All I'm receiving now is a kick drum mixed with static.
So, was a little wet out there today, eh? The commute this morning was…interesting. Getting from Brooklyn out to the 'burbs was no problem. Then it took me a half hour to get from one side of Elmsford to the other. I was pissed until I saw how bad it was: entire streets were under water. That is not going to be fun for the people who spend a lot on those nice suburban lawns.
Speaking of the 'burbs, I was thinking recently about the portrayal of the suburbs in media. I don't know why this popped into my head, since I had a very Brooklyn weekend (minus a couple jaunts to Manhattan to see the Aqua Teen movie with Alison, Cossar, and Sara and have dinner with Dave for the first time in forever). On the bee-you-tee-full Saturday, I took my aunts and cousins shopping in Williamsburg after they visited my apartment for the first time. Then, the next day, Jesse and I ventured to the other side of the BQE to meet one of Jesse's former co-workers for brunch. I couldn't have had much more outer-borough bonding time than that.
Anyway, I may now be a city-girl on nights and weekends but, as a 'burbs-girl by day, I think I can say with authority that not many people really do a good job of translating the suburbs to the screen (or beyond). I've complained about this before, but "suburban drama" usually means "oooh, sinister adultery," as if that's all there is to do out there. (See: Unfaithful, which has the dubious distinction of supposedly taking place in my hometown.) Sure, it happens, but does all infidelity stop when you go from Metro-North commuter rail to MTA subway? Doubtful. Tom Perotta, who kind of places his stock-in-trade in the suburbs, doesn't totally get it, either. It's more like he latches on to the worst, most superficial aspects of the suburbs and stretches those out for ungainly satire. Not that his stuff isn't good, it's not just a fair representation, which I think is his intention. And, as much as I love Ben Folds, "Rockin' the Suburbs," also misses the mark. The underlying assumption to the song is that suburban kids aren't as inherently cool as kids who live in the city. Au contraire-who else has the disposable income to download obscure bands on iTunes for their 80-gig iPods, put on $80 casual-lifestyle sneakers and Brooklyn Industries messenger bags, and head off to all the worthy shows in a 30-mile radius?
There have been a couple things recently that, to my surprise, mostly get it right. Oddly enough, Disturbia is a pretty good at nailing down the suburbs. There are kids who aren't over-achieving, 2400-SAT angels-but they're not all the victims of some kind of traumatic abuse at the hands of negligent, alcoholic-or-valium-addicted parents either. (The Quiet, which hilariously takes place in the idyllic suburb of Meridan, CT, should take notes about this. Most suburbanites get out unscathed.) The kids in Disturbia have a ton of resources at their disposal including an arsenal of gadgets: computers, game systems, iPods, cell phones, digital cameras, etc. And they're pretty much on their own to, you know, quietly harass their neighbors with 24-hour surveillance-until dinnertime, when they have to answer to their parents. It seems right, and I have a lot of good will about that movie because of it.
Less shocking, but twice as accurate, is Traffic and Weather, the new album by Fountains of Wayne. I only listened to it once, on the way to Philadelphia (while crossing the G.W. Bridge, so it couldn't be more apt), but these guys really know the 'burbs. To them, the suburbs are about running errands and waiting in line at the DMV. They're about driving around on highways in a second-rate car. They're about alternating between feeling totally lonely and completely in love. Maybe I'm just biased because they sing about the Tappan Zee on Welcome Interstate Managers, but I officially declare them the future ambassador of the suburbs.
It's funny that I end this post talking about Traffic and Weather, since that's what I started out with. Cross your fingers that the Saw Mill will get its head above water before tomorrow.
Speaking of the 'burbs, I was thinking recently about the portrayal of the suburbs in media. I don't know why this popped into my head, since I had a very Brooklyn weekend (minus a couple jaunts to Manhattan to see the Aqua Teen movie with Alison, Cossar, and Sara and have dinner with Dave for the first time in forever). On the bee-you-tee-full Saturday, I took my aunts and cousins shopping in Williamsburg after they visited my apartment for the first time. Then, the next day, Jesse and I ventured to the other side of the BQE to meet one of Jesse's former co-workers for brunch. I couldn't have had much more outer-borough bonding time than that.
Anyway, I may now be a city-girl on nights and weekends but, as a 'burbs-girl by day, I think I can say with authority that not many people really do a good job of translating the suburbs to the screen (or beyond). I've complained about this before, but "suburban drama" usually means "oooh, sinister adultery," as if that's all there is to do out there. (See: Unfaithful, which has the dubious distinction of supposedly taking place in my hometown.) Sure, it happens, but does all infidelity stop when you go from Metro-North commuter rail to MTA subway? Doubtful. Tom Perotta, who kind of places his stock-in-trade in the suburbs, doesn't totally get it, either. It's more like he latches on to the worst, most superficial aspects of the suburbs and stretches those out for ungainly satire. Not that his stuff isn't good, it's not just a fair representation, which I think is his intention. And, as much as I love Ben Folds, "Rockin' the Suburbs," also misses the mark. The underlying assumption to the song is that suburban kids aren't as inherently cool as kids who live in the city. Au contraire-who else has the disposable income to download obscure bands on iTunes for their 80-gig iPods, put on $80 casual-lifestyle sneakers and Brooklyn Industries messenger bags, and head off to all the worthy shows in a 30-mile radius?
There have been a couple things recently that, to my surprise, mostly get it right. Oddly enough, Disturbia is a pretty good at nailing down the suburbs. There are kids who aren't over-achieving, 2400-SAT angels-but they're not all the victims of some kind of traumatic abuse at the hands of negligent, alcoholic-or-valium-addicted parents either. (The Quiet, which hilariously takes place in the idyllic suburb of Meridan, CT, should take notes about this. Most suburbanites get out unscathed.) The kids in Disturbia have a ton of resources at their disposal including an arsenal of gadgets: computers, game systems, iPods, cell phones, digital cameras, etc. And they're pretty much on their own to, you know, quietly harass their neighbors with 24-hour surveillance-until dinnertime, when they have to answer to their parents. It seems right, and I have a lot of good will about that movie because of it.
Less shocking, but twice as accurate, is Traffic and Weather, the new album by Fountains of Wayne. I only listened to it once, on the way to Philadelphia (while crossing the G.W. Bridge, so it couldn't be more apt), but these guys really know the 'burbs. To them, the suburbs are about running errands and waiting in line at the DMV. They're about driving around on highways in a second-rate car. They're about alternating between feeling totally lonely and completely in love. Maybe I'm just biased because they sing about the Tappan Zee on Welcome Interstate Managers, but I officially declare them the future ambassador of the suburbs.
It's funny that I end this post talking about Traffic and Weather, since that's what I started out with. Cross your fingers that the Saw Mill will get its head above water before tomorrow.