The November issue of Esquire Magazine, with Kate Beckinsale on the cover, is on stands now, and I bought a copy yesterday. Page 138 has a “What I’ve Learned” feature from Joan, and it’s definitely worth buying. The picture accompanying the article is BEAUTIFUL. (I would scan a portion of it to give you a teaser, but I haven’t seen the cord for my scanner in two years. Sorry.) The feature lists 27 direct quotes from Joan that detail what she’s learned in her life. Some made me think, some made me laugh, some made me sad, and some made me say “WTF?”
Here are some of my favorites. The comments in brackets are mine:
Pop music is not a threatening style of music. It’s music that says, Take me for what you will. Rock ‘n’ roll says, You’re mine, motherfucker. [Yes, we are, Joan.]
Don’t be afraid. Because you’re going to be afraid. But remember when you become afraid, just don’t be afraid. [Ummm, okay? I’m going to get this crocheted on a tapestry and hang it on my wall next to my framed “Footprints” poem.]
They’ve turned the word rock into nothing. It’s a meaningless word. “It rocks.” “That food rocks.” “She’s rocking in that outfit.” They’ve taken the word and stripped it of all its menace, of all its dirt, of all its sex. [“Joan Jett rocks!” I could be crazy, but that one still sounds rather sexy to me.]
If you’re a woman who doesn’t wear a dress, you are gonna take shit. If you’re a woman who doesn’t wear a dress and shaves her head, forget about it. [I think bald girls who DO wear dresses take just as much shit, Joan. We’ve all been brainwashed by Paul Mitchell and Vidal Sassoon. Sad, but true.]
I like the way black looks. I think I look better in darker clothes. And maybe the fact that I wear black so much makes me more aware of putting people at ease. The black is sort of the bad-guy guise, so I work overtime to make people comfortable. [You succeed in making us comfortable, but don’t ever doubt how great you look in WHITE and RED. Little Liar video, anyone?]
I don’t Google myself. Never read message boards, either, because that’s even more dangerous. [Thank goodness! Joan would have a stroke if she ever saw this site…]
And finally:
There’s this thing that happens when a guitar chord is struck a certain way—it slightly bends out of tune and then goes back into tune. And there’s a connection from that sound right through your crotch, right up into your heart. [Amen.]
Born to be Jetthead 