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If we're going by strictly a video resume, no one did it better than Peter Gabriel.
Example is "Big Time". Not only a great song, from a great album, but also an excellent music video.
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I was browsing around e-bay, searching for Milk Eyed Mender on vinyl, when I found out that Joanna Newsom is featured in this months Papermag. She's even on the cover as part of a "65 Beautiful People" spread.
I went to the magazines website, and they have an interview, as well as some videos of her.
Here are some pictures from that photo shoot.
When a child grows into an adult, a lot of residual stuff carries over from how your parents raised you, sculpting and shaping you into the person you'll be for the rest of your life.
Unless, of course, your psychiatrist can exercise those demons for you.
Most of us, however, are oblivious to the little things we pick up from our parents. Because a majority of the time they're minute.
I love my parents. I have a great combination of mother and father. I get along really well with them.
They, of course, are not infallible.
They do little things that are much like that of the squeakiness of styrofoam.
(Nails to the chalkboard never really did anything for me, but for some reason styrofoam being rubbed against anything makes me want to kill.)
For example, my mom is a LOUD TALKER. Every phone conversation, regardless of the room she's in, I could word for word dictate everything to pad. No matter how many doors are shut, blockading the path of annoyance. It somehow still seems to get through.
My dad loves to tell corny jokes. And at times they're endearing, but when there is any form of company, it's like he's putting on a standup special. I apologize to all my friends whom ever had to hear one of his bombs.
I feel like a high school girl anytime said situation goes on. I want to say "DaaAaaAaaaaAaaaAAaad! You're EMBARRRASSSING MEEEE!!!" but I don't. I'm not a douchebag.
Regardless of these things, I don't harbor any ill will towards them.
But!
I BLAME MY PARENTS!!!
What for, you ask?
My chronic insomnia. Which, I just diagnosed myself.
Why?
This is why:
My parents, for whatever reason, thought it would be a great idea to put this poster over my bed. Staring right at me. I was an 8 year old with a big imagination.
They didn't take this into consideration.
My mind, for whatever reason, thought that in the middle of the night Michael Jackson and ET would come out of the poster and abduct me onto some alien spaceship, and I would never be heard from again.
I actually believed this.
Keep in mind, this was before that whole kid stigma thing was attached to Michael Jackson.
It was an early "pedo-dar" going off, I guess.
To make matters worse, the song he contributed to the ET soundtrack was titled "Someone in the Dark"
I always imagined this song playing as I was being carried off, unable to move, screaming at the top of my lungs.
The idea behind hanging this poster up, was probably because I enjoyed the movie E.T. as a kid.
But who didn't?!
I don't think it warranted a creepy poster purchase.
Get me the VHS tape instead.
Thanks, Mom.
Thanks, Dad.
I now stay up until 2:30am when I have work the next day at 7:30am.
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such a classic. i forgot the days of animated 80s videos like this.