2008 Woodie Awards
Word.
I guess this is “Interview Week” here at blogs.dailyiowan.com/arts (Catchy, no? On the streets they call it b.d.c/a). So strap yourself in for some journalism, because here comes the Louis Walters interview with… Michelle Garcia, editorial assistant and ruler of all interns for The Advocate, the longest-running LGBT publication in the United States. Here she is:
Yada, yada, she’s really sweet and easy to work with, and she can fire me whenever she wants. She’s excited for the new Spice Girls tour, and she’s obsessed with her boyfriend. She’s 22. Here we go:
LOUIS VIRTEL: What experience did you have with The Advocate before you joined it and signed away your freedom to a chain gang of intimidating homosexuals?
MICHELLE GARCIA: Um, none. Actually, I shouldn’t say that. I wrote a presentation about media matters once, and The Advocate came up. When I moved to L.A., I found out they were here, and I thought it would be cool to work for them. And it all worked out!
LV: Um, so what did you do before this? Crack?
MG: I actually had an internship with a daily paper, a law journal. I wouldn’t say I sucked, but the boss was kind of evil, and they didn’t really have space for me. So I decided to peace-out. Then I had a job with the San Gabriel Valley Tribune, and soon I applied to five or six other places. I actually worked at RadioShack for four days. I never even got on the floor, it was just training. And then I got hired here. I was so happy.
LV: That’s interesting, I was just going to say, there’s something about you that makes me want to buy stereo equipment. Is working for The Advocate what you expected?
MG: Kinda, yeah. For some reason I didn’t think about how many gay people work here, but then I found out, and it’s awesome. I expected it to be corporate-y with business suits, but it’s such a friendly environment. I really appreciate that in a workplace.
LV: What other aspirations do you have? Or is that illegal here?
MG: (Laughs) I have a few. I joke that I want to own a publishing empire. My professors from college (SUNY Oswego) will all tell you even then I wanted to own a publishing empire, like I was a whack-job. Now, I hope to go to grad school in 2008. In the next few years, I want to be an editor or a financial or news reporter.
LV: Can we cut the small-talk and start talking news? Who’s your favorite Spice Girl? Same now as it was then?
MG: Oh yeah, because I had two favorites: Sporty and Scary. Because I’m sporty and scary. And I liked how Sporty dressed. The rest of them, the way they dressed, I was like, “Y’all crazy.”
LV: So grad school, eh? How are you going to swing that?
MG: In L.A., there are very few places you can get a journalism degree. There’s Cal. State Northridge, CSU Fullerton, and that’s really far, like 45 minutes from my house, but it’s a state school and it’s cheap. And then there’s USC, and the question is, will I get in, and if I do, how the hell am I going to pay for it? Just take out $70,000 in loans?
LV: Don’t worry, I’m sure your dream job as a financial reporter will pay that back. So how’s it been following gay news during your time here?
MG: I feel like I know so many more things now. It’s kind of like following a beat. Like “baseball,” except “gay.” And except that baseball sucks. I could do gay news forever, actually.
LV: How hard did you pee yourself when T.R. Knight (of Grey’s Anatomy) visited The Advocate’s office?
MG: (Points at floor in front of her). He was standing right here! He was cute, tiny, and adorable. He was sitting in reception for like, 10 minutes, waiting around. Corey [Scholibo, the arts editor] brought him up. He was here to look over the pictures for his cover story. But he shook my hand and asked what my name was, like it mattered to him. He’s really short, like 5’5”.
LV: Anybody else fancy roll through these parts?
MG: I met Calpernia Addams [a transsexual actress] once. She was really tall. I talked once on the phone to Chastity Bono, because she’s friends with Anne [Stockwell, the Advocate’s Editor-in-Chief].
LV: While we’re discussing my favorite subject, can you discuss any celebs you’ve seen recently in L.A.?
MG: I saw Molly Sims at the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. She was adorable. I’ve seen three times Owen Burke from Best Week Ever. Santino Rice [from Project Runway, be still my heart] lives in my neighborhood. I’ve seen him at In ‘N Out Burger and the supermarket. And I saw Nick Verreos [also from Runway] too.
LV: How psyched are you for the huge-ass Advocate 40th anniversary bash in September?
MG: It’s gonna be awesome, so kickass. I hope I don’t do anything stupid and have Anne Hathaway say, “There’s that dumb girl from The Advocate.”
LV: Tell the people something they don’t expect about The Advocate, other than I carry this whole operation.
MG: Every place I’ve worked, it’s been kind of a big operation. I’d never worked at a magazine before, so for me to see that 13 or 14 people work on a biweekly national magazine… I just feel proud to work here every time we put an issue out. Every piece is quality, and everybody puts their sweat into it.
Yes, you heard it here first. The Advocate: quality work from quality homosexuals. I don’t know how to preview next week’s blog, but I will say this — Gloria, aka “Mom,” is visiting for five days, starting today. Will her Catholicism protect her as she enters her first gay club? Or is Satan simply a better dancer? Godspeed, little Gloria…
Later, y’all.
Sportin’ “California Love” for ya, xoxo,
Louis and Tupac
Nigerian singer/songwriter/performer/political activist Femi Kuti will perform this coming Monday, July 2nd, on the Briggs and Stratton stage at 7:30 p.m. as part of Summerfest 2007 in Milwaukee. Kuti, 45, is the son of Fela Kuti, an Afrobeat pioneer and fellow political activist. Femi Kuti collaborated with noted hip-hop figures Common and Mos Def on his 2001 album Fight to Win. In an e-mail interview, Kuti discussed his father, his music, and his passion to help Nigeria’s impoverished.
1. I’m sure you get tired of all the numerous questions between your father and yourself and I’m sorry that I have to bring it up again. You have been described as less biting in your criticism of the Nigerian government than your father was. Do you agree with that statement and if so, can you explain why that is, or why you might be perceived as less harsh? Do you feel that being less biting is a positive or negative characteristic of yourself?
FK: I agree I am not as “biting” as him but you are forgetting that his environment at the time was quite different to mine now. He had just come back from America and the discussions of the time were all about the Black Panther movement and Malcolm X empowering black people to take action. It was a time for change not only in America but worldwide, a time to fight for rights and my father was energized by all this. I feel passionately about the same issues but feel they can be resolved in different ways. I do write about issues that I feel strongly about; I became the UNICEF goodwill ambassador which raised issues in protecting children to cherish them for the future of those countries.
Everyone acts in the way that they feel can get the best out of the situation and this is how I feel I can do it by talking to the press and media and they telling a wider audience.
2. Along those same lines, your lifestyle/choices seem to be at odds with your father’s, especially on the subjects of drugs and alcohol, marriage and safe sex. Is this a case of learning from your father’s mistakes or do you attribute it to something else?
FKl: Yes my father smoked, yes my father had many wives, yes my father had fun. Yes I am different but this is me and that was him. Just because my father was excessive does not mean that I would inherit this personality. Maybe I did learn from his example and did not want the same as him but this does not mean that I did not love him.
3. Which do you consider yourself most? A political activist, or a musician? How much of your music is meant to inform and educate and how much is made simply to entertain?
FK: I am a musician; I just like to write about what I feel is important and politics and social issues are. If one person takes on board my message then it is one more then there was yesterday — that is quite an achievement.
4. How much does the memory of your father still influence the music you write and record? After writing or recording a song, do you think, “I wonder if Fela would approve of this or would Fela like this?”
FK: Well of course what Fela wrote does influence me. I listen to a lot of jazz that he used to listen to as well as a lot of his music. But I think my music has developed from his; I have integrated hip-hop, remixed my tracks. Fela was very proud of his children and taught me everything I know so of course he would be proud. And now my son is a great musician — he would also be proud of his grandson.
5. When you’re not touring or working on new music, what kind of music do you enjoy listening to? Do you have any favorite artists? What kind of books do you read, and what kind of movies do you like?
FK: I don’t have time for movies or reading. I have a large family and a club to run that takes up all my time and I extensively tour. When I do listen to music it is jazz, such as Dizzie Gillespie and Miles Davies. I do listen to the music my son plays which is interesting but ultimately I go back to the music I enjoy.
6. What other American artists would you like to collaborate with?
FK: I have just written and recorded a new album, which my son performed. I decided not to do any collaborations as the last studio recorded album had a lot of collaborations. I just wanted to perform with my son and positive force.
7. Do you have a favorite place to perform in the United States? In the world? In Africa?
FK: It has to be the new Shrine in Lagos. I also enjoy performing at Summer Stage in New York — just amazing.
8. Would you ever consider experimenting outside of hip-hop, soul, afro-beat, and jazz and perhaps incorporate elements of blues, rock ‘n’ roll, country or folk into your music?
FK: Not really. I will stick to what I enjoy.
9. Can you explain to me your role in UNICEF, and what kind of influence that has on your life?
It is a humanitarian role and is very important to me. I went to Zimbabwe and these children have nothing, there are 1.3m orphans. If I can make people aware of this then hopefully things will change. Life is not about what you have; it’s about what you do. We must ensure that we make this a better place for our children, so that when we die they will say “thank you.” Right now, I don’t think they would.
10. Are you still distancing yourself from MASS, and if so can you explain to me why/what happened? Also are you organizing any other groups like MASS or in accordance with your role in UNICEF?
AC: If I can just interrupt, why did you disband MASS [Movement Against Second Slavery]?
FK: I founded the Movement Against Second Slavery in 1998, pushing for social changes in Nigeria. I disbanded it because everyone was coming after me for my money and not the interests of MASS. If I brought some money back everybody wanted some, and of course it wasn’t for the people who really deserved it, people who require the basic amenities such as water and electricity. Ultimately no one really believed in, or worked hard enough, towards the objective.
But I will continue. You don’t need an organisation to speak the truth. My music does it.
11. Have you ever played Summerfest here in Milwaukee before? What attracted you here, and why exactly did you choose to come here? Do you have any specific expectations of the show and the venue?
FK: My agent booked the tour. It is a big American tour and I look forward to visiting all parts of the USA.
12. Do the politics in your music stay mainly on subjects within Nigeria, or do the events taking place in Darfur and the Sudan and the events that took place in Rwanda find themselves in your music and bearing down on your mind?
FK: It is mainly Nigeria and how we behave towards each other. But as a good will ambassador of UNICEF I have been to many countries seeing the issues of child poverty and recognize that we have a lot of problems. The children are our future and we are doing little to alleviate the misery of these poor children. Instead of Madonna adopting a child why doesn’t she give to these children so that they are not taken from their surroundings but brought up in the surroundings of their heritage? She should be contributing to villages — this would help more people than only one child. Why should Africa be damned?
13. What is your greatest goal for the Nigerian people and their government?
To be treated equally, stop being so corrupt and think of others.
14. If you had one word for the people of Milwaukee awaiting your show, what would it be?
Let’s have a good time, but also remember to take something of what I say away with you.
It’s hard to believe, considering my previous feeling of near-loathing (or at least distaste) for the town, but several recent occurrences have sparked my reevaluation of Bakersfield. Here they are:
• I ate pickled cow tongue.
It was yucky — it tasted like very worked-over meat, which is I guess to be expected considering the intensive labor cows typically put their tongues through — but it accompanied a rather incredible Basque meal. The food just kept coming: cabbage soup, cottage cheese, salad, beef stew, some sort of ribs, spaghetti, French fries, ice cream. It seemed every time I turned around there was a new dish set in front of me. And it was all delicious.
But the best part of the meal was certainly the company. It was served family style, at a long table covered with a plastic cloth, invoking a sort of cross between middle school lunch rooms and family picnics — actually quite comforting, believe it or not. I met a woman who shoveled leftovers for her dog into a zip-loc baggie that she brought with her, a city council member who very enthusiastically recommended good beaches to visit, and a rather dirty old man who seemed entirely too excited to be sitting next to two young women. They were all great. And did I mention the wine was bottomless?
• James Dean died just down the road.
Who cares if it’s a shameless ploy for tourism. I love James Dean and the romance he represents, and we passed the tree he wrapped his car around on our way to the beach this past weekend. It’s very near wine country, which I’m planning a visit to in the near future. The beach itself was also pretty fantastic, though shockingly cold. I really wanted to play on the rocks, especially the big one way out there. I think I was a mermaid in a past life. Hopefully one more like this:
Not this:
• Oil derricks became beautiful.
We passed the James Dean tree shortly after passing a field of oil derricks. Full of rusted green, pink, blue, and brown beasts, this stretch of flatland is called by locals “The Lost Hills.” (Asdise: I’m not entirely sure why it’s called lost hills — it’s flat. So did they literally lose the hills? Were there ever hills? Mystery.)
It’s totally creepy, represents all that is filthy and disgusting about the industry, and I love it. There something just sooo appealing to me about decaying machinery. I feel the same way about abandoned factories and rusting pipes. These derricks start to look almost human, with their nodding heads continually working to pump oil. It’s sort of sad to think that they will eventually be abandoned. Were they once bright and shiny? What happens to oil derricks when they die?
• I met the gourd lady.
I got to write a story about the art show that’s opening at the museum this week, and one of the artists makes the most incredible things from gourds. Life-sized people, marionettes, tables, vases, masks, a baseball cap, pretty much anything you want, she has made. She hand-trains them while they are growing by wrapping them with glass bracelets and tying them up with pipe cleaners and panty hose. She talks incredibly fast and just seems to be overflowing with ideas. She said she started this because she grew up in the desert making her own toys from Joshua Tree bark. Some of her work is pretty creepy. The people, mostly, remind me of mutants after nuclear fallout. (Which of course in part reflects my tendency to relate all things back to Stephen King. Also, I’m reading The Wasteland right now.)
Anyway, her name is Betty Finch, and her website is www.finchgourd.com.
Of course, there are many things I still thouroughly detest about B-field. But I will regail you with those tales another time.
Mags
p.s. I apologize for again having no pictures of my own. I cannot yet afford a camera. But the oil derricks are actually the ones I saw, promise.
I’ve been hanging out and soaking up the culture in Spain for five weeks now, and I decided it’s high time I talked about some of the places we’ve visited so far through our study abroad program.
Do I sense a Top Five list on the horizon? Honestly, John Cusack: thank you so much for High Fidelity.
Ann’s latest adventures, or what I did over the first month of summer vacation: A Quick Recap of my five favorite experiences so far.
5. The Valley of the Fallen, or how to make a monument to yourself even though you were a cruel dictator
Originally built as a monument to all soldiers killed in the Spanish Civil War, the Valley of the Fallen is located in the mountains outside Madrid. Francisco Franco forced political prisoners to build this impressive monument in the early years of his dictatorship. A massive cross, 410 feet high, can be seen protruding from the landscape from miles away. We toured the basilica, where Franco is buried behind the altar (how poignant). Over 40,000 soldiers are buried in a crypt in another part of the church.
Most Spanish people refuse to visit this site because it honors Franco more than anything else. He even had himself painted into a religious ceiling fresco. One could argue he just had high self esteem, but Franco killed a lot of innocent people during his dictatorship. He was friends with Stalin, Mussolini, and Hitler — the kind of posse Mom warned you about. Even though the Valley of the Fallen is stunning, it represents a part of history that nobody wants to remember. Well, almost nobody. While we were touring the church, a man approached Franco’s grave with flowers. We assumed he was a caretaker or something, until he straightened up and saluted the grave Nazi style.
4. El Sagrado Corazón (The Holy Heart), or the hike up to Jesus
The Holy Heart statue is located on a hill above San Sebastián. The sole reason we ventured to the top was to get a killer view of the city and surrounding mountains. We chose a beastly hot day to do it, but it was well worth the climb, especially since it was free. The Holy Heart is actually a statue of Jesus, and it can be seen from all over the city. The hill was used as a fortress back in the day, so Jesus is surrounded by cannons. Jesus isn’t messing around.
3. Hike to France through the Pyrenees
I’ll admit, it sounds tougher than it actually was. We crossed the Spain-France border and ate lunch at a restaurant in a tiny French village. We also made a stop at the Witch Caves in a village where dozens of people were tried and killed for being witches during the Spanish Inquisition. It’s more or less the Spanish version of the Salem witch trials. People hid in the caves to avoid discrimination in the town.
2. Weekend road trip to Bilbao: home of a shiny museum but not much else
Bilbao is an hour west of San Sebastián, and although I’m sure it has plenty of worthwhile sites to see, the Guggenheim Museum is really the only interesting thing in town (minus a few incredible dance clubs). It’s an art museum, but a lot of people go just to see the building itself, built solely with curved lines. I recommend making Bilbao a day trip, you know, for the next time you happen to be in the neighborhood.
1. Festival de San Juan: party hard and jump over bonfires
Picture a beach party in the middle of the night, with bonfires up and down the water. People crowding together, laughing, dancing, burning stuff, and leaping over fires.
The original purpose of San Juan was to celebrate the summer solstice, the longest day and shortest night of the year. People write pledges or resolutions on paper and burn them, or they burn stuff they don’t want anymore, like old textbooks — anything to symbolize that they’re getting rid of the old and turning over a new leaf. They toss anything they don’t want anymore, and then they hop over it as it burns. It makes new year’s resolutions look like kid stuff.
“I’m not jumping over some stupid little fire,” I thought on my way to the beach. “What a wacky custom. Those crazy Spaniards.”
Then I saw some moms make a fire and leap over it, laughing like a couple of kids. I watched them encourage their children to jump over. I saw three students toss in their term papers, jump over the flames, and return to their friends.
“That looks like fun,” I said, tossing my gum wrapper into the flames. “Hold my purse.”
What more can I say? I’m a champion.
Okay, just kidding. The “fire” I jumped over was more like a smoldering pile of ashes, but that’s practically the same thing. When in Rome.
Until next week’s adventures,
Ann
It was 9:45 a.m. on the next to last day of class for our first summer session. Sunlight shone into our classroom, through the large windows that opened, screen-less, to the courtyard in the center of the languages and humanities building. Our teacher had given us program evaluations, as part of standard end-of-term procedure, then left the room before we started filling them out.
After a few minutes of soft pencil scratching, one girl announced, “I wrote that this building is old, dirty, and it smells.”
Bravo.
Miss North Carolina showed, yet again, just how patronizing some American students can be. Perhaps she thought it was cute to evaluate the program facilities, disregarding the work put into making the summer fun, educational, and overwhelmingly smooth thanks to the program directors in Pau. It was the tone of her spiteful announcement that made me judge her. With signs of a wealthy background sewn in every thread of her J. Crew, Lacoste, and Ralph Lauren ensembles, this girl was spoiled.
She is one of many examples of a stereotype I’ve come to believe in during my first month in France. It’s not of the French sporting berets or puffing on cigarettes, but of spoiled, unappreciative, ethnocentric Americans.
My classmate, who proudly announced her complaint, demonstrated her ignorance of the French social system. True, the building is old. The rooms are not equipped with the technology that is stocked in each corner of every American university. But, France made it possible for students to receive a higher education without gathering a truckload of debt along with their diplomas. This cultural difference went completely overlooked by my classmate, who was solely concerned with her own comfort. The stink factor she added for emphasis.
While in France I have been keenly aware of my nationality and the opinions French people have of Americans. Part of me wants to run from my American-ness, wants to blend in with the locals, wants to be asked for directions. Another part of me thinks I should challenge the negative image of Americans by setting a good example.
It is this part of me that cringes when a guy in my class explained to our teacher, with an overdone French pronunciation, that “we Americans” are a collective whole, that we do things in certain ways, and that our traditions are universal. Sorry Small-Town-Ohio, bleu cheese is not too “unusual” for everyone’s palettes, I do not miss Wal-Mart, and I can’t even remember the last time I thought about stepping foot in a McDonald’s.
American students have been a greater source of culture shock for me than anything French I’ve come across. A sizeable portion of them came to France with one thing in mind: the freedom to drink under 21. These 18 to 20-year-olds have succeeded. Every morning they boast, with droopy eyes and little, plastic cups of vending machine coffee, their rousing nights of absinthe shots until 4 a.m. They have little patience for new or challenging situations, and largely stick together in a sizeable herd.
This is not to say that every student on the trip is a poster child of “the ugly American.” We have a nice crew of people who are truly interested in learning French through immersion, who like to try new things, and don’t mind if the rain requires a change of plans. They are not embarrassingly loud in public, nor do they righteously spout declarations beginning with: “In America…”
There’s the cute hipster couple from Nevada. He rides a fixie and is never without his camera; she has a tattoo of flying birds on her right shoulder and a small, pursed smile. There are a handful of girls in the most advanced class who, one can tell, have been looking forward to being in France for a long, long time. Though sometimes obnoxiously in love with everything French, they openly embrace our host country and try to do the American image justice.
Then there’s the group I’ve been hanging out with. Lindsay is a wiry environmentalist, always animated and always très chic. We’ve bonded over a shared love of French shoes, French cuisine, and French men. Liz, a future high school French teacher, is a super-cute sorority girl from Chicago. She is a strong contender for winning “most-flexible,” not because of her nice legs, which have been the objects of many comments, but because of her “I am up for whatever” attitude.
And Tom, a 48-year-old English teacher from Idaho, has helped me many times to savor the French experience. He is studying in Pau this summer as preparation for his return to Pau a year from now to teach at the university.
The four of us are most often found dining at gourmond eateries, hiking through hills laced with vineyards, or checking out French films at the local cinema, le Méliès.
Along with the evaluations and the relief that some of the annoying students are finally taking off, is the reality that two of my friends must go home. Liz is returning to Illinois to work at a children’s summer camp, and Tom is going home to his partner, Ed, who is making a handpicked cherry pie for his return. Sigh.
Last night, over lobster ravioli, stuffed peppers, and Bordeaux, the four of us faced the end of an era. During the past month we had become close. We each brought a part of ourselves to the group, leaving behind our friends and home cities to discover new people and places. It was hard to give up friendships that felt so deep, so young, and with so much potential.
When you find yourself a linguistic minority, though you try reaching out to the natives, you’re still bound to those with whom you can fully express yourself. In a limited group where everyone is at once excited and vulnerable, people’s best and worst shine through. And like it or not, I’ve learned more about tolerance dealing with other Americans than I have in any sticky, French situation.
Daily Iowan reporters and editors write beyond the print edition.
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