Hola Darling Ones,

Every month I vow to work on this post throughout the month so my eyes & Floppy Scoop don’t eet pooped out from all the typing and reading. Every month I do not do that. But hope springs eternal, so maybe next month?

Matthew Sweet Recovers from Stroke at Madonna

I’ve watched this video of Sweet’s stroke recovery process about 12 times since my friend Robin shared it with me. Each time I get a little shaky and anxious and then tears shoot from eyes. It’s cathartic.

I see a lot of my experience in his. The slight shake of his head as he speaks is the same shake my head does. The tremor is his left hand is similar to the one in my right. The inability to walk more than a few feet, same! When I was doing weekly OT/PT I didn’t get to use a cool robotic arm, and there was zero drawing with markers. Instead, my OT had me typing and writing, because that’s what writers do.

This is a good watch if you’re curious about what stroke recovery is like.

The Floor

Sister #2 dropped her appreciation for the Rob Lowe-hosted gameshow into the family chat telling us it was a nice balance for all the murder shows she usually watches.

While I usually ignore most TV suggestions for everyone (i’m bad at watching TV), Sister #4 and I gave it shot when she was here for dinner one night.

Darling Ones, I love it because it’s a trivia gameshow you have to watch and pay attention to. This means you can’t doomscroll or practice Spanish or crochet while it’s on. I mean you could, but you’d miss the point. Contestants, who get to pick their area of expertise, have to identify things by picture or missing word. Since I’m an arrogant prick, I have to watch to prove I know more than they do.

It is a delight to just focus on one single thing without my brain weasels involved. It is the most relaxing 20-45 minutes (depending on my attention span) of my day.

I also like it because it makes me ponder what my expert category would be. My first choice was “Bob’s Burgers” but after watching men continuously fail because they don’t recognize women rappers, athletes, CEOs, actors, etc., I’d probably go with Female Indie Singers and then rule that floor.

The Harder I Fight the More I Love You by Neko Case

Holy buckets did I love this memoir. So much so that’s I’m gonna have to revisit my Top 10 Nonfiction Music Books from 2021.

Before cracking the book I knew Case was an excellent songwriter, I’ve been a fan of eons. However, great songs don’t always translate into great memoirs (sorry Bob Mould, Pete Townshend, Kathleen Hanna, etc.), Case’s memoir is great. It’s emotionally honest, interesting, and unsparing. It focuses a lot on her early years growing up in poverty and it’s rough to read at times, but you can see the genisus of some her songs in the stories she shares, and that is the best.

Greek Yogurt Bagels

As previously mentioned I care about carbs & protein now. One of the ways I’ve cramming more protein into my gob is by making Greek Yogurt Bagels for my daily breakfast sandwich. They are pretty good. I’ve made them twice and the second time they were even better (perhaps I kneaded them more?). If you care about carbs and bagels, give them a short. I’m hesitant to share any recipe from a site barfily called “skinnytaste,” but it’s the recipe I follow.

What have you been digging, Darling Ones? I’m ever-so curious.

Appreciatively yours,
Jodi

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Dear Darling Ones,

Matthew Sweet updated his GoFundMe, and much like he has for the last 30+ years of my life he is expressing my feelings in ways I cannot.

He said about his stroke:

As I learned to walk, bathe, strengthen my legs, learn what hard work really was, I cried many times at my terrible fate and yet I also was so thankful for the fate I had in life, because it was a wonderful fate, and I was so lucky and found everything I wanted again and again and again. Not too many people I suppose can say that. But you have taught me what care is. Caring about others, caring about what can be done, caring about what happens. In a way, I never thought anything mattered but caring does matter and of that I now am very aware.
~Matthew Sweet

Me too, Matthew. I am one of the people who can say that.

Much like living with the repercussions of a stroke, the update is heartbreaking and hopeful. Despite the brain damage, my brain has never been better at comfortably holding to diamaterically opposed ideas at once.

The stroke was awful, but realizing how much I’m care for is amazing. Being suddenly disabled is the worst, but I’m so lucky to be alive to experience it.

The part about realizations in his update really hit home, because I’m still grappling with my own realizations. He writes, “I’ve lived through the day where I realized I may never play guitar again, I’ve lived through the day where I realized I may never draw a straight line again or enjoy the pasttime that developed over just the last year of my life.”

We all live through days where we do something for the last time and often don’t realize it in the moment. When you’ve had a stroke you recognize those realizations in real time, which may make them more painful.

I’ve lived through the day when I realized I may never be able to walk unassisted again or even walk more than a few feet at all. It sucked and continues to suck. I may never have clear, undistorted vision again. I may never be able to read an entire book with my eyes.

The may nevers are endless and yet, I keep adding the may because never seems so permanent and, well, I don’t know for sure.

Never gonna give you up,
Jodi

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Oh Darling Ones,

Today’s one of those bad stroke days. My tremor is horrendous and the right side of my face feels weirder than usual. It’s got the tingly, novocaine wearing off feeling. Maybe it’s more accurate to say it feels like the right side of my face fell asleep and now I got that tingly, pins & needles feeling like it’s waking up. It sucks and when this happened in February, I ran to the ER.

I’m not running to the ER because I know I haven’t had another stroke. I know it’s just my damaged brain acting out because I’ve been thinking about strokes and their repercussions all damn week.

When my phone blew up Tuesday evening I knew there was some bad going down. Nobody had died, but the news broke that Matthew Sweet had suffered a stroke. My friends and family knowing my history of both stokes and Matthew Sweet appreciation rushed to tell me the news.

Fuck.

Since the news broke I’ve developed a dislike for the word “debilitating.” What the fuck does that even mean? According to Merriam-Webster, it means “causing serious impairment of strength or ability to function.” Unhelpful.

Using that definition my stroke was debilitating. For some reason I wanted to knew his exact condition, as though my 30-year love affair with his music coupled with my own medical history means I should be privy to inside information. As though any of this is my business.

And yet, I’ve been wondering was Matthew Sweet better or worse off than I was? How bad was his stroke?

I still have no idea. How bad is bad?

Based only on the amount of money they want to raise and the updates on the GoFundMe my guess is was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad stroke.

To put it in numbers I raised $25K (thank you!) to pay for my stroke. It was $21K for my two-day hospital stay. Thanks to Social Worker Sister #4 she got me on the good poor people insurance pretty quickly and for the most part I only pay for prescriptions and copays now ($1000+ so far this year).

Because I’ve been out of work since I used the extra to help me put off the need to drain my savings and as my savings dwindles I keep my fingers crossed they’ll let me get on the dole.

Today’s Matthew Sweet update shattered me. He has to be in the hospital until December! They have to renovate his house to make a bedroom on the main floor and make the bathroom ADA compliant. He’s starting speech therapy. And gene there’s this:

“Matthew’s goal is not to walk and talk – it [his chart] reads very clearly in black Sharpie, “my goal is to play guitar and sing and make art”. He is very determined and we all can put faith in that!”

Uffda!

Of course I compare it to my situation and thank all of my lucky stars. I got to go home after two days. I never needed speech therapy because that part of my brain was undamaged. I was writing four days after my stroke.

I was so lucky. I am so lucky. I continue to be immeasurably grateful for my good fortune. Even though I shout “MY LIFE IS CRAP” at least once a day over some minor annoyance (usually my fucking walker bumping into something or my Floopy Scoop spilling something) and I’m fortunate for this level of crapiness.

Sad and lucky and always yours,
Jodi

P.S. I’m not running to the ER because of today strokiness because my neurologist said sometimes stress can makes all the stroke things (I need a word for this) worse. And the Matthew Sweet news has stressed me out and really made me focus on my stroke.

O% Fun. For real.

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Darling Ones,

My love of 90s-era Matthew Sweet has flared up recently and boy, has it been an utter delight.

As with 98% of all my musical loves, I happened into Matthew Sweet in a haphazard, backwards way. I didn’t fall in love with the “Girlfriend” video like so many people I know.

I didn’t pay attention to Matthew Sweet until some intern at Zoo Entertainment sent a copy of “Altered Beast” to the college newspaper where I was the Arts Editor (Or Arts Minotaur as I was often called, Or Bitter Arts Goddess, nicknames were big around the newspaper office). Two years later some other intern sent me “100% Fun.”

Still, I’m not entirely sure exactly how or when I fell in love. It was probably one of those slowly then all at once scenarios. I do remember at some point in the spring of 1995, my friend Johnson turned to me and said, “You love this guy so much.”

We were in the bubble, a small, glass encased room in the aforementioned newspaper office.

“What?” I asked him, because I couldn’t hear him over the 73rd repeat of “Sick of Myself.”

“God,” he sighed. “You’ve been listening to him for two years straight.”

I hadn’t really thought about it, but Johnson was not wrong. I loved Matthew Sweet! Still do, though after the 90s when my musical taste really diversified, I didn’t pay as much attention to him as he deserved.

Anyway, I got a Greatest Hits According to Me playlist all ready to share with you. There’s a Spotify version and for those who eschew Spotify, there’s a YouTube playlist.

As with all Greatest Hits According to Me lists it’s helpful for you to remember this is the one right and true list. All others are imposters.

Also, I won’t have something to say about every song because sometimes the only explanation is, “I like it because it is good.”

Someone to Pull the Trigger

There’s a certain kind of 21-year-old who hears this song and is all, “yes, yes, this is the truth and it speaks for me.” I was exactly that kind of nihilistic, jaded kid. Still kinda am. I have listened to this song on repeat for hours after every single romantic heartbreak I have endured since 1993. So many hours. I need someone to pull the trigger, cause there’s a hole in my heart getting bigger. And everything I’ll ever be I’ve been. Indeed. Indeed.

Sick of Myself

While not my favorite Matthew Sweet song (see above), this is by far his best song. It’s sugar-coated power pop deliciousness. And it’s infectious as fuck. Just objectively perfect.

Evangeline

The intro to this one is so enticing he could sing nonsense or made up words and this would still be a great song. But he’s not signing nonsense, he’s singing about wanting a girl who does not want him back.

Girlfriend

Sometimes I wonder if I’d have fallen so hard for Matthew Sweet’s music if I had discovered him through “Girlfriend.” I don’t think so. I’m all for a good love song, and even more so for a good “wanna love me?” song, but I much prefer the “I’ve been decimated by love” songs (See: obsession with Frightened Rabbit).

Devil with the Green Eyes

See above and then add these lyrics: Cause I came up from a dark world, and every love I’ve ever known is dead.

Thought I Knew You

This Moment

When I wrote The Jayhawks’ Greatest Hits According to Me I said I would include the track an artist did on “Sweet Relief: A Benefit for Victoria Williams.” I am not a liar.

Time Capsule

Super Baby

This is one of those songs that causes a physical reaction in me. I wish I had a better knowledge of musical vocabulary. I don’t always know what things are called. Maybe this is a guitar lick? I think it might be the melody. I don’t know but it’s the five or six guitar notes, then it goes high, then it goes low again and on like the third repeat the drums drop in. Holy cow! My body loves that part of the song and then when promise you won’t go far, I want you right where you are part of the chorus kicks in? I feel that right between my legs. Damn.

Where You Get Love

I dig the throwbacky vibe.

Superdeformed

God love Matthew Sweet. It seems like he never met a compilation record he didn’t want to be a part of.

Smog Moon

I like songs that mention the moon.

What Matters

Write Your Own Song

I also like songs about writing songs. See: Stevie Nicks’ “That Made Me Stronger” and Frightened Rabbit’s “I Feel Better.” I should make a playlist of those some time.

Dead Smile

I forgot about about this one until my friend Tony brought it up in a Twitter discussion last week.

Let Me be the One

As I said, the man never met a comp he didn’t want to be apart of. I blame this Carpenters’ cover album for making me think I’d dig Sonic Youth, but in the immortal words of Juno MacGuff, “I bought another Sonic Youth album and it sucks. It’s just noise.”

And Your Bird Can Sing

Suzanna Hoffs + Matthew Sweet = bliss.

Ballad of El Good

It’s not a revolutionary cover, but I love this song as much as I love Matthew Sweet.

That’s enough typing for now. Happy listening,
Jodi

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Dear Darling Ones,

My absolute favorite part of Matthew Sweet’s song “Sick of Myself” comes in at about 3:14 when you think the song is winding down and he says in a kinda growly way, “One more time.” Gah, it just fucking sends me. I’m sure I’ve listened to this song 92,184 times since it was released and every single time that “one more time” comes up my heart gets a little zoomy with happiness, and when I’m singing along I kinda half close my eyes, grin, and shake my head and say it along with him.

This isn’t even my favorite Matthew Sweet song (“Someone to Pull the Trigger”) but my body sure as hell loves the shit out of it. The older I get the more I pay attention to my physical reactions to music.

Anyway, last night The Youths came over for $6 sandwiches from Pig Stuff. The Youths are what I’m calling all my niblings and their romantic partners. For the most part this will mostly be referring to Max & his girlfriend Sonya, since they live in Minnesota and since Sister #3 has cut off us off from the Tibbles.

For the records: The Olds are my parents, Uncle Danny, and any of their various siblings. The Mids are me and my siblings, and well, I just told you who The Youths are.

Maxwell has been super adorable since he moved out. He misses me and Wendell a bunch, which makes me feel important and cared for.

Last night I confessed to The Youths that I had acquired a serious TikTok addiction since I last saw Max (on Sunday). Then I proceeded to pepper the rest of our conversations with “Well, I saw this on TikTok. . . ” Now you will never have to be sad that you can’t hang with me IRL because you’ll know that I’m super annoying and say things like “I saw this on TikTok” with a totally serious face and tone of voice.

Today I continue to procrastinate like a moutherfucker. I’m not entirely sure what my problem is. Maybe I want to work all weekend? Maybe it’s because I have an actual, factual real period and that’s super pissing me off. I’m forty-fucking-eight ain’t no reason I need to continue dealing with the monthlies only now that I’m in perimenopause it’s the randomies. Bleh. Also, it kinda pisses me off that the WordPress or Chrome or whatever spellchecking apparatus is at work in this typing box doesn’t recognize perimenopause as an actual work. Motherfucker? Okay. Tibbles? Sure. But fucking perimenopause?

These kinds of letters are my new thing which I will continue to write until I get bored or distracted or annoyed. As I’ve mentioned before I’m kind of preoccupied with sleeping away into the ether unnoticed, but at least if I write a letter a day my website will know I existed.

Right?

One more time,
Jodi

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