Pleasantly surprised: British indie pop celebrities read their email

Okay, maybe "celebrity" is too strong of a word. I suppose "internet-famous" does not actually equate to "famous". But anyway, I emailed MJ Hibbett of the indie band The Validators this morning, to ask permission to use his lyrics to the song Hey Hey 16K, for a node (natch).

Despite the big push lately, this was actually the first time I'd ever made a copyright request, and I was practically bowled over when I received a reply not only the same day, but only a couple of hours later! And Mark loved the idea! Hooray! I mean, it's almost enough to cement in one's mind the idea that musicians are nice people, by and large, as opposed to copyright-grubbing whores. Huh, whudathunkit.

Give it a shot, folks! It's not that hard. Here, I'll post up a transcript of our emails, just to show yah...

From: RoguePoet (mwkelley@att.net)
Date: Friday, June 18, 2004 11:08 AM
To: MJ Hibbett (mjhibbett@hotmail.com)
Subject: Copyright permission request for Hey Hey 16K lyrics

Mr. Hibbert, ((sic. yes, I actually spelled the man's name wrong. oops.))

I'm putting together a writeup about your wonderful song "Hey Hey 16K" for the website Everything2.com, and if possible I would like your permission to post the full lyrics to the song alongside the article. (In case you haven't heard of it, Everything2 is a collaborative online database devoted to interesting "People, Places, Things and Ideas", similar to Wikipedia or the BBC's H2G2.)

Everything2 is a non-commercial website, and your lyrics would be reproduced only once. Full credit would be given to you and your band, naturally, and of course I won't post anything until I hear back from you either way.

Thanks for creating such enjoyable music,
-- Mike Kelley
Michigan, USA
( mwkelley@att.net )


From: Mark Hibbett (mwkelley@att.net)
Date: Friday, June 18, 2004 2:21 PM
To: Mike Kelley (mwkelley@att.net)
Subject: RE: Copyright permission request for Hey Hey 16K lyrics

Hi Mike - that sounds lovely, thanks very much indeed! The copyright is owned by my publisher, Wipe Out Music, so if you could just put that at the bottom or something please that'd keep him happy... otherwise, thanks very much, that sounds fab!

Cheers,

Mark

Woo! Rock on.

I just got one of the worst haircuts in my life today. I work in Washington, DC, and it was blisteringly hot today. I was drenched in sweat. I was eager to get my hair cut, so I went somewhere I don't usually go. I don't even remember the name of the place.

The lady who cut my hair - her name was Bianca. She was from Guatemala. We spoke Spanish. I am going to Malaga soon, and she complimented me, surprised that I could speak Spanish so well. She was surprised that a white boy who looks so American could learn her native tongue.

Some people think that concern about one's looks is vanity, of an arrogant sort. Not for me; I'm just self-conscious.

Of all the times to get a bad haircut, today had to be the day! DAMMIT!

The moral of the story is, do your due diligence before letting some scissor-happy urban stylist touch your coiff. Now I'm forced to wear my Kangol hat out to the bars. Which I hate doing. Cuz it makes people think I'm ashamed of my hair (or that I'm bald). And truthfully, now, I am ashamed of my hair, but what can I do?

After work I checked my voicemails for the first time in a week. This kind of procrastination is not unusal for me. When you don't talk with anyone for weeks on end or get many phone calls there's not much need to check messages on a regular basis. After a while it tastes like desperation. A ritual to make other people reach out when they have no reason to bother.

So I checked my voicemail and there was a male voice on a message timestamped as Wednesday afternoon.

"Deidre's dead."

That's it. Nothing more. I played the message back twice and it still said the same thing punctuated by the same angry slam at the end. *69 only returned my parents's home number since they were the most recent call. My heart dropped and I couldn't cry. She lost her job a few months ago, buried under lots of debt and possible bankruptcy, losing her memory from sleep apnea along with her multiple medications. Maybe it's best for her, getting a clean slate if reincarnation does exist. Maybe he's fucking with me but that would imply being worth someone's attention.

This feels like a cliche considering the last time I spoke with her I was furious at her hiding a fiance and not being straight with me. Four months later and I get this.

You know, it's one thing for a person to be dead to you but it's another to wonder if they really are dead. Knowing her situation, I'll never really know for sure.

good bye. i loved you in my own obsessive and desperate way.

Let me get this straight: I'm writing this because I had to walk away from a first date with a handsome, romantic, intelligent, funny, wonderful man (he serenaded me for years) that I was hot as hell for, in my T-shirt and pants (no underwear, purse, and um, dude, where's my bike?) because of a problem I've been having with not just this man, but seemingly every other man I've dated lately. That is, I can't deal with the contemporary mode of single sex, that is, no-condom serial oral sex.

OK, you can stop laughing now.

No, it's not because I'm prudish. I don't mind fellatio, unless it takes too long (I knew a fellow once who loved it for hours all the while moaning "Just five minutes more, I'm just about to..."Stayed with him for three years, complaining all the way.). All things being equal, I'd like cunnilingus, as well, in its proper place -- body issues don't confront me on this, I think. Sixty-nine is tough: there's too much going on at once to really concentrate. I love sex. I just find my main fulfillment with another person in fucking and being fucked, and find oral sex to be at best, one of the many pleasant preludes to the main event.

It wasn't supposed to be this way, I understand: somewhere on the way from the "Lie on your back and think of England." days and now, there was this curious idea that women should get sexual pleasure as well. The problem seems to be that men, trying to cut a shortcut through the underbrush of intimacy to reach the pinnacle of ejaculation, have decided that the easiest way to do this is to simulate the homosexual practise of serial fellatio. He 'does' me, the way one 'does' dishes or windows, I 'do' him, we put our clothes back on, and call it a day, if not even. The only concession to gender made (even to the problems of differing anatomy, since most of these fellows consider direct clitoral stimulation -- the most difficult, and potentially the most painful form of oral stimulation -- the ONLY permissible option) is to insist that the woman have, not just one, but several orgasms, as defined by 70's porn -- moaning rhythmically, blushing, screaming -- on pain of everything from hurt feelings to the threat of having him continue until you do. That's not sex, it's a transaction. I hate to break all your hearts, fellows, but I'm not a fantasy, a whore, or a badly-paid coked-up Hollywood hanger-on with a film crew. I sometimes don't come at all, very rarely come more than once in an hour or so, and, if truth be known, don't think that that's bad or that you're necessarily bad for not having the Magic Tongue that makes it otherwise. You might even count yourself lucky -- if I were to have, as you seem to wish, such a transcendantly intense series of climaxes as you crave, how eager do you think I would be to do the same for you while rendered unconscious? And, no matter how exquisite you claim sucking on my button is for you, it's not the same for me -- I like cocks, I like fellatio, I can (even) enjoy the taste of semen, on occasion, but no matter how in love with you I am, I'm going to want to get laid by you. (Besides, since you should use a condom for even oral sex, and even a dental dam, why not go all the way?)

I love the feel of a cock inside me, being able to clench and hold it, as if with a hand, pleasuring it the way it does me, the way the head rubs against the little treasure inside the fringy purse, kissing my smallest and most intimate mouth against your tiny lips, whilst our eyes and more public mouths do above. I love to ride, follow, duel, and push back, and with my nipple in someone's mouth, I can get a climax up that can rock both of our sox off. When you come I love to see the look on your face and messily snog you while the last few drops come shuddering, shivering, out.

I wish I could get this across to him.

And I'd like my purse and bike back, please. And while you're at it, my underwear.

I e-mailed the programmer/ developer/publisher/ artist/writer/ etc of Pixelships to tell him I noded his game; he thanked me and corrected a few facts in my w/u. Nothing special or spectacular-- i just thought he ought to know. Maybe it will speed up the sequel.

I saw Shrek 2 tonight. It may be the only kid's movie with a Tom Waits cameo (of course he's Captain Hook, singing and playing piano in the corner of, I guess, The Prancing Pony) and the Eels and Nick Cave on the soundtrack. Neither get a big showcase-- there's nothing as breathtaking as the Hallelujah cover in the original, and nothing as exhilerating as I'm A Believer.

Still, the cameos spoke to the odd spirit of the movie-- make a movie designed to please everyone, and succeed. I was happy to see my musical heroes included; the Justin Timberlake poster in the next scene made sure people with more conventional tastes didn't feel left out. Eddie Murphy's Donkey would get annoying... so i'd get a wondeful bit of romance between Shrek and Fiona, or one of Shrek's moments of self-doubt. And when I was getting sick of that, there'd be Antionio Banderas' Puss in Boots fencing four guards....

Were there too many anachronisms? Yes-- Joan Rivers was a bit uneccesary. Was John Cleese (as the King) underused comedically? Yes. Were there bits so surprisingly funny/cute that I don't dare spoil them? YES. (Make sure you stay for the first bit of credits... you'll know what I mean)

Plot? Its complicated... basically, Shrek and Fiona meet the latter's parents. The father is not too happy with his daughter marrying an ogre, but he's willing to accept it... except the Fairy Godmother wants Fiona to marry her son, Prince Charming, and she's got an odd hold on the King...

From that there are complications and mistakes and action bits and tender bits and cute bits and 'holy shit that can't be the Eels' and 'Man, that was definatly too racy for kids' bits. The love between Shrek and Fiona was so palpable it hurts-- at the start of the movie its pure sexual passion, with the ogress gaining a sort of volumptous attractiveness. There's a bit where Shrek is behind a door and realizes his wife is on the other side, crying... and he starts to sob... and it damn near breaks yer heart.

I give Shrek 2 a 4/5, and recomend you get some friends and let yourself enjoy the ride. I suppose I'll organize this into node-quality sometime soon, but school break started and I'm enjoying the freedom from format.

Now Listening to: Tom Waits, 'Small Change'. Thanks, Dreamworks

Today was the day I almost got myself beaten up in downtown Montreal.

I was walking home after watching the movie "The Stepford Wives". I then decided to go into a little grocery store along Ste. Catherine's Street with the intention of buying myself an apple and two more apples for the a panhandling couple sitting outside the store.

All is well, I go into to store and pick out a few nice looking granny smiths, and pay my dollar fifteen. When I get outside, I see theses two hobo’s arguing then the one push the other one down. I watch as the one falls down in slow motion, I’m sure his drunken state is not conducive to balance. The hobo who pushed the other one down is yelling at him and I decide to get involve being the nice guy that I am. I figure none of the watching tourists/locals are trying to stop this (maybe it was the bystander effect), I may as well.

I go over to the guy who pushed the other guy down and try to get him to move along, at this point he decides he doesn’t like me and tries to hit me. I jump out of the way but I am really unable to stop him from yelling and approaching the other guy on the ground, mainly because I’m scared of him attacking me if I get too close. But I still continue to try to get him to stop while maintaining a safe distance. At this point a nice 6’5” 300lb black guy decides to come over and help me out, against the advice of his girlfriend who keeps telling him to leave. He basically stands towering over the guy challenging him. This make the guy decide to get moving and continue on his way down the street.

It was a rather interesting experience for me. As I’ve never been in a fight before and really don’t have any concept of what is involved in a fight. It would have been interesting to see what would have happened if I had, had to defend myself. Thankfully I didn’t, but I still wonder how I would have done.

As for the two apples I had purchased for the couple outside the store, I didn’t feel like giving it to them when there was now three of them (the guy who got pushed down by the other guy) so I continued on my way and ended up giving the apples to some other people sitting on a corner panhandling.

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