs that the men needed back--we were in the corner doing the prison yard squat-- "You know, actually, I think we got enough. We're done. Thanks." Turns out that Allen is tour managing her, he was sitting downstairs with her purse and his, reading the New Yorker. I left to go eat with Matt (babys home!), New Tokyo was a wait, so we gambled on a place we kept calling Bangmee Noodles. We gambled wrong. Eat to avoid. S'was gross. We got back to the theatre and sat down with enough time to speculate what kind of people like John Vanderslice. The people in front and in back of us, older daters, others: proactively tweemo. But next to us, boy-girl braces face giddy date. We were both really pumped on this. I was ready to befriend them. Then five drunk douches filled out the rest of our row. When Annie came on stage in her wrinkley school uniform via Balenciaga hot-ensemb, the show-talkers, who were obviously "in their cups" as they used to say, were yakking loud like they were trying to be heard as the Green Line train pulled into the station. One of the guys yelled in Borat-voice "I Like!" and someone else wolf-whistled. Annie did not blink, she just pile-drove some din and some fancy-free hammer-on into our faces.
Matt and I discussed later about her penchant for foiling her own songs. She's an obvious talent, and she's beautiful and clever enough that she could just sail to stardom on those two attributes, but she's stampy and dramatic and rather than verse-chorus-versing you, and, I'm butchering how Matt put it, but-she does a Bacharachian tonal shifting and piling. Then topples, coolly. "Do you think she's sabotaging her songs?" I say. Maybe. She's cool and too smart to be uncalculated, but what does being a pop sabateour (sp) mean for a woman doing what she is doing, for a woman who is a quintuple threat. If she keep quirky, thats what keeps her from being Tori Amos, essentially. Is she a new post-Joanna archetype? I think we will know soon enough.
Also, the Plan B that is retailing on shelves now, with Electralane on the cover features a co-written column from JR Nelson and myself. It's called "Whatever happened to punk rock? Sniffing the balls of America; a column, gently" and I think it came out pretty good. I think JR is really genius. The column makes me excited for the next Hit it or Quit It to come out. In the interim, Plan B is the only magazine about music you need to read.
More later on the Brotzmann show last night. You know, I thought I was the only one who had a crush on the 66 y.o. seadog, but I saw him being canoodled upon by a headturner who was my same age and a dead ringer for a young Christina Martinez. She whipped out a pen, gave him her number, folded it into his hand and frottaged the side of his body with hers, kissed him on the side of his baby turtle face and whispering in his ear. JR and I were lamping on the couch, witnessing, and after seeing him play, none of us were surprized. Everyone knows: free jazz masters who blow like that could electrify the loins of the dead.
Natalie Angier, author of the fascinating feminist evolutionary biology book with the bad title Woman: An Intimate Geography wrote this informative and secretly funny article about the science of measuring arousal, which is filled with boners and bon mots:
"Men, by contrast, are generally fecund all month long, and they are theoretically ever anxious to share that bounty with others, a state of perpetual readiness that Roy F. Baumeister, a psychology professor at Florida State University, described as “the tragedy of the male sex drive.”
Top several things about this new SPOON record:
1. Britt singing like a girl that hates you.
2. "You Got Yr Cherry Bomb" horns--see also Replacements "Can't Hardly Wait".
3. Static in it's melancholy, negotiates a small space well.
4. Tex-mex nods solo
5. Shangri-Las v. Wall of Voodoo v. new wave dub luv
6. Cocky confidence of "Eddie's Ragga"
7. Shows it's power by holding back
Missed connection for woman on a date to a steakhouse with Billy Corgan. Amazing. Amazing.
The personal art odyssey by mail has bloomed. Everyones packs arrived today. or should have. Joan wrote first "Thanks so much for the banner that says MAP, I hung it over the map." She went on to say she thought it maybe was supposed to say "PAM". I guess it got tangled en route. "PMA" as in "I got my" not "PAM" as in non-stick cooking spray. JR says the fan blew SUMMER OF FORGIVENESS off his wall and he rolled up on it in his sleep and after 90 minutes of morning detangling effort, it was irreconsilably and fiercely tangled still, so we have to make a new one. Whatever. S.O.F. is all about continual bannering.
Positive Mental Attitude. PMA/SOF/07. Scrawl it on yr mitten.
And so it was written. And so it was done.
I can only imagine what these ones might arrive saying in a tangle.
"U LOV ME"
"A NEED TO FRET"
"GOD OR MIGNON"
I can only hope.
I have to wrap up my streak of painting e'rything flat black; it's getting messy, plus theres writing to be done. It's like the inverse of that Barr song, about obsessively painting everything with white enamel paint. That Barr record, pretty sure it's album of the year. Either way, seriously tough to beat. Also pretty great, Gonzales Solo Piano re-issue out now. Other news: The LCD Soundsystem record disgusts me. It makes my blood chalky and makes me feel like I'm trapped, Tron-style, in an internet-only etherworld ruled Reagan-style by Gorilla vs. Bear (or similar mp3 blog that makes me hate my precious life). It makes me want to live in a haystack house and only listen to the lapping of the shore, a real mind-shitifier Lcd's disco.
Or just live with a bale around my head to insulate me from this bad world.
THIS JUST IN: GOWNS are a great band and playing on Friday at South Union, with Rollin Hunt, the Daniel Johnston of the Bonnie Prince Billy generation and School of Art Inst jr. year dropouts. Gowns are experimental spooky and otherworldly. Not as otherworldly as Midnight Star's "Freak-a-zoid", more romantic, drunk & barfing from too many slugs of Robotussin. There are 4-5 really good shows on Friday, including LOW. That brand new Low record is worth however much it costs. It's a bloodbath. Endtimes, guns, betrayl, moral quandry, vengeance, reaping the fate you deserve and violence A PLENTY. Whew!
AND ALSO: The line up for next weeks Version fest is actually pretty decent--I'll see Paper Rad out of curiosity--it's been a few years--but my money is on Y.A.C.H.T., who are doing like 3 shows that week, so missing them (him?) will be hard unless yr trying to miss them.
You should really listen to this David Kestenbaum story--it's great. I heard an interview with him (living on earth podcast? I forget.) about the inherent difficulty in doing science reporting--how to make complex ideas condense to radio-size, into one minute bits, de-nerding it--and I have had a radio crush on him since then. I love this story and how deftly he reports it.
Because sharing is caring, and pretty soon the greatest life-destroying dustbowl the Earth world has known since the dinosaurs were pubescent will come and make it impossible for anyone to eat anything, so we might as well eat something good as we bide our fate, yeah? (Sorry to be so grim, but seriously, if that UN report on global warming is 1001 reasons not to further the human race etc, I am not sure what is.)
The following recipe is chutney-ish, a riff on chutney. It worked out, so I am passing it on to you.
3-4 baby carrots, or a smallish full sized carrot, sliced
3/4 cup of dried shredded coconut, unsweetened
1/4 cup lemon juice
2 inches of ginger, peeled, sliced
red chili pepper--i used crushed/dried, but you could use "live"
1 tsp black peppercorns, crushed
2 tsp of mustard seeds
a scoop of raisins, soaked and plumped and drained--if you feel like it.
put carrots, ginger, coconut, red pepper and lemon juice in the blender and blend it til it is a choppy mix. scoop it out of the blender and put it in a bowl. It should be damp, not wet.
heat the peppercorns and mustard seeds in a little oil in a skillet til the mustard seeds turn grey and pop. scoop them out and mix them with the coconut stuff. add raisins if you feel like it and sprinkle a little salt on it and it's done.
I am sick and slept too much and spent the whole day coughing and Truffauting. L'argent de Poche --engl. title "Small Change" is my favorite so far, second to 400 Blows. J.p. Leaud's epic foreverness, the total boy--standing in for all children living and dead (to borrow a Greilism), it could make me cry if I think about that last shot hard for a minute. Like getting smashed in the faced with the aggregated powerlessness of childhood, that movie. This film, not so much. This one is about the secret torments of kids, but also with some built in Pippi Longstocking style precociousness and the invisibility of kidworld.
I have only seen half of his films though.
Anyhow, Bad Kids with stealy paws and ill fitting euro pants in secret kid world, c. 1976 mingle with normal kids. Much beautiful wallpaper and hot looking French women smooching greasy pate'd balding French dudes who are their husbands and father to their adorably clad kids in bright knickers. Again, the wallpaper cannot be understated. Neither can Oedipal themes, boys internal sexual terror in relation to their attraction to friends mothers, 10 year olds telling dirty jokes about nuns, the terrific fabrics of kids outfits and the dreamy shack-barn hut that the bruised kid lives in. Thats the kind of house I imagine I would build if I had to build one by myself. Doublewide lean-to with shingles and sticks piled on indiscriminately; a shit of a barn--a real dream casa.
This is the stuff I made in class. Some of it is presents. Maybe it's a present for you. I am pretty proud of my handy work. Considering how much weed I smoked in high school and what a fuck up I was, it's surprising I managed to get through high school without a single pottery class. That pink maybe-ashtray got a lot of compliments from the teachers for it's "organic form", I was going for seashell but Morgo has been calling it "the vagina bowl" since before it got fired. When I do my line of JH Home Collectible™ "Dirth of Pots and impractical teeny bowls (sic)"™ Collection™ for Target™ (launching in 2009--dreamin' big!)--there will be a secretly vagina bowl, like Judy Chicago fronting on Martha Stewart. Subversive feminist soap dishes are the new something something. The little pitcher is rife with sharp edges. The asparagus dish has a little elphant on the side. I think the rest are defs ashtrays. Or bathroom dishes made for keeping barettes in. The green dish has a round bottom and so if you put anything in it, it tips over. It's a trick bowl. It's a looking at bowl with an edge like a sawblade. Who knows?-- maybe it's yr dangerous birthday present.
I got paid on some stuff, so anyone who I promise a present, banner, painting, ceramic knick-knackery to--shiz goes nationwide tomorrow via USPS. God bless stamps. Wordlife.
PS. Folks are posse-ing up for a trip to Fleetwood skate rink circa 7 pm on Saturday for an open skate. I am one of the drivers. Holler if you wanna skate. Or drive. Or shoot the duck while being blasted deef by b96 jams. It'll be way more fun than watching roadshow or getting over on bougie male coke hos at the 'Bo. Say that two times fast.
Dudes! Dudes! Evening of meaningful developments! So many exclaimation points are needed to express my multi-fold joy! I got in DaCapo Best of Music Writing 2007--I won't tell for what--it'll be the book's surprise!
Secondly I successfully made a bowl on the wheel in pottery class and got back five glazed peices fresh from the kiln--NONE OF THEM BLEW UP--I have a WEALTH of colorful catfood dishes now!
My life is full of blessings and I am filled with gratitude for all of them!
First visit to the flower dumpster since fall, and it was bountiful. Orchids and wild flowers and a trio of giant branches with yellow buds.
After all my packed arrangements, I still had tons left. In the past, I'd make the rounds and drop them to all my ladies, but none of them were around or they have moved away since. Sometimes when the plan doesn't work, you gotta do the opposite. You give the flowers to dudes.
Bright bouquet for Miles. Special just for him.
Forgot this guys name already, but he only wanted one. He's in a band with Phillip, my editor. I think they are called Soft William, they played tonight and we all missed it.
Philip only wanted one flower. Good use of one flower though. The other guy in their band took a bunch. (was that a pun?)
Noah was so appreciative. One of the great pleasures of my life was playing in a band with him.
JR with a clutch of tropical flowers to brighten up the late shift.
Michael "playing Wicker Parks funeral" as JR put it. Has anyone else noticed the missed connections that "Accordian Guy" is racking on Craigslist? Good to see being enigmatic works out well for someone...
Wes requested bright flowers to liven up his basement apartment. When Wes was in high school in Mississippi, his mom forced him to work selling Mary Kay cosmetics to girls at school. Now look at him.
After the rest of my delivery options failed, I put the remainder in the mailslot at the man's man's man's world of ODUM.
Oh my gosh. It's Teeters new synthetic pop band, her Ashlee Simpson by way of eem-ghetto Postal Service, The Ladybirds. This video is the only time in ten years I have seen her in a skirt. Teeter's whole life is an inspirational banner. She sold everything she owned and left her whole fashionable New York life and moved to a small town in coastal Oregon and lives a whopping four minute walk from Haystack Rock and teaches at a snowboard camp. She is living her dream--which I think is based entirely on Goonies and feminism.