chrisdellavedova.com

“Smoke dreams
From smoke rings
While a cigarette burns
I keep yearning for you…”

It’s about time that Zach and I got around to this particular Canadian chanteuse, because k.d. lang saved my life.

I started smoking in High School and unlike most people’s experience, I didn’t start smoking because of peer pressure. In fact, nobody that I knew smoked. That’s not to say that tobacco use was uncommon, just that most of the people in my school preferred it in the form of snuff, or chaw or those stupid little tobacco teabags - Skoal Bandits. I, being that most clueless or rebels, preferred the more lethal delivery system that a cigarette offers.

Once I got to college, however, I let my smoking out of the closet. Virtually any participant in the college parties that I frequented would have a Marlboro Light hanging out of their mouth at some point in the evening. College is where I got properly hooked and became a smoker. Being a smoker meant that chances are if you saw me between classes or on a break from work that I would have smoke pouring out of my mouth and nose. Being a smoker meant that I was a rebel, not afraid of death or social conventions. Being a smoker meant that I smelled like the bottom of an ashtray most of the time and struggled to climb more than three flights of stairs without taking a break. Being a smoker meant that I literally burned up thousands of dollars a year on something that was slowly killing me (that’s some impressive marketing). And, as time wore on, being a smoker meant that I was in a constant battle to quit smoking.

I can’t tell you how many times I tried to quit smoking, I can tell you that the battle spanned a couple of decades. Every time I ran into a health professional of any sort, I was encouraged to quit and I occassionally listened. I tried patches, gums, inhalers, Zyban, cold turkey, Alan Carr, tapering down, hypnotism, and not trying. Sometimes I would quit for a few days, weeks or even months, but ultimately I was sucked back in by the lure of nicotine induced peace of mind. It was largely the physical addiction, the strength of which I can attests to, but a big part of the problem is that my whole identity was tied up in being a smoker. Nobody, outside of Mormons and marathon runners, was a non-smoker. Smoking was part of my image, part of my style and I didn’t know who I was without a hard-pack in my shirt pocket and a Zippo in my jeans.

But as I write this today, I do so as a proud non-smoker, as someone who hasn’t smoked in over a year and a half. What happened is nothing magical, there was no pill that I took that made me into a non-smoker. In fact, the last time wasn’t that much different than any of the scores of times that preceded it. One big thing that was different was that we had just found out that Dr. O’C was pregnant. I had always said that if she got pregnant then I would quit, but I don’t think either of us had very high hopes. Something had changed, though, and this time it just worked. Take home lesson - if you want to quit smoking then go get someone pregnant.

It was still hard work and I shouldn’t be so glib. I used patches and these new nicotine lozenges, which taste like sugar-free breathmints, for ages. I am, in fact, still addicted to (non-nicotine) sugar-free mints. I re-read Allen Carr’s book. I think that his “Easy Way” franchise is a bit of a scam, but there are some gems in there. Particularly the idea that when you quit, rather than envying smokers you should pity them. There’s nothing like a bit of healthy self-righteousness to get your blood flowing in the morning. And, I listened to k.d. lang’s “Drag” album over and over, especially when I got the nicotine withdrawal crazies. “Drag” is an album of covers, all of which involve smoking in some form or another - hence the name. Now, if you think it is a bit masochistic to listen to an album that is all about smoking whilst trying to give up smoking, then you don’t know me very well. The songs on “Drag” are so smooth, so lush, so languid that just listening to the opening strains of “Don’t Smoke In Bed” was enough to drive the fiercest nicotine craving out of my head. k.d. lang saved my life or at least extended it a little bit.

“I have a habit i have been trying to lose
Everyone thinks that they know what they want
Sometimes your drug chooses you
There are some things that I’ve promised myself
Things I haven’t done yet
It’s my last cigarette
This is my last cigarette…”

———-

These posts, of late, seem to be drifting away from their stated purpose. Beyond it’s powers in the realm of smoking cessation, “Drag” is just a fantastic record. It’s probably the best cover album ever recorded. Lang’s at the top of her game vocally and the musicians that she’s brought forward with her after the disaster that was “All You Can Eat” seem to have gotten her conceit perfectly. You can tell from the cover that this album is going to be be playful and slightly twisted. With her cabaret cover of  Steve Miller’s “The Joker” and the tongue-in-cheek sincerity of “Theme From Valley of the Dolls”,  Lang shows that she’s not taking herself too seriously. But then with heart renching performances like “My Old Addiction” and “My Last Cigarette” she just blows you away. Her voice is fantastic - sensual, rich and smoky.

Zach did get a hefty dose of k.d. this Saturday afternoon as well as this story and a bonus lecture on the dangers of smoking. One of the reasons I quit when Dr. O’C fell pregnant was that I didn’t want to expose my child to second hand smoke and didn’t want him to think that smoking was cool. (That’s assuming that he’ll think I’m cool, an unlikely scenario).  Although, in my sample size of two it seems that children are less likely to smoke if their parents do - Dr. O’C’s folks smoke and she’s never had a cigarette; mine are vehemently anti-smoking and both my sister and I smoke(d).

It’s neither here nor there as the lecture and story were pretty well ignored - a response to which I should probably get familiar. But he liked the music. Zach’s a sucker for a good sing-song, and if  accompanied by melodramatic lip-synching and maraca shaking, he can be held rapt for a good two to three minutes.  Zach seems to like a good torch song.

“Don’t Smoke in Bed” opens “Drag” and “I Dream of Spring” is from k.d. lang’s newest release “Watershed”. Both of these are available from .

 

 k.d. lang - "Don't Smoke In Bed": Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

 

 k.d. lang - "I Dream Of Spring" [4:01m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

“I like AC/DC and ZZ Top
Bocephus, Beasties and the kings of rock…
…Punk rock, The Clash
Boy bands are trash
I like Johnny Cash and Grand Master Flash.

Flash…”

A Happy 4th of July to you all. It’s my fourth Fourth away from the States. While no longer resident, I’ll always be an American and so will Zach. He may grow up speaking with an Australian accent, preferring cricket to baseball, vegemite on toast to PB & J and Bondi Beach to Daytona Beach. But he’ll always be a natural born American.

Because of my aversion to American expat groups, I’ll be celebrating this 4th of July in the traditional Australian way - as just another midwinter day. But to my American family and comrades - have a great 4th and have a wiener for me.

 

 Kid Rock - "American Bad Ass" [4:32m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

“I fancy this, I fancy that
I wanna be so flash
I give a little muscle
And I spend a little cash
But all I get is bitter and a nasty little rash
And by the time I’m sober
I’ve forgotten what I’ve had
And ev’rybody tells me that it’s cool to be a cat
Cool for cats…”

-Squeeze

And by cat I, of course, mean hep cat in reference to your underwhelming narrator. The kids are still using “hep cat” these days, aren’t they?

I’m finding that sitting in front of a computer for ten plus hours a day and writing for a good part of that time leaves me pretty dry for the old interwebs. And hell, it’s been well over a week since I’ve run a gratuitous baby photo….

Dr. O’C, as a kindness, occasionally sends me photos while I’m at work.  I love getting them. Little glimpses of her and Zach’s day. From what I can tell, they eat a lot of ice cream…

…are working on basic vandalism skills…

…and seem to be running some kind of dog fighting ring. I’m missing out on the best of times whilst working.

 

 Squeeze - "Cool for Cats" [3:13m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Zach’s coming up on the time for his MMR vaccine. As with most of the jabs he’s gotten to date, it’s just a thing that we do, a right of passage designed to keep my child healthy. Not something I would have thought about much at all, except that I’ve had a little bird (who shall remain nameless) chirping in my hear about the MMR vaccine and autism. It’s a link that I’d heard about once or twice, generally as being absolutely mythical based on apocryphal stories by grieving parents. But, when it’s your own child you think twice and just to quiet that little quiver of doubt in the tin-foil hat part of my brain, I decided to take a look at the science behind autism and MMR. It turned out to be quite a story.

It all stems from a single scientific publication. In 1998 a paper by Andrew Wakefield of the Royal Free Hospital in London and twelve colleagues was published in the British medical journal The Lancet purporting a link between the MMR vaccine and childhood autism. Wakefield and his colleagues hypothesized that the vaccine caused an irritation to the bowel, making it more permeable to the proteins delivered by the vaccine allowing them to leak into the bloodstream. The researchers claimed that these proteins acted as toxins and caused serious developmental brain damage, particularly autism.

Wakefield’s paper was riddled with problems and the scientific community was almost immediately skeptical. It was based on an extremely small sample, only twelve patients. While Wakefield did find histological evidence to support intestinal damage in the autistic children, there was no control group to compare against. The study noted that “onset of behavioural symptoms was associated, by the parents, with the (MMR vaccine) in eight of the 12 children.” In other words, the researchers relied on parents of autistic children’s memories of events rather than health care professionals. Parents that were understandably upset and far from objective observers. Finally, thepublished article stopped well short of concluding that there was a causal link between the MMR vaccine and autism. However, when Wakefield spoke to the press he made no such disclaimer.

Predictably, the Lancet paper set off a firestorm in the British and world media. For example, in just six months in 2002 in Britain there were over 500 stories about MMR and autism. The MMR vaccine and any other vaccines containing a mercury based compound known as thimerosol (TCV) came under scrutiny by the press. Unfortunately, these stories rarely featured a rigorous examination of the facts on the ground. Every time that one of these stories hits the press more parents opt out of vaccination. Since 1999, the number of parents in the U.S. opting out of the MMR vaccination has nearly tripled. Cases of measles, which had been eliminated in the U.S., are on the rise. There were 72 cases reported in ten states in the first half of 2008. This can be causally linked to people opting out of the vaccine. More striking however, is that nearly 900,000 people worldwide, many of them children, died from measles in 1999. That figure was down to 345,000 in 2005 due largely to an initiative by the Measles Initiative to make the MMR vaccine more available in the third world. The resurgence of measles in North America should be a cold hard reality check - this is what happens when you do not get your children vaccinated.

What makes things worse is that Wakefield lied.

Since the publication of the original Lancet paper, ten of the twelve authors have retracted the conclusions claiming that Wakefield went too far in claming a causal relationship between the vaccine and autism. Wakefield, who was sacked from his post at the Royal Free Hospital in 2001, has since been charged with professional misconduct. This is based in part on the 2004 revelation by The Times (London) that some of the parents who took part in the original study had been recruited by a UK attorney planning to file suit against MMR manufacturers. Four or five of the children were covered by the legal aid study and Wakefield had been awarded £55,000 to assist their case by finding scientific evidence of the link. Wakefield did not tell his colleagues or medical authorities about this case and personally received £400,000 for his troubles.

The effort to sort out the science that Wakefield corrupted has been intensive. Scores of papers have been published refuting Wakefield and his colleagues’ results. There have been large, well controlled epidemiologic studies in North America, Europe, Asia all of which conclude the same thing. For example, one of these studies looked at over half a million Danish children, 20% of whom were not vaccinated. Compare this to Wakefield’s study that looked at 12 children, all of whom were autistic and had been vaccinated. All of these studies come to the same conclusion - there is no significant causal link between the MMR vaccine (or and thimeresol containing vaccines) and childhood autism. There have been no studies published in reputable scientific journals that claim such a link since Wakefield’s paper. The truth is that incidents of autism are increasing and have been for the last half century or so. Autism has a genetic component, but the marked recent rise suggests that there is some environmental factor involved. The first signs of autism in children are generally detected between one and two years of age, the same time period in which most children receive their MMR vaccinations - this is one of the problems in dispelling the myth of a link. But, except for Wakefield’s compromised work all studies undertaken have concluded that the rise in cases of autism is independent of the increased use of the MMR vaccine. Yet the fear surrounding the vaccine remains.

Which brings us around to two common themes here on chrisdellavedova.com - crappy journalism and scientists inability to communicate. The fear surrounding MMR is largely being propagated by the media, whose obsession with “balance” insures that in every story about MMR and autism both sides of the issue will be presented. In this case one side is the truth - that there is absolutely no link between autism and the MMR vaccine - and the other side is the lie fabricated by one greedy and corrupt scientist and his gullible colleagues. A lie that is, presumably unknowingly, being propagated by a press obsessed with sensationalism. Thus, having made its way into our cultural consciousness (it’s been on the TV, so it must be true) it is nearly impossible to rid ourselves of the misinformation. And well meaning people suffer. This happens, as it did for me, when little birds have friends who have friends who blame the vaccine for their child’s autism. It also happens when public figures, like presidential candidate John McCain, recite as truth something they read somewhere.

The media is not completely at fault, however. They are simply doing their job to inform and entertain the public, with the latter becoming increasingly important. Most scientists fail miserably to effectively communicate the realities of their research. Take for example, this reply to a Horizon program on the MMR/autism drama. Dr. Neville Goodman, writing in the British Medical Journal, responds to this program with the frustration that a lot of scientists feel with the media still spewing this swill. He writes:

“In 2002, according to the Child Accident Prevention Trust, more than 36 000 children were hurt in road accidents and around 200 were killed… five cases annually of childhood leukaemia may be associated with power lines. But perspective is precisely what is rejected by personal experience: so we have illogical campaigns to uproot speed cameras, to move pylons, and to give single vaccines.”

Goodman’s mistake is that he callously dismissed the “five cases of leukemia associated with power lines”. A mistake that many scientists make, we are so obsessed with statistics and data that we tend to forget the individual subjects of our research, we neglect to treat them not as numbers but as human beings. The families of those five children who developed leukemia by living under power lines probably do not feel that their campaigns are illogical. Nor would parents of autistic children consider their belief that the MMR vaccine destroyed their children illogical. There is no link, but we as scientists need to endeavour to educate - loaded with the facts, but deployed with compassion - rather than mock, deride or scorn.

——-

As you may have guessed, Zach will be getting his MMR vaccine next month. I feel good that I’ve done the research, that I’ve looked at the primary literature and the “other side”. (Guess that Ph.D. was good for something).

Win a juicy prize pack from Mario Ishii Hernandez’ power-pop band From Bubblegum to Sky over at A Free Man.

 

 From Bubblegum To Sky - "Even The Sunbeams" [2:34m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

“It’s loud and tasteless
and I’ve heard it before
You shout it while you’re dancing
on the whole dance floor
Oh bop, fashion…”

-David Bowie - “Fashion”

Some of you may have thought that I’ve lost interest in Zach’s musical education. I’ve not done a Zach’s Music Monday post in ages. It’s not that I’ve stopped playing music for him, quite the contrary, it’s just now that he’s mobile he doesn’t sit still and allow me to subject him to whole albums anymore. He also sleeps throught the night now, so there are no more Sunday pre-dawn listenings. He’s developed his Mum’s attention span - listens for a song or two and then heads off after the dog or a passing wallaby. I managed to sit on him long enough the other day to force some David Bowie on him. He bolted as soon as my attention was diverted, so it’s hard to know how much he enjoyed it, but Bowie got some chuckles during the howls in “Diamond Dogs”. That’s as close as we get to approval these days.

I don’t know what made me play him Bowie. I’m not a huge David Bowie fan. I certainly recognize his place in the musical pantheon. But really he was at his creative peak before my time. In the 80’s, when I became aware of Bowie, he was a megastar. Don’t get me wrong, he did some wonderful things in that decade, but even in my teens I had enough musical taste to recognize that his duet with Mick Jagger (and the accompanying video) was a crime against humanity. I never really forgave Bowie for “Dancin’ In The Streets”.

I got by happily for most of the 90’s with just the greatest hits compilation, “Changesbowie”, which spanned most of Bowie’s career from 1969 through the late 80’s. This compilation always makes me think of my time in Seattle in 1994 & 95. I had come off a pretty disastorous relationship, one that threw me around a bit emotionally (fragile flower that I was). After it ended, I made the decision to shake things up a bit in my life and try my hand at something I had always been vaguely passionate about - photography.

I started off shooting little known local bands, actors and the like for free or cost. I was not particularly good, but I tried hard and got a couple of breaks - magazine work and the like. Buoyed buy the taste of success and ample amounts of mind-altering substances I made the decision that the only thing standing in the way of me being the next Annie Leibowitz (other than male genitalia and a notable lack of talent) was my full-time job. I showed up one day, told them where to stick their job and walked out a bon-a-fide freelance photographer. I rented some converted warehouse space in the Pioneer Square neighborhood of Seattle, hung a shingle and waited for the money to roll in. It didn’t happen that way.

Seattle in the 90’s was a hot bed for music, and I did a fair bit of work for bands, most of whom had no money. Getting paid in CDs, beer or pot was OK for a while, but it didn’t pay the rent. In an effort to branch out a bit, I stumbled into fashion photography. Fashion paid well, but was extremely competitive. For someone with only a mediocre talent, I still found myself short at the end of the month. I also found that I had no head for business. When I got paid I usually reinvested my paycheck not in film or equipment or advertising or even rent, but in the closest night club or drug dealer. When the party stopped a few days later I found I had no money and started from scratch again.

This lack of both business acumen and notable talent resulted in me sharing my studio with two other photographers. The ebbs and flows of the fashion business meant that at various times all of the three of us were working in the studio space and sleeping in bunks that we built above our darkroom. Our studio was sandwiched between a couple of gay fashion designers on one side and a tweaky crystal meth dealer on the other. See, if I had been a better businessman, I would have marketed a visit to the studio as a one stop shop for all your modeling needs.

David Bowie was one of a handful of tapes that the three of us owned and the only one that was really appropriate for shooting fashion models. (Some of the others included Alanis Morisette’s “Jagged Little Pill”, The Beastie Boys’ “Ill Communication” and Alice in Chains’ “Dirt”. See why we used Bowie?) So on the days when all of us were working we might have heard “Changesbowie” ten times. Even “Ziggy Stardust” gets a little tiresome on the tenth listen, nevermind that piece of shit “Heroes”. It’s a testament to Bowie’s talent that I can stomach him today.

Two of the three of us in that Seattle warehouse were mediocre at best. But one of us, the one whose photos I’ve used to illustrate this post, was an excellent photographer. After a couple of years in Seattle he made the jump to the big city. He’s been working in New York since the mid-90’s and from what I hear, and see, is doing pretty well. Check out more of his images here.

I know that I’ve drifted away from the stated theme of this post which, in case you’ve forgotten, was David Bowie. I now own a half dozen or so Bowie albums, particularly those early Glam/Sci-Fi records. Most of these have been acquired in the last two or three years. The first thing was hearing Seu Jorge’s wonderful covers of Bowie tracks in “The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou” (Anne-Marie, do all the interns get Glocks? ). The second was living in Britain. My three years in the south of England gave me a greater appreciation for a number of British artists. I still can’t quite put my finger on it, but seeing the passion with which the apparently passionless English hold for some of their musicians makes you see them in a different light. This was certainly the case for Bowie. I still don’t class myself as a super fan, but there are days when nothing will suffice but “Aladdin Sane” and I certainly want the boy to hear Bowie when he was at his best.

Image credits: All photos are by Mark Veltman as featured in the New York Times.

 

 David Bowie - "Diamond Dogs": Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Friday was a dark day for the Georgia Bulldog Nation as UgaVI passed away just shy of his tenth birthday. Uga VI had the best winning record of any mascot in the school’s history. He will be missed, particularly in the season that Georgia starts at the top of many pre-season polls.

 

 The Georgia Red Coat Band - "Glory, Glory": Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

Not thinking things through is sort of the story of my life. I prefer to call it charmingly impulsive, others (the glass half-empty gang) call it recklessly impetuous. Either way, I’m here today with all limbs intact, so who are you going to side with?

When I was setting this blog up, my friend Nichole was my model and I pretty much fashioned everything after her site. This meant being very open about who I was, no mask of anonymity for me to hide behind, no sirree bob. I’ve regretted that once or twice since then largely because I have to be nice. I can’t slag people off like some of you are prone to do. I can’t moan about my family, or Dr. O’C’s family, or Dr. O’C for that matter - not that I would want to, of course. It would just be nice to be able to do so with immunity. Alas, in addition to not thinking things through, I’m also just lazy. That is why I can’t be bothered to change things up to become reasonably anonymous. One day…

My letting it all hang out style also means that I don’t blog much about work. As that is pretty much all I’m doing these days, it means my material is fairly limited. I really don’t know how either of my employers would feel about being the subject of a blog post. But I do know that some employers have been rather humorless about their portrayal on the interwebs.

Which is really a shame, because I would love to tell you about one of my employer’s (not mentioning any names) recycling policy. Before you think I’m some sort of vandal or Republican, let me just say that I’m all for recycling. In fact, I spent most of my time in Britain digging out all of the non-recyclable things that Dr. O’C used to put in our recycling bins. She’s got many gifts, my lady, but reading the side of recycling bins isn’t one of them. She didn’t seem to be able to grasp that putting a shitty nappy in the plastic recycling might gloop the system up a bit. (Brings a whole new meaning to the “This Bottle Made from 100% Recycled Consumer Waste” label, doesn’t it).

But I think sometimes people take the whole recycling thing a bit too far. At this unnamed employer, they basically run a zero tolerance recycling program. You recycle. End of story. The cleaners double as detectives and if they find anything in your trash can that could have been recycled, then a yellow card is placed on your desk. As well as the offending item, presumably. If it happens again, you receive a red card. It’s not entirely clear to me what happens then, but I’m fairly certain that I’m going to find out. I mean, in the spirit of scientific inquiry and all.

If I had a little bit more of a veil of secrecy in place, I could also tell you about another one of my current employers, who operates a strict no food or drink in the lobby or elevator policy. Strict to the point that some of my new co-workers have regaled me with stories of being called to the building superintendent’s office where they receive mind-numbing lectures on the costs of cleaning dried cola beverages from marble floors. Each of the employees have asked the obvious question - how did you know I was eating in the elevator? The answer - surveillance. Surveillance that makes the Bush Administration drool. Security at this building is not watching for thieves and terrorists, they’re watching for people eating lunch on the fly. So, now when I go to work I get that same warm feeling as I do when I’m unlucky enough to have to fly through the U.S. - that comfort that comes with excessive and ineffectual surveillance. The same part of me that wants to shout “oh my god he has a gun” in the TSA line at the Orlando airport wants to take a big old bite of a jelly and cream filled donut as I’m stepping into the lobby.

Actually, jobs aren’t easy to come by these days, so I’ll probably repress my spirit of rebellion and just accept. The problem will come when I get them confused. With two jobs I run the risk of forgetting where I am at any given time. I’m pretty sure it’s all going to blow up in my face on the day I dump my recyclable food waste in the elevator.

 

 Van Morrison - "Who Was That Masked Man" [2:55m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

“A bluejay hectors from the felled Catalpa tree.
Doctorate in science and a theologian’s dream
The dragonflies are trying to lecture me.
The seahorses as if we were in the sea.”

-R.E.M. - “Beat A Drum”

Time for the announcement of the winners in my Happy Blog-day contest. Dr. O’C has again drawn names from a hat (and again I have prevented her from cheating).  A drum roll please, Zach.

Right, could be waiting a while for that. Whithout further ado, the winners are:

NATUI

Jessica

and…

Jason

I’ve decided, however, that even the losers should get lucky sometimes - it’s the socialist in me. I can’t afford the postage to send everyone a CD, but I’m going to upload the playlist and the album art to a special secret place here on chrisdellavedova.com. If you didn’t win but still want the tunes, then shoot me an e-mail and I’ll send you the link and you can make your own “Best of chrisdellavedova.com” CD.

Brad, the mysterious winner of the Mono in VCF contest, hasn’t turned up to collect his prize. The fascist in me has decided that he has lost his chance and the winner is now Angel. Congratulations, there’s nothing wrong with second place.

 

 R.E.M. - "Beat A Drum" [4:21m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

The whole two job things is great, in theory. That was, until I walked out of the house yesterday morning. He followed me to the door with an expression of hopeful confusion and just wrecked me for the morning.

Working two jobs with a long commute, there will likely be days that I go to work before Zach gets up (today, for example) and days that I get home after he’s gone to bed. This wasn’t part of the plan. But it’s for a finite period of time and hopefully allows me to have more time with the boy, in the long run.

I can’t abide anymore Eagles, so rather than their long run, how about Emmylou’s (courtesy of Steve Earle) ”Goodbye”.

 

 Emmylou Harris - "Goodbye" [4:53m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download