L U N A T A L K with Eva Moon

It’s not the heat…

OK, well it is the heat.

I really shouldn’t be such a wimp about this. I come from a family of lizards (on my father’s side mostly, though mom’s been pretty adaptable). My dad is the kind of guy who finds 114 degree weather just fine for working on the roof. I’m not making this up. When I was a kid my parents’ idea of a great summer getaway was Palm Springs. Probably because it was cheap. You could get a hotel room there in August for bupkis. There’s a reason for that. 120 of them. I remember whole days in the pool, liquidy puddles of abandoned crayons on the shaded patio and putting my face right up to the musty air conditioner in the hotel room at night.

I vividly recall opening the door on 110+ degree Riverside summer days to be smacked in the face by the desert heat. It was a physical presence that swallowed you up whole and made your skin tighten and your head buzz. I reveled in the outrageous shock of it.

So in theory, I should be sneering at the liquidy puddles of native Pacific Northwesterners succumbing to today’s mere 103 temp. But I’m not. There is much to be said for air conditioners, musty or otherwise, but 87% of Seattle area homes have nothing resembling such equipment and there’s not so much as a paper fan to be had in any local emporium now. We have been blowing hot air about the house with a couple of small floor fans, but that’s about it. I work at home so there’s no escape to some chilly office.

The previous high temperature for Seattle was 100 even, recorded in 1941. We live in a temperate climate. Theoretically. Right at this moment it is 9:30 pm and it’s 91 degrees. Inside the house.

Monday night I jumped off a dock into Lake Sammamish, fully clothed. I want to do that again.

But instead, here’s one of my favorite hot weather dishes - and another entry into the Eva Moon soup collection. I’m not sure of the origin of this recipe for Gazpacho. A version of it was passed to me by my mother and of course, it’s morphed since then. It’s quite different from most. The thing I like best about it is that the veggies are diced rather than pureed, so it’s got lots of great crunch. It’s super easy and holds up well in the fridge for days.

Eva’s Gazpacho

1 cucumber, peeled and diced
1 bell pepper, diced

1/2 red onion, diced
A couple of stalks of celery, diced
1 large clove garlic, minced
Lots of fresh parsley, chopped
A little dill is nice if you have it
2 cans diced tomatoes, juice and all
1 can tomato juice
1 cup stock, bouillon or broth (your choice. I use chicken. I believe beef is trad)
Juice of a lemon
1/4 cup light Italian salad dressing
salt
tabasco to taste (but don’t be a wimp)

Mix it all up, chill then serve ice cold with croutons.

Or jump in. Clothing optional.

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Shake it

The Mediterranean Fantasy Festival is an annual weekend-long indulgence in non-stop belly dancing. Each year the boundaries of what constitutes belly dance are stretched. The operative word in the festival name is “fantasy.” It’s not about an art form frozen in academic purity for these people. It’s about having fun and expressing yourself. It’s good to be reminded every now and then that there’s a beautiful princess lurking inside the most unlikely bodies. Among the highlights were a charming troupe of flower-bedecked burlesque pixies dancing to klezmer-electronica, a towering tribal-goth giantess with waist-length black dreads who chose hip-hop, our very talented teacher, Zuleika showing everyone how it’s really done, long dangly coin earrings for only $5, and of course our own moment in the spotlight.

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The Cookies of Atonement

Never underestimate the power of baked goods.

Once, my keyboard amp fried three days before a show. I called the electronics repair shop in a panic. The guy said it was at least a week’s wait just to look at it.

“But I have a show!”

“Everyone has a show.”

It was time to break out the heavy artillery. I whipped up a batch of my magic peanut butter cookies.

(Here’s the recipe: 1 cup peanut butter, 1 egg, 3/4 cup sugar. Mix, roll into small balls, bake at 350 for 15 minutes, let cool a bit before trying to get them off the pan. They’re really soft right out the oven, but set up great.)

I wrapped up a plateful, tossed the keyboard in the car and raced over to the shop. The cookies were still warm when I got there.

They fixed the amp while I waited. Bribery so works.

Bandheimers and Redemption

This time around, it wasn’t bribery but atonement I sought. And I was praying for redemption through sugar.

Last Friday, the mister and I returned home from a lovely al fresco dinner in town to find a little note on the door wondering why we weren’t there for band practice. Wait, it gets worse. When I suggested the outing earlier that evening, my husband said, “Don’t we have band practice?” “No,” I assured him breezily, “that’s next week.”

Shit. A fevered review of e-mails followed and the outcome wasn’t pretty. The crucial message was there. I’d missed it and neither of us took the two minutes to check before sauntering off on our sybaritic excursion, dooming our bandmates to a long, trafficky and fruitless drive.

My, as they say, bad.

Abject apologies were certainly not enough. I planned cookies, but mere cookies felt inadequate considering both the magnitude of the sin and the fact that the temperature had soared to a degree approaching the national debt. My offering of home made ice cream sandwiches proved sufficient for absolution to be granted.

Phew!

Not only that but our band mates now are no longer the last living people on earth with no cell phone.

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Tip of the Old Derby

A cyclist went down. In the 69 years that the Redmond Criterium has been running (and boy are their legs tired!), I don’t know how much biker skin has become incorporated into the pavement of downtown Redmond, but I imagine it’s enough to make a whole new biker.

The nation’s longest running bicycle race played out Saturday under a brilliant sun, surrounded the usual cheerful, small-town festivities. As an arts commissioner, I get to walk in our goofy little parade handing out fliers for the Redmond Summer Arts in the Parks series. (“Arts in the parks! Free concerts in the parks! Arts in the parks! Free concerts! Arts in the parks!” ) My friend and fellow commish, Latha Sambamurthi dresses me up for the parade each year and it’s a chance to feel like a Bollywood movie star for a few hours. I love it.

The festival booths run to chiropractic spinal exams, Kiwanis and dairies, the food runs to bricks of curly fries the size of the mayor, and the music runs to 60s-70s-80s covers, but there were two beer gardens and any day that ends with fireworks has something going for it.

It’s good to be reminded that fun can be had without wi-fi.

BTW, the biker who fell was seen walking about the festival later, apparently unconcerned that he was missing about a quarter acre of skin.

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The odds are good that the goods are odd

Personal Ads
© Eva Moon

Tired of sitting home at night waiting for my shining knight
Personal ads might shed some light looking for a man who’s…

Having fun… with the personal ads
Just begun… in the personal ads
On the run… in the personal ads
Son of a gun… in the personal ads
The odds are good that the goods are odd

Here’a an ad from a guy named Rex. Seeks a woman he respects
Even so, one suspects all he really wants is…

What’s in store… in the personal ads
Give me more… of the personal ads
Will I score… in the personal ads
Can’t ignore… the personal ads
The odds are good that the goods are odd

Here’s an ad from a guy named Rick. Thinks that he and I will click
His ad looks pretty slick, but I fear he’s just a…

Little blind… to the personal ads
What a find… in the personal ads
Same old grind… in the personal ads
Out of my mind… in the personal ads
The odds are good that the goods are odd

I’ve had enough. That’s it, I am done
No more wasted nights. Wait… this guy might be the one…

Here’s an ad from a guy named Chuck. Say’s he’s built like a pickup truck
I don’t know if I trust my luck. He just hopes I like to…

Meet guys… in the personal ads
Nothing but lies… in the personal ads
Big surprise… in the personal ads
Getting wise… to the personal ads
The odds are good that the goods are odd

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12:34:56 7/8/9

Just saying.

A friend reminds me, if I go to europe I can experience it again in a month.

Mr. ESP

From the CD release party…

Mr. ESP
© Eva Moon

My heart has been abducted and flown around the globe
My head’s been deconstructed I’m ready for your probe
You’re using psychic powers to send me to the moon
The rapture lasts for hours the heat could bend a spoon

Ooooooh, Mr. E.S.P. You’re playing with T.N.T.
Channel the limits of X.T.C. Please don’t stop, Mr. E.S.P.

An out of body feeling, is this just lunacy?
Or have you been revealing a dark conspiracy?
Our thoughts are intertwined. You’re filling up my soul
You penetrate my mind and then I lose control

Ooooooh, Mr. E.S.P. You’re playing with T.N.T.
Channel the limits of X.T.C. Please don’t stop, Mr. E.S.P.

I’m rising toward the light, the feeling so intense
Transcending at the height near death experience
My paranormal lover you must have ESP
How else could you discover just what would set me free?

Ooooooh, Mr. E.S.P. Oh baby, it’s XTC
C’mon and set off that TNT Please don’t stop, Mr. E.S.P!

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Lying Eyes

Some optical illusions you can “get” once you see what’s going on. But some are so persistent that you flat out don’t believe it no matter how many times you drag swatches around in photoshop. Like this. I came across another one. The blue and green spirals really are the same color. Really, they are. No, really.

Read about it here.

I made another version of it to prove that it REALLY IS the same color:

You know, I still don’t believe it.

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Zombiespeak: A Linguistic Analysis

The phenomenon of “Dudespeak” is well-known. According to Urban Dictionary it’s “The language or mode of conversation that includes, but is not limited to, use of the ever-evolving term, “dude.” Meaning and connotations of the word “dude” depend on the circumstances and tone and attitude of the dudespeaker.

“Dude.” (Hello, friend. Here, have some nutella)
“Duuude.” (Hey, this nutella is amazing)
“…dude?” (Um…where the hell do you think you’re going with my nutella?)
“DUDE!” (Get AWAY from my nutella!)

So I started thinking, is Dudespeak linguistically unique? Are there any other populations where language has devolved to little more than a single word? The answer is yes: Zombies. If you conduct an analysis of Zombie semantics, you will find that while not limited to the single word, “brains” is so central to the Zombie lexicon that one can have entire conversations consisting of nothing else:

“Brains!” (Hello, friend. What’s going on?)

“…brains?” (I’m struggling with the existential dilemma of being undead. What do you think?)

“BRAAAAAAIIIIINSS.” (Existence precedes essence, ergo life is a prerequisite for self-definition. Without either true life or true death, the question is moot. Let it go, my friend.)

“Brainssss.” (Yeah, I guess so.)

“BRAAins.” (Hey, you just dropped a lung.)

“Brainsss.” (Oh, thanks, man. See ya.)

“Brains.” (Bye!)

(Happy Birthday, Alan!)

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Our First Review!

It’s nerve-wracking sending your baby out to be judged by people who don’t know and love you. We worked so hard on “Moon Falling Down,” striving to give it every advantage, but now it must toddle out into the world and stand on its own merits or lack thereof.

The album’s first review is gratifying. I’m reprinting it here, but you can read the original at BVS Reviews too.

Moon’s Falling Down Fun

Bruce Von Stiers

Irreverent and immense fun. That is what I thought while listening to an album titled Moon Falling Down. This album is from a Seattle area band that calls themselves Eva Moon & the Lunatics.

From the name you might guess that this was a whacked metal band, a strange ambient band or just a goofy pop band. But none of those are correct. I don’t even really know what category Eva and her band falls into. They have a bit of pop, but their music falls more into the jazz and light funk modes. Oh, also comedy. The songs on the album are tongue-in-cheek, innuendo filled or just downright irreverent. You just know that they were having fun recording this album as you can almost hear the laughter in the vocals and music.

The members of the Lunatics are Ferko Saksmanoff, Dave Quick, Mike Gordon and Sue Niemann. Mike is on bass. Dave plays guitar and keys. Sue is the band’s drummer. Ferko plays the flute, saxes and does percussion. As for Eva, she does the vocals. She also does some keys work. And with tongue planted squarely in her cheek, Eva lists “charm” as another thing she brings to the band. And all of the members except Dave play in a regional Eastern European Gypsy music band called Balkanarama.

For the first song we have a hoodoo jazz mix tune called Mr. ESP. It has fun lyrics, solid vocals and great horn music.

Hard For Me has a soft samba styling with terrific guitar and sax music.

Fat Chance has a concrete jazz base. Eva sings about this flashy guy trying to get next to her. She sings about the extraordinary steps he’ll have to take for her to go be with him. Things like winning the Tour de France and scaling the highest mountain. In other words, “fat chance.” The song has a really tough guitar solo in it.

Don’t Answer Yet is a fun torch singer styled song. At least at first. Then it moves into a kind of toe tapping smile bringing jazz beat.

For all of you fufu coffee drinkers out there, Eva sings a tongue-in-cheek tune called Mista Barista. The song kind of brings back the girl group sound of the ‘60’s.

Super cool jazz and guitar permeates another hilarious tune called Snap On Girl. Use your imagination about what the song is about.

Boomerang Boy has a Reggae feel to it. The song’s about a son leaving home only to come back home again. A lot of parents can definitely relate to this song.

Eva and the band do a wonderful job of capturing a Brazilian flavor in the amusing tune Brazilian Wax.

Personal Ad begins as a light R & B tune then moves into a slight funk mode. A sort of scorching lament, the song is about the unrealistic content of personal ads. As Eva sings, “the odds are good that the goods are odd.”

Another samba styled song is Circle of Stuff.

The band ends the album with the title track, Moon Falling Down. Beginning as a soft lullaby, it transcends into an almost otherworld sound.

Eva Moon & the Lunatics have a really great sound. Their music is top notch, mixing several different styles for an eclectic sound that fits well. And the lyrics are fun; filled with innuendo and biting commentary.

The King Country Journal called the band “the musical equivalent of stand-up comedy.” And the band’s own description of their music combines comedy shtick, a smidgeon of Amy Winehouse, a shot of Fiona Apple, one part Bette Midler chutzpah and tops it with the flaming red hair of Tori Amos. Yes, Eva is a redhead. Anyway, I more than agree with the Journal’s view of the band. And more. They are irreverent, comically in-your-face and just plain fun to listen to.

To hear some music from Moon Falling Down, or to even see some of the band’s videos, check out their official site. That site can be found at www.evamoon.net.

Thank you, Bruce, for getting it and please, God, let this be a harbinger of reviews to come.

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