Bøger af Moon Unit Zappa

The saying goes that "God only gives you what you can handle." Well God didn't grow up in my atheist, Wiccan, fame-laden, oversexed, teetotalling, drug-free, cloistered, chaotic, non-communicative, workaholic, feral-feeling house.'For Moon Unit, daughter of musician Frank Zappa and his 'manager', Gail, processing a life so unique, so punctuated by the whims of creative urges, the tastes of popular culture and the calculus of celebrity, has at times been eviscerating. But it is her deep sense of humour and unshakeable humility that keeps her - and this memoir - pinned to the ground.A child-star at age 14 after her accidental international hit single (recorded with her father), 'Valley Girl', turned her into a reluctant celebrity, Moon Unit Zappa's life has been utterly extraordinary from her birth in 1967 into a family that was already blessed/cursed as music royalty thanks to the acknowledged genius of Frank. But what are the consequences of growing up in a family who spend most of their time naked arguing about sexual/extra-marital liaisons and practising white magic in a free-for-all state of nonconformist, virtuoso abandon?Earth to Moon is a reckoning with self-esteem, the ghosts of the past and a mother and a father who, in the process of leaving their mark upon on the world, scarred their first daughter on home soil. Brutally self-deprecating and funny as hell, it belies a rose-tinted perspective on the 70s and 80s west coast American scene, from within the belly of the beast of the rock and roll world.

A wildly creative, honest and funny account of an LA childhood growing up as the first daughter in the wildly unconventional and dysfunctional Zappa family

From daughter of musical visionary Frank Zappa, Moon Unit Zappa, comes a memoir of growing up in her unconventional household in 1970s Los Angeles, coming of age as part of the MTV generation in the 1980s as the "Valley Girl," and finding herself after losing her father, then her mother, and the fracturing of her longest relationships. I got my first journal when I was five, for Christmas, then every year after I'd get a new one. They were hardbound in black leather with gold embellishments on the cover and along the paper edges. So fancy. These books felt important. I believed I had a responsibility to do excellent work in them, to match their external beauty and honor the dead trees I held in my hands, a concept my mother had recently illuminated along with explaining hamburgers were deceased cows. Plus, the diaries were from Gail and Frank, my mother and my father, with the inscription to me in his handwriting, so I put undue pressure on myself to turn these blank nothings into weighty somethings, as I saw my idol dad doing on his large, butter-colored music paper. When I wasn't writing short stories about my camels T'mershi Duween and Sinini, or about aliens or ballerinas or nuns, or alien ballerina nuns, I'd report on the happenings in the house or the world at large. I was political and wrote a letter to President Ford to get him to stop men from clubbing baby harp seals. I was ambitious and practiced signing my autograph in various handwriting styles. I was complimentary and wrote a letter to Tina Turner to let her know she is almost as good a dancer as me. I was boy crazy for Shawn Cassidy and wrote his name everywhere, followed by pages of scrawling my new name "Moon Unit Cassidy" in loopy cursive. I used my journals like a secret best friend I could tell anything to: "I'm sad. I wish my dad would take me with him to Europe." When I still lived at home and had no privacy, I'd write in code about really secret stuff so I had somewhere safe to be the real me, to vent about my feelings with impunity.As time went on, I loosened the reins on my dad-comparing and perfectionism in my journals. And in life. I had no choice. Rightly or wrongly, I believed I would never be as good as my dad, so I had to learn to live with plain old me. For Moon Unit Zappa, processing a life so unique, so punctuated by the whims of creative genius, the tastes of popular culture, the calculus of celebrity and the nature of fractured love has at times been eviscerating, at others, illuminating. Yes, this is a book about growing up in the shadows of Frank Zappa, in a sexually free, but also dysfunctional world in 1970s LA. And as we careen into the 1980s, the style and the music and the tone changes--but Moon remains the constant, trying to find herself in a very confusing, everchanging equation--that of her family and the relationship with fame.It is Moon's deep sense of humor and humility that keeps her grounded, and keeps this memoir pinned to the ground. Earth to Moon is a creative, colorful, and wonderful lesson in growing into oneself.

Tofu casseroles, communes, clothing-optional kindergarten, antiwar protests - these are just a few of the hallmarks of a counterculture childhood. What became of kids who had been denied meat, exposed to free love, and given nouns for names? In Wild Child, daughters of the hippie generation speak about the legacy of their childhoods. The writers present a rearview mirror to contemporary culture; with an eye on the past they remind us that there is more than one path through the present. Contributors include Lisa Michaels (Split) and Ariel Gore (Hip Mama).