Issue 01: U and I engaged
Hello, it’s your internet friend Dave. You’re reading the inaugural edition of “Something To,” a weekly newsletter about the fantastic things that you should read, eat, listen to, watch, play and think about.
This week’s exploration begins with the last days of Prince, whose music was inescapable when I was young. He and author Dan Piepenbring began preparing to write Prince’s biography, only three months before Prince’s death (the book Dan ultimately produced, “The Beautiful Ones” is currently available for pre-order).
This week I also share a Japanese recipe for the greatest omelette you’ll ever have, get nostalgic for simpler times while listening to Bryce Vine with my daughter, watch a little sci-fi and play an iOS game that was so utterly, unyieldingly delightful that I’ve been listening to its soundtrack just to relive it. There are a few other goodies in here as well. Let’s start with the purple one.
Something to read
Prince was the first person I ever heard say “masturbating” out loud. Not in person. That would have been weird. In 1984 “Purple Rain” was a juggernaut of pop culture and like any self-respecting 80’s teen, I had a copy of the record. “Darling Nikki” was track number five, and it opens with this line:
“I knew a girl named Nikki I guess U could say she was a sex fiend.
I met her in a hotel lobby masturbating with a magazine.”
As a 13-year-old Catholic school student whose experience with sex was limited to the time I saw half an inch of Annette Kernich’s blue underwear peeking out from the waistband of her plaid uniform skirt, I found the song scandalous, taboo and irresistible, if not a little confusing. Exactly what is happening with the magazine?
Ignorant as I was, I knew enough to never play “Nikki” when my parents were home, as I’d never see that record again. Elsewhere in America, 11-year-old Karenna Gore Schiff wasn’t so lucky, as her mother Tipper Gore was inspired to found the Parents Music Resource Center, or PMRC, after overhearing young Karenna singing “Darling Nikki.” You know those Parental Advisory stickers that were everywhere in the 80’s and 90’s? You can thank Nikki and her wanton display for those.
I thought of my young self huddled up close to my record player as I read “The Book of Prince” by Dan Piepenbring, which appeared in the September 9, 2019 issue of The New Yorker (and online here). Prince chose Dan as the collaborator who would bring his biography to life shortly after their initial meeting in January, 2016. Three months later, Prince would found dead in his home at the age of 57.
Piepenbring’s article is compelling for several reasons. At its most base appeal, it offers peeks into the life of a notoriously private celebrity. For example, Prince often paid for out-of-town visitors to his Chanhassen, Minnesota home — “Paisley Park” — to stay at an area Country Inn & Suites. It was something he did so often that, according to a member of his team, he could have “…bought the place four times over.”
There are also descriptions of his Minnesota home, from candle-lit alcoves to a massive conference room table emblazoned with the unpronounceable symbol he adopted as his name while battling his way out of a recording contract. But that’s not there real reason to read.
Piepenbring describes his encounters with a focused, disciplined, driven artist who knows exactly what he wants and controls his environment with ease.
At one point, Prince recalls the overt racism he experienced as a child and as an adult. He speaks eloquently about his music: “Funk is the opposite of magic. Funk is about rules.”
He also expressed his growing desire to start writing and stop playing. “I’m sick of playing the guitar, at least for now,” he told Dan. “I like the piano, but I hate the thought of picking up the guitar.” All I could think of while reading that passage is the footage of Prince simply owning “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” at the 2004 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony:
At no point does Dan point out any hint, any glaring clue that something was wrong. He got quite close to Prince, spending a lot of with him in various settings and, at least as far as he reported, saw nothing to suggest that an overdose would take the musician’s life about 90 days after their initial meeting.
I mourn the loss of a such a talented human being as well as the art he will not create. Rest in peace, sweet Prince.
Something to eat
I have a lifelong fascination with Japan. I have an aunt who is Japanese, and as such my sisters and I experienced bits and pieces of that part of that culture when we were young. Today, my teenaged son recently returned from a week in the land of the rising sun and I’ve chosen to REPRESS MY SEETHING JEALOUSY by being happy for him.
As a fat guy I also love food, so I gave my young spawn instructions to bring snacks and recipes home. I’m glad to say he obliged me with lots of treats, including the following recipe for “omurice,” or omelette rice. It’s a western-style dish that’s popular with Japanese kids and features simple fried rice that’s lovingly enveloped in a thin, crepe-like omelet and topped with ketchup. You’re right, that doesn’t sound Japanese. But it is. Here’s how to make it.
1 chicken thigh
1 small onion
1 tsp oil
2 cups cooked Asian rice
1/4 tsp salt
3 Tbsp ketchup
1/4 cup frozen green peas
salt & pepper
1 tsp oil
Cut chicken thigh into 1" pieces. Dice the onion finely. Melt butter in a non-stick pan and add the oil over medium heat. Add the chicken and cook for 1-2 minutes. Add onion and cook until it becomes translucent.
Add cooked rice and mix for 2 minutes. Season rice with salt and pepper.
Make room in the frying pan by pushing the rice mixture aside and add ketchup. Cook the ketchup for 30 seconds and then mix it all together for about 1-2 minutes. Then add frozen peas and cook some more.
Here’s the slightly tricky part. Place half of the ketchup rice into a small bowl, pack lightly, and then unmold it onto a plate. You should have a bowl-shaped mound of the chicken and rice mixture.
Beat eggs and a pinch of salt together. Heat a non-stick frying pan with 1/2 tsp of oil. Pour 1/2 of egg mixture onto hot frying pan and make a crepe-like thin round egg sheet. Cover molded rice with the egg sheet, tuck it in around the edges and drizzle more ketchup on top. Lastly, @ me to say HOW UNBELIEVABLY GOOD THAT IS.
Something to listen to
This week, go and listen to “Sour Patch Kids” by Bryce Vine, off of the EP “Lazy Fair.” (Here it is on Spotify, on Apple Music, on Play Music, on iHeartRadio and on YouTube). Yes, it was released in 2014. As a middle-aged man I enjoy some leeway on keeping up with pop music. Plus, these cool September evenings are the perfect time to indulge in this wistful, nostalgic jam.
“Sour Patch Kids” is just right for the end of summer, with its “driving with the windows down” vibe, retro-cool pop culture references, and reflective lyrics that speak to relatable stresses:
“But, now that I am older, I'll admit that I am over
All the stress and shit that comes
from holding life up on your shoulders
It's a chore, I'm sick of being bored
I'm sick of always stressin’ over shit I could ignore”
The song’s catchy chorus sticks with you in a feel-good kind of way while waxing nostalgic for the easy, breezy days of youth:
“I don't wanna worry bout nothin for a while
I just wanna play around livin' like a child
With old tunes jammin on my Walkman
And some Sour Patch Kids and a Coke can.
I don't wanna think about anything at all
I just wanna run around doin’ what I want
With a pretty-ass girl and a slow jam
And some Sour Patch Kids and a Coke can.”
Who hasn’t wanted to go back to those days? I sure have. Of course it’s impossible, and Bryce acknowledges that, too:
“I guess it's just my own immaturity
Burnin' through me internally
Take imagination and making it a reality.”
Yes, there are a few F-Bombs in “Sour Patch Kids,” so don’t queue it up with the kids in the car. Instead, listen to it with the windows down, the volume up, and a can of Coke in the cup holder.
Something to watch
My pick for something to watch this week is the sci-fi Netflix original “I Am Mother” starring Clara Rugaard, Hilary Swank and Rose Byrne as “Mother,” the android tasked with repopulating the Earth with humans after an apocalyptic event. It’s smart, well-acted (all three women are terrific) and tense throughout. Plus, the CGI is absolutely fantastic.
Young “Daughter,” played by Rugaard, is raised by Mother in a clean, sterile facility. As we watch her grow into a young woman she learns everything from home making skills to medical procedures, all at Mother’s hip. Of course it all takes a turn and I don’t want to give anything away, as it’s best to go into this movie cold.
I was surprised an impressed by the degree of parental emotion conveyed by the sight of Rugaard’s head resting upon a metallic shoulder, as well as the “been there” empathy I felt for the bot when Daughter was having a rebellious teenager moment.
It’s got a satisfying ending, too. Definitely check it out.
Something to play
Oh boy. Oooooh boy. Brace yourselves for this one.
First, a caveat.
I like the very specific genre of narrative-driven video games. The Life is Strange franchise is very dear to me, and perhaps I’ll discuss it in another issue. The point is I’m not a first-person-shooter guy, Fortnite doesn’t do it for me and I find Minecraft boring. But a story masquerading as a game? I’m in. That established, let’s discuss Florence, developed by Mountains and published by Annapurna Interactive.
Released on Valentine’s Day, 2018, Florence tells the story of 25-year-old Florence who is living a perfectly fine if uninspired urban life. She goes to work, talks to her mom on the phone, and browses social media.
While traveling home one afternoon her phone dies. Without that distraction she’s attracted to the sound of a busker playing cello in the park. She follows the sound to a young man called Krish. Eventually they go on a date, at which point one of the game’s most delightful puzzles is revealed.
As the two sit at a table, their conversation is represented by speech bubbles. The bubbles above Krish’s head are small, and suggest his short, nervous sentences. Even better is what happens when Florence speaks.
Her speech bubbles are presented to the player as puzzle pieces. You must assemble them to fit inside the dotted speech bubble above Florence’s head. This so beautifully depicts the uneasy, uncertain feeling of sitting at a first date. As the date progresses, the puzzle pieces get larger, fewer in number and easier to assemble. At last, both Florence and Krish are speaking freely and easily.
The story is broken into 20 chapters and I don’t want to give anything away. You can play Florence in a sitting and honestly, that’s a fun way to go. It’s sweet, charming and utterly delightful. A rarity. Florence is currently available on the Apple App Store and Google Play. As of this writing it is US$2.99.
Something to think about
I love this 2016 article by Sean Blanda: “The Most Defensible Thing You Can Do for Your Career: Build an Audience.” He says:
“Left unchecked, your natural instinct is to please your internal audience. After all, you see those folks every day and the feedback loop is strong. But you can’t take your internal audience with you if you move to the next gig. Communicate often with those folks, they are important. But don’t neglect the possibility that you have something to add to the broader conversation in your field.”
Thanks for reading. Next week I’ll be back with another issue of “Something To.” In the meantime, hit me up on Twitter at @davidcaolo.
You’re my friend. I like you. Have a good day.