June 4, 2010
Snapshots
-- Finished Shirley Jackson's collected short stories
-- Watched Part 1 of John Woo's 4-hour epic Red Cliff and all I can say is: Holy shitballs. Part 2 hasn't arrived yet and I am dying to get my filthy paws on it. Wow. Don't watch it in its truncated American version. That would be a travesty. It's one of those movies where you can't imagine WHAT could be cut, without serious damage to the story - even though it is so long. There's one CGI shot that bugs me, so far, it's phony, but one thing that bugs me is not enough to throw the baby out with the bathwater. This is an astonishing accomplishment and I haven't even seen Part 2 yet. Tony Leung is THE. MAN. (No surprise there.) More to come. So far, I am blown away by the picture. Must see.
-- My feeling is that Lucy (my niece, 1 year old) now knows who I am, in her lexicon of humanity. She's getting there. To her, I am "she-she", and I do wonder how she is putting it all together in her adorable brain. Somehow I am connected with her parents. But before language, how do we figure it all out? It's beautiful to watch.
-- My brother and I had two three-hour drives recently and all we talked about was books and movies and music. I wish I had tape recorded it. It was an incredible conversation. At the end of the drive, we were like, "So how are you doing in your life? Okay? Things going good?" Typical O'Malley behavior. You walk in the door, and before you even have your coat off, someone asks you, "So ... what are you reading?" I love my family.
-- Working on my script.
-- Recently, the ex-boyfriends have (respectively) been driving me crazy. I'm in actual fights with two of them, which is so tiresome and stupid I don't even want to get into it. I'm glad we're in fights, actually. It's about time. And then there's Michael (he of Kwik Stop fame). Our correspondence isn't constant, that's fine, we've gone years without speaking, but when we do, it is heartfelt and very much appreciated. I dated him for 6 weeks, and yet we are friends for life. I'm grateful. It's hard to remember to be grateful, but I am. We are actors, we are now writers, we are into what the other is doing, we remember who we were, we accept who we are now, and we are excited to see what the other is going to do next.
-- More traveling coming up. Seattle, perhaps. My family trip to New Hampshire.
-- Put together a new bookcase the other day, on the hottest day so far in this muggy awful patch. There was a moment when I thought - oh shit, I need to call in the boys for help on this (after all, it wouldn't be the first time), but I stuck it out, with my tools and my diagram, and put it together successfully, and felt like a very butch rock star when it was all complete. For someone like me, with a library that rivals the Library of Congress, and yet living in a 2 bedroom apartment - the arrangement of books is key. My clothes could be in a pile in the corner, I couldn't give a shit, but if my books are out of order, then I stop knowing who I am. I feel scattered. And so having a bookcase arrangement where I have space to spare, as I do now, places to expand, is hugely calming. I don't mind doubling up on shelves, and placing books on top of other books. I am not precious with my library. But it is nice to know that there actually IS space if I need it.
-- Going to the theatre tonight. Have no idea what I am about to see, and I love that.
-- When will Part 2 of John Woo's Red Cliff arrive? I can't bear it.
-- Speaking of John Woo, I love Face/Off - had a conversation today with my cousin Liam about that movie. Liam called to ask me if there was a specific version of Ulysses he should buy, and if he should get an annotated version. Have I mentioned I love my family? So we talked about Ulysses (Me: "Nah, don't get an annotated version. It's a dumb book. No plot. It's stupid. Just read it for the language. That's what Dad said."), and Alexandre Dumas and the Beatles and our families, and then somehow we segued into John Woo - because, of course, that's what you do when you talk with your cousin. You segue from James Joyce to John Woo. Liam and I were raving about Face/Off. What a RIDICULOUS film. What an EFFECTIVE film. I saw that movie at a small theatre in Greenwich Village (no longer with us, unfortunately) - with my friend Rebecca, and we bought sushi beforehand and brought it in with us, eating with chopsticks as we watched the film. It was that kind of movie theatre. What I love about that movie is that yes, you have incredible action sequences, and a speedboat chase that makes you scream out loud as you watch it, and you have a finale with doves flying around (typical John Woo), and ominous dudes strolling into a church for a showdown, but what it is REALLY about is identity. It has deep themes, Philip K. Dick themes. What is identity? Are we our faces? If I had a different face, would I be a different person? Where does identity come from? What makes us what we are? And yet it's all packaged in this ridiculous and awesome device, where John Travolta is playing Nic Cage and Nic Cage is playing John Travolta, and it's campy (like John Woo movies often can be), but without betraying that deeper subject. I love Face/Off, it's been years since I've seen it, but after talking with Liam today I think I need to own it. And seriously: where is that Postman with Part 2??
March 27, 2010
Snapshots
-- Sometimes I look up from what I am doing and I see Hope across the room staring at me, and there is a look of such coiled contempt in her eyes that I want to run fleeing into the night.
-- And then sometimes I can barely take a step because she is hovering at my feet, purring and rubbing against me. She is giving very mixed messages.
-- Siobhan and Ben came over yesterday afternoon and it was really great to have them here, in my apartment - I rarely have people over - so it was so cool to be able to - well, first of all, now that I have a chair - people can actually sit down. I have enough chairs for my guests, which I just didn't have a month ago. Siobhan is so busy right now, we haven't been able to see each other much at all lately - so it was great to catch up.
-- I feel like I am in a bit of a holding pattern right now - as I wait to hear if such-and-such and so-and-so is going to happen. I have done what I needed to do, and now I just need to wait, on tenterhooks, fingers crossed, hoping for the best. But I'm in an odd limbo-land at the moment and I do not like it.
-- Thinking quite a bit about Jeremy Renner these days - and no, not just "Yum yum, dude is hot" - I have something big I want to write about him - and I know my "thesis", shall we say, just need to back it up with examples. It's been fun.
-- Tonight I'm going to see Mulholland Drive at the 92nd Street Y (the one in Tribeca) and I am quivering with anticipation. In an evening curated by Miriam Bale (whose name has been heard quite a bit these days in the NY film scene, due to her curatorship of the recent "Bluebeard" series at the Anthology Film Archives), the promotion states: "Recently declared the best film of the last decade by Film Comment, Cahiers du cinéma, Reverse Shot and countless other critics polls, Mulholland Dr. needs to be seen again and on film. The rich blacks and lush colors should be seen on celluloid, in the dark, to be seen at all. Mulholland Dr. is also a major work in a new category of "persona swap" films (including Persona, 3 Women and Céline and Julie Go Boating) that film writer and curator Miriam Bale will be examining in an upcoming issue of Film Comment. In this first of a two part presentation, she will suggest that Mulholland Dr. is the first mature work in this group of films; all of the themes—magic, merges, mysteries and sexual tension—come together organically and with great artistry. Bale suggests that the power of the film's appeal comes from its familiarity. It seems as familiar as a forgotten dream, recognizable yet always just out of reach." I can't wait to see it on the big screen again. I place that as the number 1 film of the last decade, bar none.
-- And on Monday, I'm going out to BAM to see Offside, which is playing as part of their Muslim Voices: The Female Perspective series. I've written a lot about Offside (see my review here), and of course recently the director of the film, Jafar Panahi, has been incarcerated in Iran. He is still not out. No news. It's eerily silent, I search the web for snippets of information, but there's nothing. I love Offside, so I'm excited to see it again, but I'm also going to show my support of Panahi, and wonder if there will be any signs of protests - signs for him, speeches, whatever. I just feel I need to be there, regardless.
-- I'm reading about 4 books at the same time now. I can't settle in on just one. This is such a vibrant change from last year, when I couldn't read at all, so I'm really happy about it. I'm in the midst of reading: The Chief: The Life of William Randolph Hearst
-- I'm a little bit in love with Lady Gaga.
March 13, 2010
Snapshots
-- Spent the week in a dreary little motel on the Jersey Shore. Writing.
-- I did not have one conversation all week.
-- Home now. Crazy wind and rain storm outside right now.
-- Hope is so glad to see me that I worry for her emotional stability.
-- Mucho plans for the next couple months. Just saying "yes" to everything. More on this later, when plans become concrete.
-- The last time I saw Lucy she was in Jean's arms, laughing HYSTERICALLY, as Jean ran across the room. I wish I was in a position to see that sight every single day.
-- I have favorite bands, favorite songs, all that - but if I had to pick an all-time favorite song it would be "Runaway", by Del Shannon. I consider it to be a perfect song.
-- Drowning in Tennessee Williams.
-- Love my new laptop. I am so relieved and happy.
-- Had a great time at Keith and Dan's Oscar party with Rachel. And I finally got to meet the famous Self-Styled Siren!!! So fun! We all sat together, and quietly counteracted the testosterone in a humorous and supportive manner. It was so great to put a face to the name, to the exquisite writer that she is. Met a lot of nice people. Including Preston Miller and his lovely wife. I am so looking forward to Preston's new film God's Land (first look here), so I finally got to talk to him about it! Met a lot of people that I "know" by name only, from their film criticism. Fun!
-- Loving the new Candybutchers album.
-- Lots of great stuff going on out at BAM this month. Trying to go to as much as possible.
-- DYING to read The Poisoner's Handbook: Murder and the Birth of Forensic Medicine in Jazz Age New York
-- Going to see The Ghost Writer tomorrow. Can't wait.
-- Came home to a FedExed package from my cousin Mike. He is determined to keep me inspired. Tears in my eyes. He sent me the boxed set of all of the Paris Review Interviews
-- Speaking of cousin Mike, I'm kind of digging the Glee cast's version of Amy Winehouse's "Rehab". It really kicks. The original kicks, too - but it's interesting to hear a whole chorus singing those words. It's good.
-- Working on a big post about Jeremy Renner in The Hurt Locker. Yeah. It's time.
January 30, 2010
Snapshots
-- I got sucked into The Adventures of Mark Twain almost against my will. It has a ham-hocked script that rushes through the events of Twain's life (his wife, "You are an eternal boy ... why don't you write about boyhood?", etc.) - but Fredric March is a favorite of mine, and I had never seen it, and I found myself blubbering like a MANIAC at the end when he was honored at Oxford. March's face! Yes, uncanny resemblance to Twain, but it was the look in his eyes that really put me over the damn edge. Deep true acting can forgive even the most obvious of scripts.
-- It was so brutally cold yesterday that my windshield wiper fluid froze into little bursting stars the second it hit the windshield. Today, the ocean around the jetties is frozen. Solid ice.
-- We had two days of massive wind, roaring and throttling the house like a wild animal. It was more like a big presence, taking deep breaths, sudden pauses, and then roaring forward again. The wind felt TALL. It was wide, yes, but it was tall, too.
-- Today not so windy, but I am going to go exploring along the jetties, so I can at least witness a partly frozen ocean.
-- Watched Place in the Sun early in my time out here - of course I've seen it before - but the character of George got me to thinking about the Yo-Yo from last year. He is, essentially, empty, something broke a long time ago, and so he looks to others to fill him up. With opinions, feelings, desires, whatever - with life. He will be brutal about this, and unthinking, because it doesn't come from a place of consciousness. It comes from a place of need. He will get this or that need fulfilled, but if someone gets too close, too intimate, then that person must be discarded, because on closer inspection what seemed to be openness and beauty and connection will be revealed as yawning nothingness. What he has been presenting to the woman is a mirror, not a self. He looks to others on how to behave, how to be. And so he knows that for him, the jig will always be up. He will always have to move on. Cutting his losses. I had never quite put it into the context of Montgomery Clift in Place in the Sun before, that terrifying mix of sincerity and greed. If you knew one side, you would swear that was all there is. But just ask Shelley Winters about that other side. Oh, but you can't, can you? Girl is at the bottom of the damn lake. People like that always leave casualties, whether actually dead or no. It is an imperative.
-- Went up to the little Block Island airport last night as the sun was setting and the moon was rising (at the same time). It was honestly too cold to be outside for long, but the scene - still and expectant - in the long long shadows of that time of day - was truly something else. The little planes sitting on the empty fields, the moon was full (or almost) and picking up the light of the setting sun, and nobody was around. The airport is near my house so I do see the planes lining up for landings, and it's such an isolated windy spot that sunrise or sunset is definitely the time to visit.
-- The gas station is here has very odd and specific and limited hours. I needed to get gas today and thought to myself, "I should call the gas station and see what their hours are ..." That night, I walked to the only restaurant open on the island, a couple of doors up from my place, on a dark country street, to get some takeout. I sat there, waiting, and it was so cold out, freezing really, it took me 20 minutes to warm up. And sitting right next to me, waiting for her food, was the woman who works at the gas station. So I asked her what the hours were, she told me, and our nights moved on. Just thought that was kind of funny and indicative of what happens when you live an island whose population is so small during the winter.
-- Oh, North Light, how will I live without you?
January 27, 2010
Island snapshots
-- "He had a way of making a simple walk down a country lane into a Grand Adventure." -- Patricia Flynn, on her husband Errol's acting ability
-- Thomas Hardy bums me out, man. But I love him. Also, when reading the poems he wrote about the death of his first wife, if all you knew were the poems then you would think this was one of the most romantic successful marriages of all time, when by all accounts it was a disaster. After her death, Hardy found a notebook where she had written a screed called something like, "Everything I Cannot Stand About My Husband", obviously meant to be found by him after her death. They were miserable. But something about her death rocked him to his core, and his poems to her following her passing ache with feeling and loss. They are amazing. His anger at God is palpable, although it's more than that. He found God to be a silly thing, a useless entity really. He was not a believer in any way, shape or form, and he wrote about it quite a lot. His poems to and about God are also incredible. But still: very somber reading. I enjoy it a lot. Always have liked his poetry quite a bit.
-- It is nearly impossible to say about a day out here, "What a nice sunny day", or "What a rainy day". It always changes. Yesterday I woke up to rain after a crazy night of howling wind. It rained the whole morning in a way that made you think it would never stop. It is my favorite kind of weather. Then it cleared up mid-morning, and I cavorted about around the Island, walking up and down random beaches, watching the long long breakers rolling in from the open ocean, the foam being whipped off the tops of the waves by the strong wind and blown backwards. Huge white clouds piled up to the north, seemingly benign, but suddenly, they were upon us. It was as though the light was snuffed from the sky. It began to rain, and there were also some hailstones falling as I raced to my car. The light and shadow that afternoon were phenomenal, as rain and sun struggled for dominance, with big lines of clouds in the sky, showing clear blue sky beneath. Gorgeous. I love how the weather changes. Storm, sun, storm, sun. It is the most like my own natural rhythm. I find it comforting.
-- Anthony Hopkins asked Katharine Hepburn while they were filming Lion in Winter, "What is star quality?" She replied, "I don't know if it's a kind of energy or a kind of electricity - I don't know what it is, but I do know I've got it."
-- Watched Fifth Ave. Girl early this morning and realized, yet again, what a good actress Ginger Rogers is. She is completely understated here, almost sad, yet nobody's fool. Not your typical wise-cracking dame, either - this is a girl who understands reality, understands she needs to do what she has to do, but there's a sadness beneath all of it. As though if only it were given the chance, a soft romanticism could blossom. I loved the crazy family, the ditzy heiress falling in love with the mechanic who spouts his anger at capitalists and his love for the proletariat and then turns around and opens his own garage (hahaha) - the snotty suspicious brother - the loony mother ... but in the center of it all sits Ginger Rogers, in a plain black suit, sitting on a park bench, eating an apple, and staring at the world around her with low expectations of it ... and that makes her sad. Not bitter, but sad. She's fantastic.
-- I wonder what the seals are doing right now. Sunning on the rocks on the west side, maybe? It's a nice day. So far.
January 26, 2010
Snapshots with Wilde bookends
-- "Actors are so fortunate. They can choose whether they will appear in tragedy or comedy ... But in real life it is different. Most men and women are forced to perform parts for which they have no qualifications." -- Oscar Wilde
-- Siobhan, Ben and I saw a ton of seals swimming around by the north point of the island. They would bob their big snouts up out of the water, very close to shore, and appear to stare straight at us, quizzically, like: "What the hell are you people doing out here?" The seals were everywhere. It was so so awesome.
-- The Rockefeller book is fantastic. Encyclopedic, huge scope. This is no surprise. After all, I have read Ron Chernow's magnificent biography of Alexander Hamilton. I am a huge huge fan.
-- Two days of rain. Today is beautiful. I am so excited that I get to go OUTSIDE, I'm not sure where to go first.
-- Made a list of everything I need to do when I come back home and started having a panic attack. No more of THAT.
-- The wind howled about my house last night like shrieking fully alive beast. I went to bed at around 9 p.m., my new schedule, which I am enjoying very much. I am going to try to keep it up.
-- Food is outrageously expensive out here and it makes me long for the cheap world of Manhattan, which just goes to show you the situation.
-- This morning, before the sun came up, the rain was still pouring down. The porch furniture remained dry, so I sat out there, with my coffee, in the dark, soaking up the sounds and smells. I look at the bright blue sky now and can't believe it's the same day.
-- "How much truer Imagination is than Observation." -- Oscar Wilde
January 23, 2010
Some Island snapshots
-- "I cannot imagine how a casual reference to Suetonius and Petronius Arbiter can be construed into evidence of a desire to impress by an assumption of superior knowledge. I should fancy that the most ordinary of scholars is perfectly well acquainted with the Lives of the Caesars and with The Satyricon. The Lives of the Caesars, at any rate, forms part of the curriculum at Oxford for those who take the Honour School of Literae Humaniores; and as for The Satyricon, it is popular even among passmen, though I suppose they have to read it in translations." -- Oscar Wilde, responding to a critic who balked at all of the literary references in Dorian Gray
-- Standing on the jetty, watching the huge long breakers roll in, crashing repeatedly on the rocks. I heard the roar from my front porch this morning. I stood out there until I was drenched in spray, and then figured I'd better beat it before I was submerged.
-- Christopher Walken on Gene Kelly for Turner Classic Movies: "People might think that dancers are always on the beat. A good dancer is always ahead of the beat. They make the music happen."
-- Speaking of Christopher Walken, he is out here right now. I keep my eyes peeled for him.
-- "I love black and white cinema; I feel as if I discovered it." -- Andrei Tarkovsky
-- In a Lonely Place was on TV early this morning. It's one of my favorite movies and certainly Bogart's best performance. He is absolutely tortured.
-- The name of the world's first oil tanker (set up by the Nobel family) was Zoroaster.
-- Dovetail between my reading of Rockefeller's life and the book I read last year about "young Stalin". Stalin had many years as a gangster in Baku, which was a primary rival of Rockefeller's in the oil biz, and the Rothschilds, and all that. Baku has been one of my fascinations for eons, and it's very cool to hear about what it was like in the 1800s.
-- Frank Capra gets on my nerves sometimes.
-- Yesterday there was frost on the grass. A sudden plunge in temperature after a couple days of mildness.
-- CRAZY ocean yesterday. Drove out to the North Light at dusk and the scene - crashing thrashing ocean as far as the eye could see - with the little light on the small ladder near the point (I guess the lighthouse isn't sufficient because it isn't right on the tip of those treacherous rocks - they need a light closer to the actual point) flashing around in flares. Everything was deep blue and white, and the waves were relentless and enormous.
-- Read a lot of Gerard Manley Hopkins' stuff yesterday, which I believe contributed to my epic dreams last night, starring the person who introduced me to his stuff. Damn you, Hopkins! But Hopkins is one of the greatest there is, one of the poets of my heart - he makes up words, he puts them together - but never obscures the meaning. The individuality of his language is the emotional entryway into his work. His emotional punctuation and hyphenated words reminds me very much of Keri Hulme's The Bone People, a strange connection I suppose - but her preface to her novel is all about language and how she had to basically train the copyeditors who worked on her manuscript NOT to correct her work, unless there was a spelling error. Everything had to go by her first. She felt that there is a huge difference between "blue-black" and "blueblack" - it calls up a different response in the reader - and Hopkins' stuff to me seems equally as individual. "dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon", "blue-bleak embers", "fathers-forth" - Now that last one is interesting. Something in the poem "fathers forth" - but it certainly feels different with that hyphen there. The meaning is connected not only to the sound but to the LOOK of the words. "selfwrung, selfstrung, sheath- and shelterless." Some of this experimentation with sound predicts the Beat poets in the 1950s. Hopkins was way ahead of his time.
-- I love Robert Montgomery so much.
-- The commercials on Lifetime are alllll about digestion and poop.
-- I never ever want to hear the phrase "I can't make any promises ..." ever again. Come on, make a promise. Even if you end up not keeping it, see what it feels like to make a goddamn promise. A red flag.
-- Watched the ridiculous The Fountainhead, and found myself thinking so much about Patricia Neal (it was her birthday this week), and all of the tragic elements of her life. Watching her and Cooper onscreen, I thought of her heartwrenching and beautiful autobiography and the story of their love affair, and how she never stopped loving him, until he died. There's a cautionary tale there, and I've been thinking about it a lot. In a way, that's what my script is about, and what I have been working on. Can we choose the narrative of our lives? Not really - events are events - but the interpretation is up to us. Way easier said than done. Much of the marks left on us date from before the time we might have figured all of this out. The first cut is the deepest.
-- Too funny: I have found over 30 pieces of beach glass in my time out here. That first one seemed so miraculous, now I'm so over it, and just casually toss new pieces on the pile when I come home.
-- Heaven Knows Mr. Allison was on again. I was flipping through the channels - and, literary conceit, landed upon it - RIGHT AT THE HOT MOMENT in the fake cave that I had missed when the electricity came out. What are the odds. I didn't have to bide my time, watching the whole thing again - I came upon the scene, her lying shivering on the floor in her habit, and got to watch the whole thing. It's very erotic.
-- In the graveyard, there is a stone for a 16 year old girl named Annie, who died in the late 1800s, and at the bottom is engraved: "Darling, how we miss thee." The simplicity of that statement, the feeling behind it, really got to me. To me, that's all that needs to be said. Darling, how we miss thee.
-- Still obsessed by generosity and how it operates in my life. I have a tally sheet. I check things off - Me generous, Him generous, Me generous, Him generous. Tit for tat. Keeping track. So far, it has kept the madness at bay, although keeping a TALLY SHEET is mad in and of itself. Oh well. It all makes sense to me, and it feels right.
-- Speaking of generosity, a quote from T.S. Eliot jumped out at me the other day:
Think now
She gives when our attention is distracted
And what she gives, gives with such supple confusions
That the giving famishes the craving.
"The giving famishes the craving". I don't think 10 minutes have gone by since I read that that I have not thought about it.
-- Getting ready to start Evelyn Waugh's Brideshead Revisited. I am a huge Waugh fan, but I have never read that one.
-- Hope is OBSESSED with a seagull feather I brought home. She is tormented by its very existence.
-- I go out to sit on the porch with my book and my coffee, in the cold morning sunlight, and Hope sits on the windowsill staring out at me. I want to tell her to get a life, but then I remember, oh wait. This IS her life.
-- "the moon rattles like a fragment of angry candy" - e.e. cummings
-- "Why must you write 'intensive' here? 'Intense' is the right word. You should read Fowler's Modern English Usage in the use of the two words." -- Winston Churchill to his director of military intelligence while looking over plans for the invasion of Normandy. I love that even at such a tense time, incorrect grammar annoyed him. That's my boy.
-- This kills me. Oscar Wilde was imprisoned for sodomy. His library and possessions were put up for sale. He suffered in prison, yes, from hard labor, but also because he had nothing to read. His friends (the ones who stuck with him) tried to buy his books back from the people who bought them at auction - and eventually there was a milder warden at the prison who asked if Mr. Wilde could write out a list of the books he would like, and he would see what he could do. Friends began to send books to the prison. The nice warden would bring them to Wilde's cell, and Wilde would break down in tears at the sight. And, in his file, there is a letter from an "Irishwoman" - anonymous - no name - and here is the letter she wrote to the prison in 1895. It brings tears to my eyes, and makes me feel that yes, there is good, there is mercy on this planet. Listen:
Please give Mr. Wilde the book. I have never ever seen him but it must indeed be a hard heart utterly unacquainted with God's love that does not bleed for such a shipwrecked life ... I feel this book which I send, may be helpful. Faithfully yours, an Irishwoman.
Isn't that something else. Sadly, there is no record of what book she sent to "Mr. Wilde", but across the century, I salute this anonymous Irishwoman as someone who represents the best in all of us.
-- I tried to sit down and read a bunch of Emily Dickinson poems, and found she freaked me out too much. I really can only deal with her one poem at a time. She's just too huge, too brutal, too scary.
-- Andrei Tarkovsky, 1979 interview:
In Andrei Rublev, there was a scene that might have been from Mizoguchi, the great departed Japanese director. I wasn't aware of it until it was projected. It's the one where the Russian prince gallops across the countryside on a white horse, and the Tatar is on a black horse. The quality of the image in black and white, the landscape, the opacity of the overcast sky, had a strange resemblance to an ink-drawn Chinese landscape.
It's one of my favorite images in that film full of amazing images:
January 21, 2010
Island Snapshots
-- Big storm. Crashing surf. Mountains of spray. Wind so loud it literally shrieked.
-- Crazy bright stars.
-- Finished the novel Beware of Pity, by Stefan Zweig. Can't believe it is not more well-known. The fall of Empires is in it. The crackup of the world in World War I. The disintegration of certainty. The disorientation of the modern world. Not to mention an excavation of the human mind, and the emotion known as "pity". Phenomenal and harrowing book.
-- Also reading T.S. Eliot. Guess I am into disintegration and moral apocalypse.
-- Great weekend with Jean, Pat and Lucy. Pat's great-grandfather was the lighthouse keeper out here back in the day, so we took a little visit. Also, just learned that in Roger Williams' first merry band of rebels that came to what is now "Rhode Island", one of Pat's ancestors was in that first group.
-- I have been taking baths. Every day. Hope sits at the edge of the tub, meowing insistently. It disturbs her greatly, my behavior. She cannot understand it. It truly WORRIES her.
-- Percolating with ideas. I needed the mental space to percolate.
-- The weather changes so quickly out here. Sunny day to black storm clouds in a matter of 5 minutes. I go down and sit on the jetty and watch the waves crash up onto it. It's all very French Lieutenant's Woman.
-- Found my favorite beach. It is isolated. I can see the lighthouse (I believe) in Montauk across the water, wavering like a mirage. I get a coffee to go at the Depot, and drive down there in the early morning. No one is ever there. A beautiful beach.
January 15, 2010
On the island
-- An orgy of reading. Recuperative. I am feeling less shattered than I have. But I hesitate to even say such things. They anger the gods.
-- Mitchell, Meghan and Luisa came out for the day and it was seriously one for the books. I had all these plans ("let's go look at lighthouses!") and then all we did was make Bloody Marys at my house and talk and laugh. Oh, and also blast Michael Jackson and dance around my kitchen. Luisa wielded a mop and went downstairs to inspect the cellar and get rid of cobwebs. She loves cellars. She was holding a whiskey in one hand and a mop in the other. She re-emerged with a small statue of ... well, he defies description. He's a hippie. He has long hair, beads, and is making the peace sign. She found it down there. We then proceeded to place him all over the house (and the lawn) and take pictures of him in various landscapes. Crying with laughter. Magic day.
-- I saw a standoff on my front lawn between a barking dog and a freaked-out deer. They stood staring at each other, the dog racing around barking at it. Then, the deer charged the dog. (I saw a similar standoff at Yellowstone once between a wounded deer and a small wolf - it was incredible). The dog bounded backwards in alarm and then the deer bounded off into the snow.
-- Mum came out for the night and we took some great hikes (one out by the North Light), and then we found the trail that goes along the big white cliffs that encircle the north side of the island. The views were amazing. There was nothing between us and the abyss. And there's still snow everywhere here, so the landscape: snow, sandy cliffs, and ocean - was startling to the extreme. Then we came home and had dinner and watched Searching for Bobby Fischer. Mum found a chess set at the house and taught me how to play. For some reason, I never learned. Allison (a killer chess player) tried to teach me a couple years ago but it didn't stick. Mum teaching me how each chess piece moved was so funny. "This guy ... goes like this: two and one - like an L." "This guy can go like THIS ..." But my favorite was her delineation between the King and the Queen. "The Queen can go any which way, in any direction, as far as she likes. And the King? .... Is a LOSER." So every time either one of us would make our King move, one square to the right, left, whatever, we would start laughing. I imagined a big gluttonous slobbery half-wit king, unwilling to put down his greasy drumstick in order to save himself with rapid dispatch. The Queen, meanwhile, flies about the board. It was really fun. Mum won, but I didn't do too badly myself.
-- I have been reading poetry. A lot of Walt Whitman. I love him. Every time I read the poem about the Brooklyn Ferry, it seems like a new poem. It lives and breathes, and I feel it speaking directly to me, and that, to me, seems Whitman's point. He is squinting into the future. For me. It is such a poem of America. Of New York. Intensely moving to me.
And then there is this:
What is commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest, is Me.
Me going in for my chances, spending for vast returns,
Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that will take me,
Not asking the sky to come down to my good will,
Scattering it freely forever.
-- I have been taking long walks every day, choosing different sections of the island to explore. Mum and I found some good new spots.
-- I go to bed at around 9 p.m. and wake up at 5 a.m. One of my favorite things to do is to make my coffee, in the pitch-black, and go out to sit on the front porch, before dawn.
-- The other night, the temperature dropped. It had been a sunny almost mild day, but the weather changes so quickly out here. I drove up to the Southeast Lighthouse because I wanted to see what was going on. It was suddenly freezing with a bitter wind. There was some snow falling. A line of clouds lay over the ocean, with a blazing streak of sunset showing through, right above the waterline. But those clouds were low and thick. And the light up in the tower was going, reflecting off the giant mirrors. So mystical, but also so practical. A message to those out there on the sea: Beware. We are near. Beware. I stood on the giant lawn, in the quickly gathering dusk, watching that light flash, go dark, flash, go dark ... until it was finally too cold, even for a hearty girl like myself. Beauty!!
-- Found a bunch of prehistoric-looking rocks today peeking up from under the ocean. At the level of the tide when I found them, it looked like the humps of the Lochness Monster. Some prehistoric beast - struggling to be born? I've got Yeats on the brain too.
-- I watched Comrade X the other night and laughed so loudly during the last half hour of the film that I frightened Hope. Hedy Lemarr is HYSTERICAL as the humorous Communist girl. "There is pilot, then co-pilot, then co-co-pilot, then co-co-co-pilot." Clark Gable barks, "Stop stuttering." It is my new favorite movie.
January 7, 2010
On the island
-- There is only one four-way intersection on the island. No stoplights. The intersection is referred to one and all as "The Four Corners." "Excuse me, can you tell me where the bank is?" "The Four Corners." "Got it."
-- I spent the morning wandering around the Southeast Lighthouse, which is so beautiful and so intense I almost felt like I was mainlining some awesome drug of choice. This is the lighthouse that was moved, about a decade ago, because the cliffs were crumbling beneath it. It is a huge beautiful brick structure, with the glimmering mirrored lighthouse tower fat and squat. There was nobody about this morning, a sunny crisp morning, and the ocean was blindingly bright, streatching off in all directions. What can I say. I'm from the Ocean State. It is the landscape of my dreams, my comfort, where I want to always be. It's an old lighthouse, a national landmark, and I had a really good private time there this morning.
-- I am reading Titan, by Ron Chernow (whom I will love forever for his Alexander Hamilton book) - Titan is his book on John D. Rockefeller, and, as always, Chernow's writing is elegant, evocative, and highly intelligent. John D. Rockefeller is emerging before my eyes. He hasn't even gotten into the oil business yet. He's just a young man. It's a huge book, daunting really, but I am very glad I have started it. I am learning a lot - not just about him, but of the economy at that time.
-- I have been writing in a journal again. It makes me feel a bit silly, like a lovesick schoolkid, but it has been good for me. It's certainly exercising the writing muscles again. Which, I suppose if you read my blog may seem ridiculous - she needs to exercise? But I do, I really do. Writing down long passionate entries about my "feelings" have been pretty much forbidden for the last 3 or 4 years. Nothing much to write about. But I am forcing myself to, and I can feel ideas for other things start to bubble up.
-- I am now pretty much in love with Loretta Young, in her pre-Code movies. It was her birthday yesterday, I believe, and TCM had a marathon. I am not as wacky about later Loretta Young, although she is always lovely and natural - but her early 1930s stuff cannot be beat. Wow.
-- Also reading a book of interviews with Roman Polanski (what a mind), and also the letters of Maud Gonne and WB Yeats. Dear Maud, you are a WACKO, but I love you anyway.
-- Trying to read again. Creating the mental space for it again, despite how ragged everything has felt over the last year - a sort of scattering of my focus.
-- My little house is so cute. There's even a roll-top desk. And a front porch. I love my room too. I am sleeping like the DEAD. Going to bed early, waking up early.
-- I arrived out here in the middle of the big storm we just had. The ferry ride was rough (although I am sure it could have been rougher) - the boat climbing up the waves, then climbing down into the holes left by the waves, the spray flying over the bow. It was awesome and beautiful. That ferry boat. My, she is yar.
-- Walking on the beach.
-- Walking around a frozen pond at sunset, watching the big dunes waving in the freezing night wind off to the north.
-- I am going to go to the Southeast Light every day. I'll never get enough of that spot.
December 13, 2009
Chicago Snapshots
-- Walking into Mitchell's apartment in Chicago and seeing Rachel sitting there, with her coffee, both their laptops out - is my idea of heaven.
-- My packing strategy for this trip. "I brought pajamas and a skirt. That's about it."
-- Mitchell on Peter Allen: "He is the gayest man ... on the planet. He makes me look like Rambo."
-- There is a big Second City extravaganza going on here right now, due to it being the 50th anniversary of Second City (is that possible?) - which is why "the Rachels" are here (as we refer to them) - Hamilton and Dratch - and everyone else in the WORLD who has ever worked at Second City. I wonder who I'll run into. The thought is actually alarming. "So look out," said Rachel. "You might go into a Starbucks and see ___________ there. Actually, it's not likely that he would be at Starbucks, is it?" No. It is not. Still: a funny memory lane. All those names and people from the past.
-- Watched snippets of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame concert, which I had not seen.
1. Stevie Wonder doing backup singing for Sting playing "Roxanne". What?? So beautiful, so moving.
2. Stevie Wonder breaking down during singing "The Way You Make Me Feel". John Legend sitting next to him, playing along, just jamming out.
3. Metallica. Holy shit, playing BACKUP for Lou Reed? That is one of the weirdest and most beautiful things I think I have ever seen in my life. Also, it made me realize (on a visceral level) just how FAST it is that Metallica normally plays. Here, they slowed it down - playing someone else's song, and just rocking out. I love those guys so much. Also playing backup for Ozzy (Lars, yelling into the microphone at the end), "We wouldn't be here if it weren't for this man" - and Ray Davies - that one might have been my favorite "duet" of all. Hetfield saying, before introducing Davies, "He SCHOOLED us, man." There was something just so EMOTIONAL about all of this. Every single person on that stage is a world-famous musician. But there was something about the energy of these duets that made it seem like they were just kids, "jamming" in their parents' basements, playing each other's songs.
4. U2. Only saw a little bit of that one but I had a million thoughts racing through my head as I watched Bono effing OWN that stage. He's not a tall man, but dude is a rock star, and his persona is enormous. He SEEMED like he was a giant.
some thoughts watching U2:
-- Bono's voice just keeps getting better and better. He launches it up into high notes with total freedom and confidence, knowing he can "get there". No fear or pushing. It's an amazing instrument - and doesn't at all show the wear and tear of some of those harder-living rock stars who can no longer hit their old notes. Bono's voice just soars up into that exciting higher-range.
-- I wish I could describe just what it is The Edge does that gives U2 that SOUND. That unmistakable U2 sound. You could pick their songs out of a lineup every time. It's thrilling.
5. Speaking of voices sounding better, James Hetfield's voice is just getting stronger and better and more flexible. It's quite incredible. His singing backup to "You Really Got Me" showed how strong and amazing his voice is. Even more so than when he was a young man.
6. Jeff Beck coming on to play the guitar part in Stevie Wonder's "Superstitious" - INCREDIBLE!!!! Jeff Beck - my God. These two giants, supporting each other - Mitchell and I were both all choked up. Artists. Even at the high multimillion-dollar level, they're just musicians ... this is what they do. They have been highly fortunate, they are geniuses as well - but seeing all of these huge singular STARS doing backup for each other ... just so amazing. I also loved when the song ended, and everyone was applauding, and Stevie stood up to take a bow - and you could see Jeff Beck across the stage, laughing and happy, and he waved at Wonder. Uhm, Jeff, don't think the dude can see you. But it was a beautiful moment, full of heart.
-- Plans. Breakfast this morning with Mitchell and Jordan and Brian (whom I've never met but who is FAMOUS to me due to a viewing of a DVD of him in a crazy wig and sparkley lipstick lip synching BRILLIANTLY to Eartha Kitt singing a song in Japanese - one of the most amazing things I have ever seen). Then I'm going to see Mitchell's matinee - and Jimmy Sweetheart will be there!!. Dinner afterwards. Maybe cocktails with Jordan. Please? Tomorrow? Lunch with Kate, Mitchell and Julie - I know OF Julie, and I've met her (sort of) - but my main experience of her is looking up at a highwire, and seeing her in a sparkley leotard dancing across the air above my head - so it'll be fun to actually MEET meet her. At some point, dinner and drinks with Ann Marie. Then, on Wednesday, going to see Kate's show. A full schedule.
-- It's actually not that cold. It was colder on the day I left New York than it is here at this moment. I must get down to the lake - I need to say hello.
October 7, 2009
Some fragments
-- Great game last night. I am not emotionally prepared for October baseball, but whatevs, it doesn't matter. It's here.
-- I miss Lucy. Hopefully I will get to see her real soon!
-- Speaking of October baseball, Miss Lucy had her first trip to Fenway last week.
-- I've been reading a book about Melvyn Pervis and John Dillinger for, oh, 4 months now. Actually, it's about that whole crime wave at that time, and it's quite good, and engaging, and all that, I just am moving slow as molasses. I have not finished a book since before my crack-up in June/July. I keep putting perfectly good books down, unfinished, and I am determined - even if it takes me all year (which it looks like it might) to just finish the damn thing. I just read the Little Bohemia Lodge section. Baby Face Nelson was a wackjob. I have hundreds of pages to go. I read about 4 paragraphs a day. That's my speed these days.
-- Gearing up for the reading of my script. Setting up a couple of rehearsals, all that jazz. I REFUSE to touch that stupid script until after the reading. Although I know I won't keep that promise.
-- Trying to get back into movie-watching as well. Slowly but surely.
-- My siblings all sent emails today that made me laugh out loud. I love them all.
-- Hope brushed too close to a candle last weekend and set herself on fire. It only singed her fur, not her skin - she didn't even realize that she had basically erupted into flames. I leapt on her and SLAPPED the flames out, terrifying her completely ("why has that lady gone completely crazy?") - and our relationship has yet to recover. She is none the worse for wear, and I pick her up and cuddle her, saying, in a loving tone, "Hope, you were on fire this weekend!" as though it is now a fond memory we share. She purrs like a maniac.
-- Today is so windy that the streets of New York have become a neverending series of slapstick comedy sketches. Women's skirts blow up over their heads. People's papers are whipped out of their own hands. I was walking on 16th street and I saw a paper plate rolling at what seemed to be the speed of freakin' light, WHIPPING by me, headed towards the East side. I saw one elegant man, in a suit and tie, struggling into the wind, and finally give up. He began to walk in slow-motion, like a mime, briefcase in hand, and went all slo-mo, causing general hilarity among the passersby.
-- I was nervous about moving to an apartment building directly across from an elementary school. I'm a morning person. Would my mornings be disturbed by the cacophony of the arriving schoolkids and school busses? For some reason, no. The busses don't pull up on my street, first of all, and the main entrance is not on my street either. But at 8:29 SHARP every morning, I hear some little pipsqueak (a different one every morning) first say The Pledge of Allegiance (in the very particular "I have no idea what I am saying and I take breaths in odd places because I have no idea what I am saying" cadences of school children everywhere) - and then lead the class in song, singing "God Bless America". Again, with the small pipsqueak voice, sometimes with a strong Spanish accent, screaming "white with foam" at the top of his lungs at 8:29 in the morning ... God bless America indeed. I have really grown to look forward to the ritual. "Oh, it's a girl's turn today!" I will think to myself, as the voice floats at me across the street. "Oops, he doesn't know how to say 'indivisible'," I think, as I go get more coffee. It's hysterical. A blessing, actually. Not a big fan of the Pledge myself, never have been, but boy I love hearing little mouse-voices shrieking it out every morning. Oh, and some mornings they sing the National Anthem. I am trying to figure out their schedule. If they alternate days? Not sure if I can discern the pattern yet. But again: starting my day with hearing a small child who was probably born in the DR, blasting out "Star Spangled Banner" at the top of his lungs into a microphone, is pretty awesome. I should record it.
-- Rest in peace, Irving Penn. Big obit here. I have always had a strange attraction to his stuff - especially the portraits where he puts famous people in corners (The Spencer Tracy one is my favorite). Slideshow of his work here.
June 11, 2009
L.A. snapshots. No context.
"It's a quasi-dystopian universe."
"The leader of the group then tried to hug him into submission and he shrank into a fat Mexican."
"Say goodbye to cousin Sheila, Seamus!"
"BREAK A LEG!"
"My needs as a woman are simple and biological. I would like to have a penis on a regular basis and perhaps a child."
"Big Papi's losin' it."
"There's a hegemony."
"A what, Cash?"
"Everything is one."
"Oh, Okay."
"Nobody holds hands anymore. And everyone has Brazilians. I just don't fit in."
"You drove the Volvo yesterday, right?"
"The black one?"
Long pause full of scorn.
"I'm at the point where I don't want to know what anyone does. Like, don't tell me you use anal beads on your wife, okay? I don't want to hear it."
"You have to know it has taken an act of superhuman strength for me not to write about all of this."
"Really?"
"Dude, are you kidding me? Do you have any idea who you are dealing with?"
"Really?"
"Please tell me you're not a tax accountant."
"Meanwhile you're just pissed off that you don't have a hickey."
"I really like Star Trek, but I don't want to be a Trekkie. I am going to try really hard to not go down that path."
"It's okay, Cash. You have a family who loves you. We won't let you."
"You literally cannot stump Seamus with Simon Says. It's amazing." (it really was.)
"Julio Lugo is spending way too much time at his tango academy. We warned him that this could be a problem."
"No. We do not put stickers on each other's private parts." (this is akin to Jean Kerr's dictum "please don't eat the daisies")
"Can you just drop me off at Pavilions?"
"What? No, we'll wait and drive you home."
"Oh, please, I know I'm so weird, but no, please just drop me off."
"Uhm ... okay ..."
"I just want to stroll the aisles and get Chex Mix and Ginger Ale in peace."
"Wow. Okay."
"Please?"
"Hi, Uncle Sheila!"
June 2, 2009
Snapshots
-- I have never made so many lists in my life. I cannot live without my lists. I keep everything on the same To-Do List, so that "buy nail polish" lives side by side with "Get a life".
-- Lucy is growing so fast and I feel like I'm missing out! At least I get pictures on almost a daily basis.
-- I'm not renewing my lease. Let the adventures begin. The great unknown. Leap of faith.
-- Green Day's new album is a bit of a revelation. I was almost tentative, going in, because I loved "American Idiot" so much. I was afraid "21st Century Breakdown" would fall short. Well, no. It hasn't. Funny thing is - and this is mainly because of my iPod and how I listen to music now - it was a while before I listened to the whole album, start to finish. I clued in on one or two songs ("East Jesus Nowhere" and "Horseshoes and Hand grenades" primarily) - but then a couple of days ago I listened to the whole thing, start to finish, and my God, they have done it again. A perfect modulation of rage and nostalgia and sweetness and cynicism - each song leading into the next - nothing standing out as "not fitting". I'm going through phases. I mean, I just bought the album last week, so it's early yet - but first I clicked in to "East Jesus Nowhere". Couldn't stop listening to it. Then it was "Vive la Gloria" - couldn't stop listening to that one. I had a couple of hours where "Last of the American Girls" became THE song for me ... and now I am deeply embedded in "21 Guns", and listen to it on eternal repeat and it shows no sign of stopping any time soon. LOVE the album. I'm thrilled.
-- Too much to do in too little time. Hence: the lists. Oh well, whether or not I get it all done, the rest of this week WILL happen. Time WILL move forward and I will move along with it. Hard to see that, though, as I scurry around "buying nail polish" and "getting a life".
-- ME: "So what should we do? Saturday night? Friday? What's your schedule? Are you free? Should we nail down a time? Am I able to chill out? Seriously not sure. Talk to me. Pick a place, pick a time. Where should we go?"
HE: "Everything's going to be fine."
May 17, 2009
Things I love
-- my Final Draft screenwriting program, bought for me as a surprise gift. It's the best thing ever.
-- the new Green Day album. Goosebumps.
-- the way Hope stops to clean herself in the middle of madly attacking a Netflix envelope
-- my mother and how good she is, how kind and deep
-- all of Jean and Pat's friends - top-notch people
-- my weight loss
-- my cousins
-- my Velcro curlers
-- $200 round-trip-tickets to Los Angeles - score!
-- the weather now - I love the spring chill in the air
-- all my pen pals
-- the kick-ass query letter my agent wrote to send out to publishers and editors. If that doesn't sell my book nothing will.
-- television movies from the 1980s and the crazy freakin' events they can wrought decades later
-- Lucy's multiple chins and her beautiful hands and puffy cheeks
-- email. Facebook. Twitter. All the ways we all can keep in touch ... especially with my family ... and the events of the last year. I have never felt alone.
May 1, 2009
Quotes from this week
"THE PIE IS BACK."
"Basically: fear."
"I do have nodes available right now, but I fear they might not be suitable."
"CLONE."
"Gahoy. Should I close that par tag or ... gahoy?"
"That piece of pie is like a drunk stepdad who makes an embarrassing speech at a wedding. Like: sit down!"
"Should I go into the nodequeue or ..."
"But how do I get the baby's number? Because, dammit, I need to call her."
"Sheila. Here's some meta data." (notebook thrown at me)
"If I never see a piece of pecan pie again ..."
"It's always an emotional drama."
"I will then input the meta data (as well as the java script) ..."
"It's extremely important to narrate our emotions."
"Fear."
"Panic."
"Tragedy."
"And then we unschedule? Yes? Denied?"
"So I then ... what ... I drag the baby up?"
"We are all about poo here."
"Sheila, you just went emotionally dead right now."
"I know. I'm so sorry you had to see that."
"FEAR!!!!"
April 11, 2009
One-word day
Rain.
Haircut.
Taxes.
Yoga.
Writing.
Screenplay.
Church.
Cassavetes.
Laundry.
Bleu.
Cooking.
Hope.
March 14, 2009
Snapshots
-- Hope, after she finishes her Fancy Feast, drags the famous banana-toy over and places it in the bowl. I have no idea why she does it and it makes me laugh, although it is making the banana very grimy. It's like the feline equivalent of putting your napkin in your plate when you're done eating.
-- Allison introduced me to a show on Animal Planet called "Jockeys" which I am now addicted to. Because I don't have television, this presents a problem. But great show. An ongoing series, following 5 or 6 jockeys. A whole world I knew nothing about.
-- I had my first mammogram this week, and found myself near tears as I approached the radiology place. I felt very alone and nervous, and my boobs were about to be squashed into a machine, and maybe it would hurt, and what if the results were bad, and I had no idea what to expect. The X-ray technician (I will never forget you, lady) knew it was my first time and walked me through it, and she couldn't have been nicer. The entire time she was smushing my boobs this-a way and that-a way, she was talking on about how much she loved Diana (as in Princess Diana) and how she was the "people's princess" and what a shame what had happened, and also Diana looked Irish, didn't I think so? She had red cheeks, and fair skin, and she seemed like a very nice person, and it was all just so sad what had happened. I am not saying that X-ray technician babbled on like this on purpose, to keep me focused and relaxed, but I am not discounting the possibility. I was very thankful. She also said to me, before we went in the room, "Is there any possibility - any at all - that you are pregnant." I fired back, "Not even the tiniest chance." "Good." I was out of there in an hour, boobs a bit sore, but no worse for wear. Thank you, kindly, X-ray technician lady.
-- I went to a party this week at Babeland (Google it at your own risk), and at one point I was walking around the store, with my arms full of potential purchases. As you can imagine, if you already know what Babeland is, I looked ridiculous, but no more ridiculous than everyone else at the party. A photographer came up to me (obviously an event photographer - boy had major hardware around his neck) and said, "Can I take your picture?" I said, "Where is the picture going to go?" He said, rather snotty, "Honey, it's gonna go everywhere." Don't call me 'honey'. I may have wild red hair and be wearing big black boots and lugging around an armful of lascivious paraphernalia, but I am actually a Victorian-era Gibson Girl at heart and you have to earn the right to call me "honey", mkay? Preferably after we are engaged. I said, "Then absolutely No, you cannot take my picture." He said, "Everyone else is fine with having their picture taken." I decided to try to take the edge off of our exchange, and joked with him, "Yes, but they aren't as FAMOUS as I am. I am EXTREMELY famous and I cannot risk being seen holding all of this stuff. It would put me in a very compromising position." He was blank. He didn't get it. I said, kidding with him, "Don't you know who I am??" He backed away from me in fear and also loathing ... because some people loathe that which they cannot understand ... and stayed far away from me for the rest of the night. Oh well, you can't win 'em all. Some people think I am very funny.
-- I am working on all kinds of projects and I can feel myself getting scattered. I took a 3-hour nap today and that is so not like me.
-- My sister Jean's pregnant belly is so big that apparently, her husband Pat walks into the room, and constantly sees Jean standing in front of the mirror, staring at herself. Much hilarity ensues. I can't wait to see her!
-- I went over to Allison's last night, and I had all this SHIT to tell her, and she said, "Okay, shoot. I am perfectly prepared to not talk for the next two hours, except to ask questions." I love her.
-- Ghost Town is a fantastic movie. A good old-fashioned comedy for ADULTS - like they used to make in the 30s and 40s (it is reminiscent of Cary Grant in Topper - an analogy I obviously am not the first one to make) - with three charming smart leads ... it's just a delight. I kept waiting for it go off the rails, and become schmaltzy or didactic, and miracle of miracles, it never did. Highly recommended.
-- And speaking of Ricki Gervais, he is going to be appearing on Sesame Street, and I'm sure many of you have already seen this, but below the jump is outtakes from the show - an interview Elmo did with Gervais. It is absolutely hysterical. I love the bit about the pajamas.
December 10, 2008
Snapshots 10 words or less
-- Hope is baffled when I draw the curtains.
-- Hours-long crying jag today. Hours. Satisfying and draining.
-- Reading Anagrams
-- Cannot get enough of "Now" by Everclear. Literally. Constant rotation.
-- Checking the mailbox for rejection slips or acceptances. Nervewracking. Fun.
-- Old flame texted me: "You remind me of Dexter's sister."
-- The ex-boyfriends are killing me these days. They are EVERYWHERE.
-- I became Archie Bunker at 5 a.m. Alex was there.
-- So many movies to see, so little time.
-- Facebook is vaguely evil.
-- Being psychic is inconvenient and disturbing.
November 28, 2008
Snapshots
-- Justin came over with his three kids. Cashel and the three kids were playing down the hall and we could hear some ruckus going on. Justin went to check, came back and said, "It's fine. They're just playing Somali Pirates."
-- My father gave each of us a copy of the book he wrote in 1989. He had been keeping the copies for us - not wanting them to get ruined in all of our various moves. But now we each have a copy. Beautiful. Dedicated to my mother, of course. Cashel, good little boy, flipped through the book and said, "When was Ulysses published?" What a sweetie. Talking with the adults, being interested in what was going on. Bless you.
-- Bren, Cash, Siobhan and I went to go see Bolt the night before Thanksgiving. It was great!! So much fun! We all just fell in love with that obese awesome hamster. Great great character.
-- Cashel made me a great card for my birthday. He's a very good artist. I stand there in a real bad-ass pose, and I am wearing a fedora and cracking a bullwhip. I am flanked by two enormous statues - kind of like the lions on the steps of the New York Public Library - only these are two giant turkeys. Above my head is an open book on a pedestal, and it has a question mark on the pages and is called "Untitled". It is addressed to SHEILA O'MALLEY AND THE FUTURE NATIONAL BESTSELLER. I was really touched.
November 17, 2008
Snapshots from Today
-- Shoeshine guy called out at a passerby, a middle-aged man with greying hair, "Young man! You are in a sorry situation, my friend!" I glanced at the man's shoes, and saw that they were brown and horribly scuffed. It made me laugh. Excellent and very specific marketing technique by shoeshine guy. I also loved how he called him "young man".
-- I sat in the waiting room of my ob/gyn. She was running 45 minutes behind schedule. The place was packed. There were pregnant women - some alone, some with their husbands, the wait was so long that many people had their laptops out, there was a woman with a small baby boy toddling around the joint, there were single women on cell phones, and there was also a woman who looked like this, reading Cosmo. I pulled out the book I am reading right now - Vile Bodies
-- Facebook is kind of blowing me away right now. I can't believe the people I am reuniting with.
-- I am still working on putting my computer back together. I still need to re-install my iTunes library, which I am avoiding, due to, well, terror. The problem is that half of my songs did NOT come from iTunes, but from my old CD collection, and so the stupid program will not recognize them as MINE. Ridonk. I have to go to "music recovery" and blah blah blah, and hopefully it will be fine but I am avoiding it.
-- I have also been reading the second volume of Tennessee Williams' letters. Amazing. It goes up until 1953, after the failed production of Orpheus Descending and also probably his biggest box-office hit in the theatre - Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. The correspondence between him and Elia Kazan about the scripts and the problems therein have to be read to be believed. These men had TRUST, man, they TRUSTED each other. They could be brutally honest. I am blown away by it all. Kazan would push Williams in one direction, and Williams, a practical man, could be flexible but there came a point when no, he could not. And Kazan was, of course, not a conventional man ... but when their tastes differ, boy, do the sparks fly. Their correspondence is my favorite in the whole book.
-- Starting to watch Year of the Dragon now, with Mickey Rourke as a rumpled prematurely grey cop trying to battle the gangs in Chinatown. I saw it years ago and remember very little of it.
November 15, 2008
Snapshots from last week
-- My hard drive crashed. It was totally traumatic. I turned my computer on and was greeted with a sickly blank grey screen, and on it was the image of a small folder with a blinking question mark on it. THAT IS NEVER GOOD. Eventual result: took it to the "Genius Bar" at the Apple store on 5th Avenue, they shipped it off to their Apple repair shop in the wilds of Kentucky or someplace where their oompa loompas could work on it and give me a new hard drive, and I just got it back yesterday, with a spanking new keyboard to boot. It's a total pain in the ass because I have to set everything up again - but I'm just glad it's back in my hands. The guys at the Genius Bar are totally awesome and I would like to marry all of them.
-- Slept over Allison's on Thursday night. We watched an episode of Celebrity Rehab, our favorite show on television, stopping it every 2 minutes to discuss the psychological ramifications of everyone's addiction issues, as well as to discuss our shared lust for Dr. Drew. We love that show. I adore Amber. I really hope she makes it. Gary Busey is insane. Jeff Conway needs to stop whining and take some responsibility. Rod Stewart's son is a total cupcake. Rodney King appears to be a nice man. Jeff Conway's girlfriend is an idiot bottom-feeder of the worst kind. But for me, right now, I am all about Amber.
-- Hope and I have had a big breakthrough in our relationship. It all started when I moved my bed and she started hanging out on the bed with me. But she's not a cuddler and I never knew where she slept. Out in the apartment somewhere, or sprawled out on my windowsill. But suddenly, about 5 nights ago, I woke up at around 3 or 4 am ... because something was different .... Hope had ensconced herself on my pillow, just above my head, curling her body perfectly around my head. Hope!! What are you DOING? I thought you didn't like to cuddle!! Amazing! Now, I could never cajole her into that position myself, she would not tolerate it. She has to choose when she gets on the pillow, and it has to be on her terms. It's a little bit annoying, because my pillow is small and frankly she was pushing my head off of it with her small purring body, but still, I think it is a great sign in our developing relationship. Every night since then, she sleeps there. I wake up in the morning and there she is, draped around my head. Good girl.
-- My parents teach me what marriage is (and should be).
-- The tree went up at Rockefeller Center yesterday. It was a madhouse. I love to see it on the first day it goes up - before the decorations, before anything - because it's surrounded by scaffolding, and workers are climbing all over the scaffolds - so the entire scene looks like an urban version of the barn-raising scene in Witness. It was raining yesterday too so all the workers were wearing huge flapping slickers.
-- Sometimes I catch a glimpse of myself at certain moments and think, "Wow. This behavior could be construed as you being a total asshole." I rarely am a total asshole on PURPOSE and whatever I do, I pretty much do sincerely, rather than for some EFFECT. That being said, at one point this week, I was sitting in the bar at the Plaza Hotel on a rainy afternoon reading a book of Latin and conjugating verbs in my notebook. I'm not even kidding. I was being totally sincere ... Latin is a project of mine right now (having taken 4 (or 3?) years of it in high school, but I want to get back to it. I also come from a family filled with Latin freaks as well as nuns - all of whom straddled Vatican II, but not before they had enough Latin poured into their brains for all time - as should be evidenced by this post from October, 2004, an important time to any Red Sox fan, so Latin was a part of my childhood) ... and I had some time to kill and the rain poured against the tall windows and what the hell, I started conjugating. But I had a couple of moments where I laughed at what I must look like and what an unfriendly observer might think. "That woman over there is such an ASSHOLE." And to that I might reply, "Nil desperandum. This is just my modus vivendi." Or, if I were in a more combative mood, I might reply, "Oderint dum meteant, suckers." Or, more likely, I might just say in a tired tone, "Look, you like to do sudoku in your spare time. I enjoy Latin. De gustibus non est disputandum, mkay?"
August 6, 2008
Snapshots
-- Still making my way thru War and Peace, a couple chapters a day. Still only on page 540 ... but it's riveting. It's not a boring read and even the long sections about the freemasons end up adding to the general picture of a society in some sort of spiritual crisis. I am loving it. Patience, Sheila, patience.
-- What's up with Hope, you ask? Well, you know what they say. If it ain't broke ...
-- I was in the elevator with Philip Seymour Hoffman yesterday. He looked terrific, in a suit and tie, and was bitching to his friend about Internet Explorer. I am not even kidding. Hoffman is my new best friend.
-- Great business dinner the other night, with plans and priorities set. Words of wisdom that I have been thinking a lot about: "Don't prioritize your schedule. Schedule your priorities." I have really been chewing on that ... it means more to me the more I think about it. I am trying to make that shift in my thinking. What are my priorities - which are separate from my To Do List? My long-term priorities? I need to schedule them.
-- Watched Some Came Running the other night for the 500th time and was struck yet again (SPOILERS FOLLOWING) by the grace, humor and decadence (and inherent decency as well) of Dean Martin's performance, of how much I related to the schoolteacher - she is me - and also how Shirley Maclaine's performance may be a bit too BUSY for my taste - but in the end, it doesn't matter. Her death packs an enormous punch, and her death scene too is one that should be studied by actors as "how to do it". I think a lot of that comes from her life as a dancer, and her control of her body, but the way she flings herself into space, catapulting onto the prone Frank Sinatra ... heart-breaking. Beautifully done. Vincente Minnelli said he wanted the movie to look like "the inside of a jukebox" and, as always with his films, the production design is exquisite.
-- My computer literally made me cry today. I burst into tears at the bugginess, the frozen screens, the slowness (DAMN YOU MOBILE ME), the mishaps, the sludgy response time ... I was amazed at how quickly I was undone. I went outside and stood on the sidewalk weeping. Retarded. Of course I wasn't crying about the computer - it was about everything else ... and actually, in retrospect, it was a nice release. Much needed.
-- I miss my family.
-- I can't get enough of the Mamma Mia soundtrack, especially Meryl Streep's nearly psychotic version of "Money Money Money". Sheer liquid JOY. She is an Id run amok.
-- Thinking about the last line from About a Boy a lot these days. "You need backup." That's where a lot of my tears came from today. Feeling like a lost little lamb. Like I need backup.
-- I want to crawl in the sink with Hope, is basically what I'm saying.
-- Watching Tarkovsky's Andrei Rublev tonight. Perhaps a sweeping controversial saga about a 15th century Russian monk will be just the ticket.
-- Is it fall yet? I hate summer.
-- Thrilling news - the production of The Seagull with Kristin Scott Thomas that I moaned about not being able to see last year is coming to New York this fall for a limited run. Count me in!!
July 19, 2008
Snapshots
-- Damn, it's hot.
-- Having just spent an entire week where I took lengthy swims maybe 5 times a day, I have decided I need to have more swimming in my life. So 2 days ago I joined the Y. I'm excited to get started and there's a class every Wed. night called "AQUA JOG" and I am INCREDIBLY intrigued. I'm going this Wednesday.
-- Had a great girl group last night - and drove from Englewood Cliffs to Livingston New Jersey to get there - my first experience (for realz) on the New Jersey turnpike/freeway system - and I nearly had a heart attack. I've driven on the damn 401 in LA and wasn't as confused as I was yesterday. There was one moment when I actually got frightened, like if I made a mistake I would find myself in an industrial wasteland with scary gang-bangers watching me drive by and I would be unable to correct my error. Ha. But I made it to my destination - although a 45 minute drive took me over 2 hours, due to traffic on the 280. But girl group was worth it. I need my lady friends. I love those women. We've been meeting once a month (off and on) for 8 years now. They are dear friends, and touching base with them is a great relief. We all get to talk - we take turns - we contribute, listen, laugh hysterically, tell stories to fill everyone in ... we save stuff up for girl group. Oh, and Jill's husband gave me directions to get home that were so kick-ass that they should be given an award. I was dreading my ride home - but it was easy, simple, and he cut out most of the confusion I had experienced getting there. Beautiful.
-- I am still reading War and Peace but I have so much work to do offline that I've only been able to read a page or two a day (since I got back from vacation).
-- Thank you, David, for putting in my air conditioner. You are a dear friend, and now that the real dog days have hit - I am SO GLAD to have it.
-- Hearing Tim Gunn say, "The judges will think you all are slackers!" to the new group of contestants on Project Runway made me so happy. I did love the winning dress - I thought it was retro, cute, girlie - and very very creative. I mean, vacuum cleaner bags! And coffee filters!!
I LOVED all the comments about the first dude eliminated and his outfit. "It looks like a nurse who's about to go on a murdering spree." hahahahaha
-- I was feeling a little bit lost and forlorn the other night. So I perked myself up by sitting in bed, laptop out, and watching, oh, about TWO STRAIGHT HOURS of Judge Judy on Youtube. I do not think it is possible to love her more than I do. I find her so refreshing. I felt so much better after spending that time in her presence. I felt like: Okay. I am making the right decisions. They do not necessarily feel good, and I am NOT having an easy time of it, but I am taking responsibility for myself, and I am not a complete and utter moron. God, I love her. I want her to approve of me.
-- I'm a little bit in love with my dentist. I am getting a ton of work done in the next year (nothing major - just replacing all my fillings, and getting a mouthguard because apparently I'm "a grinder". Who knew? I mean, it makes sense because I am, hands down, one of the most stressed-out people I know. So of course I lie asleep at night grinding away. Of course.) ... and we set up a plan, for me to get the work done gradually, so it wouldn't be financially prohibitive for me - and he's so calm and gentle and funny (with a toe-curling Australian accent) that I feel safe in his presence. Awesome dentist. If you live in the New York area, and want a recommendation for a dentist, please shoot me an email. He's the best!
May 31, 2008
Snapshots quick quick
-- Finished Decline and Fall (I talked about it here). In the last 5 pages, Waugh breaks out the brilliance of his message, going from covert to overt. He truly amazes me. I never stopped laughing - but the ending is so perceptive you almost want to shield your eyes. Poor Paul Pennyfeather. Imagine accidentally becoming an international white slave trader. Imagine being unaware that what you were actually doing was trafficking in white slaves - at the behest of your rich fiancee? It's so obvious what is going on - as Paul races all over Europe, trying to get this girl out of hock, that girl ... so when he is finally arrested and sent to jail you are not surprised. Also, this was the man who found himself, through a series of unfortunate events, running across the Quad without trousers on at Oxford and being expelled. But he really had LOST his pants! No matter. Expelled. Paul Pennyfeather takes things pretty easy though. He enjoys prison quite a bit. He finds it intensely relaxing. And also, I LOVED the head of the prison with all his hi-falutin' ideas about rehabilitation ... he believes that every single crime, even multiple slaughter, can be traced back to thwarted creative impulses. So, in this prison, mass murderers are given hammers and pens and sharp objects - to 'create' with ... and naturally, the mass murderers use them to, you know, kill again. Or escape. Paul Pennyfeather gets caught up in circumstances beyond his control. He wants to be a priest. That is his calling. Instead, he finds himself running nude across the Quad at Oxford and trafficking in white slavery by accident. It's hilarious.
-- I have a lot of worries right now. I worked really hard today. I'm on a break.
-- Thankfully I have new neighbors and they have sex on an almost constant basis, so I find that completely relaxing to listen to. Not that I have a choice. Last night I believe I heard the resounding whap of him slapping her ass emanating through the calm night air of my neighborhood. Now it's summer so their windows were open so the whole courtyard could hear the entire event. I love urban living. I'm not even being sarcastic.
-- Picked up Enduring Love
What came back to me was a nightmare I had occasionally in my twenties and thirties, from which I used to shout myself awake. The setting varied, but the essentials never did. I found myself in a prominent place watching from far off the unfolding of a disaster - an earthquake, a fire in a skyscraper, a sinking ship, an erupting volcano. I could see helpless people, reduced by distance to an undifferentiated mass, scurrying about in panic, certain to die. The horror was in the contrast between their apparent size and the enormity of their suffering. Life was revealed as cheap; thousands of screaming individuals, no bigger than ants, were about to be annihilated, and I could do nothing to help.
I can already tell this book is going to be a major ride. He is so good. And the first chapter! It DARES you to not go further. It's also written in a tone of knowing desolation. Joe Rose, the narrator, knows how it all ends. He knows what's coming. He says things like, "My first mistake on that day was to such and such ..." It gives a chilling effect. We react to events, without thinking sometimes ... and we often make mistakes. Usually the mistakes don't have such overwhelming consequences, but when they do, sometimes people just keep going back over and over the event ... trying to work it out, forgive themselves, justify it, whatever ...
-- Speaking of that kind of situation - where people are somehow frozen in time by a singular event which breaks their lives up into Before and After sections, I watched Picnic at Hanging Rock
-- It is possible to go into a fugue state at the iTunes store. I really feel like I am not responsible enough to handle having access at all times! Is it necessary to have every single Shirelles song ever recorded? Well, frankly, yes. And I must have them NOW. Do you "need" to have Red Hot Chili Peppers' recording of Stevie Wonder's "higher Ground"? Need it, Sheila? Well, YES, dammit and I need it instantly. Like TWO MINUTES AGO. Seriously. It's a problem. I wake up from my fugue state for tinhorns and have 75 new songs in the Library.
-- Michael, the favorite ex, emailed me to say, "Just wanted you to know I've been thinking of you. Maybe it's because of Sydney Pollack and Harvey Korman dying, but you've been on my mind." I love that. I love that cause it was the same for me, too. Speaking of Harvey Korman, here is a wonderful tribute.
May 13, 2008
Culture snapshots and emotional snapshots
-- I'm reading A Widow for One Year
-- Thank you, dear Siobhan, for introducing me to the amazing pleasures of L.E.O. - I cannot get enough of them right now. (Website here) Mike Viola and the Candybutchers are pretty much a required course if you are an O'Malley - kinda like the Foo Fighters - you at least have to give them a chance ... otherwise we won't take you seriously. It's kind of non-negotiable. Sorry. Anyway, L.E.O. is sheer liquid joy floating through the atmosphere. The song "Make Me" is my current fave. (Explanation of what L.E.O. is here)
-- Thinking a lot about Jeff Bridges these days. More later.
-- Went to a screening last week of Mongol, the sweeping Russian epic about Genghis Khan. Big plush press screening room on 57th Street, it was great. Everyone (myself included) blackberrying throughout the film, stepping outside to take a phone call, whatever ... and also scribbling on notepads throughout ... totally different atmosphere from seeing a movie out in the real world, but fun and interesting. My review will be on House Next Door eventually - I'll point you that way when it launches.
-- Totally consumed by something I'm working on now. It's causing me a lot of stress, there are not enough hours in the day, but I find a deadline ultimately very freeing.
-- Oh, guess who I heard from randomly (God bless Facebook) ... the guy I gave a photograph of my eyeball to for Valentine's Day 'lo those many years ago. Hysterical. It was good to catch up. I didn't bring up the eyeball. It's still too embarrassing.
-- I miss all of my friends right now.
-- Cashel wears a fedora to school now. He calls it his "trademark".
-- Allison's going to Italy for 10 days with her aunt to take a vacation in Tuscany on a horse farm. She's going to be riding horses the entire time. I'm so happy for her, although I will miss her.
-- Thank you, Hitachi. From the bottom of my heart: THANK. YOU.
-- Oh, and I'm also reading Patricia Neal's autobiography
-- I crossed 2 or 3 pretty major things off my To Do list which have been haunting me. I actually cried when I crossed the last one off. It had been tormenting my mind, and giving me stress dreams.
-- Watched Stranger Than Fiction last night for, oh, the 10th time, and had to mop the tears off my face at the end. Slowly it's becoming one of my all-time favorite movies. ("You're never too old for space camp, dude.")
-- Last week I said the following sentence to Patrick, "My fallopian tubes are unfurling." Patrick still has not recovered.
-- My entire consciousness is now consumed by the bridesmaid dress I will wear in September.
-- I find office supplies immensely relaxing.
March 27, 2008
Snapshots
-- Reading Blood Meridien. Holy shit. Let's see. Who has begged me to read this book? Uhm, how about everyone on the planet? Keith M. My father. Bren. And now David. And it was David's email to me about Blood Meridien that made me finally pick it up. The writing is superb. Terrifying. I'm only 30 pages in but I can already feel it is going to put me through the wringer.
-- Finished my 4th of the Master & Commander series - The Mauritius Command. I am in love with the series.
-- Watched Eastern Promises last night. Very good. Viggo Mortensen is riveting. There were some cliched moments in the plot - it was a little bit too "neat" for me (Naomi Watts' character had lost her baby - so she becomes obsessed with the orphaned baby! And etc. Too neat.) - but he was amazing. You can't take your eyes off him. I also loved the set design of the Russian restaurant "Trans-Siberian". Awesome awesome atmosphere.
-- I have become addicted to the Canadian television series Slings & Arrows, which I have been watching on DVD. More to come. I won't write any more until I finish the whole thing (3 seasons). Kate sent me the first two seasons ... not for any reasons, just because ... and I can't thank her enough for introducing me to this wonderful series. Mental Multivitamin has been raving about it for a while and I totally agree with her assessment: "Perfect and brilliant and perfectly brilliant". It's laugh out loud funny, but also poignant, and also gets - totally gets - what it is to be in the theatre. The absurdity ("Everyone cries when they get stabbed. There's no shame in that!") - but then the moment, the magical moment, when things come together ... and the play comes to life. Marvelous. I can't WAIT for season 3.
-- I had sent a kind of yowl-of-loneliness email to Michael, telling him what's going on right now, and normally I resist those yowls, but whatever, if you can't let your friends in on what you're going through, what good are they as friends? I got home last night and noticed he had called and left a message. Picked up the phone and his message not only brought a huge (almost embarrassingly huge) smile to my face - but it also made me cry. So I stood in my kitchen with a Humpty Dumpty smile and tears on my face. Awesome. Michael said, "I am here to give you a big voice-hug. Are you ready? Here it is." There was a pause. And I then heard him hugging himself and making big "oomph" grunting noises - as though he were hugging me and squeezing me tight. It was hysterical!! I felt hugged, if you know what I mean. Michael also referred to his own voice as "sonorous" ("I figured you needed to hear my sonorous voice ...") and I just love him for being such a jagoff. He also said, "I'm coming to New York soon, so you will be able to see my rapidly aging face ..." I love him.
-- I have discovered the unbelievable pleasures of River Road - the road that goes along the bottom of the cliffs on my side of the Hudson. Much exploring to do. Not only that, but there's a Target along that road. As well as a Whole Foods.
-- I'm kind of obsessed right now with Dan Fogelberg's song "The Phoenix". Can't stop listening to it.
-- I went a little insane over the weekend and impulsively bought about 30 books on Amazon - all used, many of them were only one cent. Of course I have to pay for shipping and handling, so it added up - but not TOO much. I got 30 books for about 30 dollars ... and now they have all started arriving. It's like I went into a fugue state as I ordered the books ... and forgot what I ordered. So it's fun to open up the packages because I have no idea what's inside. I bought all of SE Hinton's books. I realized that it is just not right that I do not have a copy of Tex, The Outsiders, Rumble Fish and needed to rectify that. I also bought all of the Paul Zindel books that I do not have, and that is surprisingly a lot. I have read all of them - like Harry and Hortense at Hormone High (hahahaha), and I Never Loved Your Mind - so I bought all of them. Very happy! Then there were random books I came across - in book reviews, or mentioned in blog posts - that I ordered. I got Laura Kipnis' book about women - very excited to read that ... I bought a couple of Paul Berman's books = and I read 3 pages of his Two Utopias book and am already blown away. I finally got my own copy of the Truffaut/Hitchcock intereviews (for 65 cents - love Amazon!) - as well as a copy of WH Auden's lectures on Shakespeare, which I can't WAIT to dig into. I also bought a biography of Jennifer Jones, and the second volume of Shelley Winters' autobiography which I adore beyond measure - and lost somewhere along the way in all of my moves.
-- I'm sleeping pretty good. So for that I am grateful. Knock wood.
March 18, 2008
Benevolence is:
-- waking up and smelling the coffee that has already percolated, while I slept
-- hearing the soprano choir boys in the balcony rehearsing when I stop off to go to afternoon mass and I get there early
-- calling home and hearing Siobhan and Jean and Pat and Bren laughing in the background, and hearing Cashel playing "The Star Wars theme" on the piano
-- listening to the mix Mitchell made for me when I was in Chicago. It goes like this:
Come Sail Away - Alexandra Billings
Errol Flynn - Amanda McBroom
Arms Of A Woman - Amos Lee
Rest Your Love on Me - Andy Gibb & Olivia Newton-John
Bosom Buddies (Mame) - Angela Lansbury & Beatrice Arthur
It's A Miracle - Barry Manilow
Let The River Run - Alexandra Billings
You Can't Always Get What You Want/I Shall Be Released (Live Version) - Bette Midler
Don't Go - Yaz
Mississippi Rolling Stone - Tina Turner
An Old Fashioned Love Song - Three Dog Night
Marry Me a Little - Stephen Sondheim
Baby It's You - The Shirelles
I (Who Have Nothing) - Shirley Bassey
Rich Woman - Robert Plant & Alison Krauss
Fire - The Pointer Sisters
On The Street Where You Live - Nat King Cole
Van Lear Rose - Loretta Lynn
Ol Man River - Judy Garland
The Bitch of Living - Spring Awakening
-- his voice saying to me, in his lilting accent of Trinidad, as I cry in his arms, "You are strong, darling. You are strong."
-- getting an email from David raving about Blood Meridien
-- clean laundry
-- the fact that I have kept 5 out of 6 plants alive for almost 10 years now (one just died. I have a problem with jade. I kill them repeatedly)
-- going outside to beat my rugs in my front yard, and chatting with the little old lady next door, who is potting her plants in her front yard
-- the chill in the air, the heavy grey sky, the gleaming lights of the city
-- hearing my father say to me, "So what are you reading?"
February 8, 2008
Culture snapshots
-- I am not at all in love with the new season of Rock of Love. It cannot come close to the brilliance of the first season - and I can't believe I am saying this, but I miss Lacey! As heinous as that bitch was, she MADE that show. All the girls on the show now seem to be strippers with enormous collagen lips. Nobody seems normal. They all seem like ragged whores on the edge of oblivion. Not that there's anything wrong with that, if they're happy ... but the first season was so good because there were a handful of relatively normal girls (albeit clinically insane) - who were vying for Bret Michaels' attention. But now it doesn't seem to have that OOMPH. Because yes. I do want Bret Michaels to find someone to "continue to rock his world". I yearn for his happiness. I lose sleep over it. But to see those girls whip around the roller rink with baby carriages ... in some sort of maternal roller-derby situation ... My God. Television has never been so awesome. But where is Lacey? And Heather? I love those girls!
-- I am reading a biography of James Monroe right now (making my way through Schlesinger's awesome American Presidents series). I didn't know much about James Monroe - except that he was part of that Virginia dynasty of men ... but other than that, I didn't know much about him. It's fascinating. Gary Hart wrote the book - he has done a great job. I'm loving it. I love the whole series, in general. They haven't published all of them yet - but I have all of the ones in the series so far. They aren't going in order, either - so the George H.W. Bush volume is published - but the one on Abraham Lincoln hasn't come out yet (and freakin' EL Doctorow has written that one - I am dying to read it!) Great series. Having a lot of fun with it.
-- Watched Fort Apache last night, and was struck, for the 5000th time, with John Wayne's effectiveness as an actor and movie star. He has one moment where he shouts, "HOLD YOUR FIRE, MEN" and then says to himself, "Hold your fire." A possibly cheesy moment. But John Wayne doesn't have a cheesy bone in his body. You cannot force that man to ham. To overplay. The movie is interesting because it places Henry Fonda in the position of being the true alpha-dog ... and usually it's John Wayne who's the alpha, in his films. To see Fonda be above him, and watching Wayne have to deal with that - is fascinating. They both have their points - and in Wayne's moving monologue at the end, we can see that he has conceded to Fonda's position ... that Fonda's hard-ness had made the regiment better. He was willing to be "the bad guy" to his men - in order to make them better. And Shirley Temple is adorable in the movie. Surprise surprise. I love John Ford's movies because it's like an old-time regional theatre, where the same people keep showing up, in project after project. Like: Ward Bond (GOD WHO IS BETTER THAN HIM??) and Victor Maclagen (LOVE HIM) ... John Ford standbys. Always good. His movies would not work without that rock-solid ensemble of players. Love the movie.
January 13, 2008
Poor Sheila's Almanac
-- We've had a couple of days of unseasonably warm mild weather. It has sucked. 65 degrees? Go to hell.
-- Cold snap coming in tonight. And I know I sound like Pa Ingalls but I swear that I can smell snow before it comes. Smells like snow. It's not just that the air is cold ... it's that something else is coming. Plenty of time it's cold and you know it won't snow.
-- I hope it snows.
-- Went for a walk on Boulevard East tonight. Mooned about, staring at the city I love so well - and it was catching the last dying gleams of sunset, so there were some spectacular effects.
-- And above: you realize why some writers (I think Lucy Maud Montgomery uses it quite a bit) refers to wintry clouds as "ranks of clouds". That's what was happening in the sky. Ranks of dark heavy clouds ... overlapping each other ... moving in. There was a clear sunset, but the ranks approached. It was so beautiful!
-- And so windy that all of the flags along the memorial parks (Hamilton Park, dontcha know, but all the others) - were standing straight out, full-sail into the wind. Cold! It was totally exhilarating.
-- One of the things I love about where I live (and when I think of moving, I actually get a pang of anxiety about not having this at my fingertips anymore) - is having that skyline ever-present, visible whenever you look east - sometimes just the tip-top of the Empire State Building - but it's always there. I'm obsessed with the city, and I always have been, and I am so thankful that I live in a place where I am outside the city - and can actually see it as a whole. I can look from Battery Park to Washington Heights. I never get sick of it.
-- Despite the cold wind and the fact that night was falling, the park was packed. It always is. That's another wonderful thing about where I live. It's a place where families go and hang out in parks to watch the sunset ... and it's a really nice community feeling. Every day almost a couple gets married and has their wedding photos taken in Hamilton Park, with the backdrop of the city shimmering like Oz. A bride and groom were out there tonight, her veil standing literally straight out behind her, because the wind was so strong.
-- As the sun set, the gleam left the buildings, and they subsided into more prosaic shadows. But man. That "magic hour". You can't believe what the skyline looks like! It lasts for, oh, 15 minutes - TOPS. You have to catch it at juuust the right moment - and everything leaps into fiery redness, becomes translucent, optical illusions reflecting the sunset - it's so stunning.
-- Once "magic hour" ended, I walked down to the southern end of the street to visit Alexander Hamilton. To wish him a happy birthday. You can see his bust in stark silhouette as you approach - perched on the edge of what looks like an abyss of air. It's just so ... pleasing to me. The beauty and right-ness (for me) of where I live right now.
-- I've lived here since 2003 ("the end of an era"), but I'm still not "over" it. I mean, I'm "over it" - but I'm not "over" the views at the end of my street, and the pleasing aesthetics of Boulevard East. It makes me happy for community planning, and nice sidewalks, and old-fashioned lampposts - that work ... and war memorials, and nice cast-iron benches where you can sit on to rest ... and plenty of platforms with unobstructed views of the city ... It's just an awesome stretch of road.
-- And yeah. I can still smell snow.
Some pics (of course) of my walk below the jump.
Magic Hour gleam
The park
Bust of Alexander Hamilton, and the sweep of New York harbor - the "ranks of clouds" ... I don't know. I think this one came out pretty darn good.
Happy birthday, AH.
January 11, 2008
Special Ops is glad ...
... that it is raining.
... that this week is almost over. Enough, already. (Except for Avenue Q. Special Ops is tremendously grateful for having escaped a bit into the wonderful Avenue Q) Special Ops feels that the week she has had actually shows on her face.
... that she has an engrossing book of Stalin to take up her time and mental energy. The revolution is breaking out now in St. Petersberg. It's awesome reading and Special Ops is taking notes. In her special "Stalin notebook". Special Ops realizes she's a little bit crazy. But her information on Stalin must be collated and collected in one place. For future use. You know. Like this.
... that she has nothing to do tonight but go home and recover from this week - which has felt like it was actually 10 years long.
... that there is thunder in the sky.
January 7, 2008
Snapshots from the weekend
-- Rented Zodiac. It's fantastic - just as good as everyone says. See it.
-- Had another one of my 700 dollar hair cuts and colors on Saturday (only, you know, I got it for free, cause of the whole stylist connection). I got to visit my dear long-lost love Mohammad, whom I have mentioned before - who again - gave me the best scalp massage I have literally ever received when he washed my hair. I melted into a puddle of butter on the salon floor. How come when I massage my own scalp it doesn't feel like that? The eternal question.
-- I took a very weird nap on Saturday - from 5 to 7:30. ?? Then I fell asleep at 11:30 pm and slept all the way through until 9:30 a.m. This is interesting to no one but me, I realize. I obsess over my sleep. What does it mean, what signals is it given me ... I NEVER nap. And I almost never over-sleep. Tired. Exhausted (up in the head).
-- Watched Something's Gotta Give on Saturday night, after my weird nap. Loved it as much as I always do. Cried my 100,000th tear of the week. Honestly. When will it end. But like I said to David Something's Gotta Give was good tears. Cathartic, rather than ... well. The other kind of crying.
-- I'm trying to figure out what I want to read this year. I have a TBR book stack a mile long. Books carried over from not only last yeaer but 3rd grade. I have 2 books from Lisa for my birthday that I am dying to read - I started them over Christmas, but then got distracted from them because it was hard to read that Christmas week. More to be read: I think I'm finally going to read War and Peace. I need at least ONE massive project-book a year, and I think this year it's gonna be that one. Either that or Stendahl, but I'm leaning towards W&P. I also want to finish (finally) Thomas Carlyle's turgid dramatic (and ultimately: AWESOME) history of the French Revolution. I've been making my way through it for about 3 years now and I'm only at the storming of the Bastille. But I swear to God- it's so dense that I can honestly only read 2 or 3 pages at a time. For example:
But now finally the Sun, on Monday the 4th of May, has risen;--unconcerned, as if it were no special day. And yet, as his first rays could strike music from the Memnon's Statue on the Nile, what tones were these, so thrilling, tremulous of preparation and foreboding, which he awoke in every bosom at Versailles! Huge Paris, in all conceivable and inconceivable vehicles, is pouring itself forth; from each Town and Village come subsidiary rills; Versailles is a very sea of men. But above all, from the Church of St. Louis to the Church of Notre-Dame: one vast suspended-billow of Life,--with spray scattered even to the chimney-pots! For on chimney- tops too, as over the roofs, and up thitherwards on every lamp-iron, sign- post, breakneck coign of vantage, sits patriotic Courage; and every window bursts with patriotic Beauty: for the Deputies are gathering at St. Louis Church; to march in procession to Notre-Dame, and hear sermon.Yes, friends, ye may sit and look: boldly or in thought, all France, and all Europe, may sit and look; for it is a day like few others. Oh, one might weep like Xerxes:--So many serried rows sit perched there; like winged creatures, alighted out of Heaven: all these, and so many more that follow them, shall have wholly fled aloft again, vanishing into the blue Deep; and the memory of this day still be fresh. It is the baptism-day of Democracy; sick Time has given it birth, the numbered months being run. The extreme-unction day of Feudalism! A superannuated System of Society, decrepit with toils (for has it not done much; produced you, and what ye have and know!)--and with thefts and brawls, named glorious-victories; and with profligacies, sensualities, and on the whole with dotage and senility,--is now to die: and so, with death-throes and birth-throes, a new one is to be born. What a work, O Earth and Heavens, what a work! Battles and bloodshed, September Massacres, Bridges of Lodi, retreats of Moscow, Waterloos, Peterloos, Tenpound Franchises, Tarbarrels and Guillotines;--and from this present date, if one might prophesy, some two centuries of it still to fight! Two centuries; hardly less; before Democracy go through its due, most baleful, stages of Quackocracy; and a pestilential World be burnt up, and have begun to grow green and young again.
Read the passage again. And then read it again. The ENTIRE BOOK is like that. Every page a lament of horror, a cry for justice, a howl of grief - in that type of language. You never get a break. It is a deep rich historical pool - full of terrifying Dante's Inferno images ... anyway. But still. It is slow-going, man! I am determined to finish it.
-- I've got some political books I'm reading. The more strident the better. I have been so ... well, whatever. I can't take introspective writing right now. I'll move in that direction again ... but for now, I need to hear some screams of outrage - from both political parties. Even if I think those who are screaming have screws loose all over the damn place, I find their frenzy strangely comforting. It's refreshing to be around stupid people sometimes.
-- When I'm ready to leave the shrieking politicos behind, I'm going to re-read James Salter's Sport and a Pastime - his book Light Years is one of my favorite books, and Larry's recent (and eloquent) post on Salter's memoir made me yearn to pick up Salter again. It's been years. If you haven't encountered Salter, I highly recommend him. He's a master.
-- A couple pictures I have always loved below the jump.
Paul Newman in class at The Actors Studio
Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward, newlyweds
October 21, 2007
Snapshots
-- did all my car organization stuff yesterday. Well, not all. I still need to get an E-Z pass and a resident permit which I will do on Monday when the town clerk office opens.
-- came home and puttered about. I'm still sick (yes, I know - it's this cough that will not go away. Calling the doctor on Monday, this is ridiculous - I've been sick since New Mexico) - so I was feeling kind of tired even though I still had a lot to do. I'm not a napper, but at around 2 pm I thought - let me just lie down for a minute. I woke up at 7 pm. I mean, come ON. A lost day. I've just not been well. Nothing is touching this cough - no matter what I take.
-- turned on the radio, getting ready for Game 6. But first I listened to Prairie Home Companion - just lay in bed, listening - I love Prairie Home Companion. It's so soothing.
-- Then the game. It would have been nice to SEE the game, but I still love listening to baseball games on the radio. It's strictly old-school. Cheering and clapping by myself in my apartment. Onto game 7.
September 21, 2007
snapshots
-- I love Judge Judy. Desperately. I want her to approve of my life choices.
-- Not as much as I love Bret Michaels and Rock of Love. I think that Rock of Love is the best show on television. Ever. It's a high water mark of unbelievableness. I have fierce opinions about everyone involved, I am totally engrossed, and I must watch it as often as I can. Doesn't matter if it's a rerun. I watch it again. I think I need to own the entire series. So I can dip into that glorious pool whenever I want to. And believe me. I will want to. "Will you stay in this house and continue to rock my world?" WHAT???? it is GENIUS. I think he and Heather are soulmates. I really do. Lacey can cry her crocodile tears all she wants. It won't make a damn bit of difference. At least I hope it won't! Jess seems way too sane to really be Bret's girl. But Heather is as nuts as Bret is. It's a match made in heaven. Go, Heather!!
-- I've been sick for the last 2 days. Every month when I get my period, there's a day where I think: "It has NEVER been this bad before." And then it passes, and my female mind willfully forgets it until the next month. I was in agony last night. I reiterate: it has never been as bad as it was last night. It's still pretty bad today but last night was the nadir.
-- While I was in agony, I sat down and read the entirety of this - which I do on occasion when I need some damn fine writing, as well as a laugh-out-loud funny read. It doesn't matter how much I've read it ... certain sentences still pierce through the glaze of familiarity and I find myself literally GUFFAWING at my laptop. Bless you, Ali, for the funny!!! I saw her do her one-woman show of that material and she is just as funny in person. Great stuff.
-- My feet are all messed up. Again. I'm feeling very OFF, physically.
-- Meeting with my trainer tomorrow morning at 10:30. I'm dreading it. I have gained 20 pounds in the last 2 days from water retention alone. I feel horrific.
-- Rachel was describing to me, tonight, a restaurant she loved - where she recently had dinner with her husband. "It's like college food. You know. Every sandwich has avocado in it."
-- My days have been really long recently. Long and busy. I'm exhausted when I finally get my ass home. The weekends are a black hole of nonproductivity. I am going to try to change that this weekend.
-- Because of a favor I did recently for the assistant of a celebrity hairstylist (that is indeed his job description) - she's arranged for me to have a cut and color at his salon in New York (NOT the one in Beverly Hills!) - gratis. As a thank you for what I did for her (and him). What she is offering me would probably end up costing about 700 bucks all togehter but it's going to be free for me (I will still, however, tip everyone and anyone who touches my hair during my time there!). So I am kind of terrified of going to this salon - terrified as I always am by anything truly high-end - I'm such a proletariat - but the conversation in my head at this point is an interesting one, something to be duly noted. Am I not worth it? Is she not giving this to me out of a true sense of gratitude? Why do I feel ashamed about it? And slightly guilty? A truly odd state of affairs. It was the kind of situation too where she offered it to me and then it took me 2 weeks to get up the nerve to take her up on it. ??? So weird. I sent her a shamefaced email today: "Uhm ... if the offer still stands ..." She emails me back immediately: "I thought you'd never ask!!!!!!! Just say when!!!!!!!" (Her emails are always like that. I love her.) I say a time that might work for me, but give her a HUGE opening to say back, "Well, that is celeb stylist's busiest day ... can you pick another day?" This is what I expect from life. Barriers at every step of the way. Small ones, but barriers - one that intimidate, and say, "You are not in THIS club." This is what I expect. Instead, I hear back from her: "You pick the time!!!! Whenever!" So I did. And that's that. I find myself strangely moved to tears by the entire experience.
-- If anyone makes a comment tut-tutting the frivolousness of anyone spending 700 dollars on a haircut, it will mean you have missed the point entirely.
-- I was on the bus the other morning, coming into the city. The traffic was unusually bad. We were in a dead standstill in the Lincoln Tunnel and it was all I could do to not go postal. We were underneath the Hudson. Stuck. I'm not really a claustrophobic person, but any kind of gridlock coming into the city is always kind of stressful - and brings up memories of 9/11 for me. Especially being UNDER the water. And not moving. For HALF AN HOUR. It was unbelievable. Turns out a car had stalled on the New York side - right at the exit to the tunnel - and backed up traffic all the way into freakin' Newark practically. But we had no updates, no nothing ... just stasis. I couldn't do anything about my situation ... nothing I could do ... so I had on my iPod, and I tried to just zone out as much as i could. I tried to focus on Bleak House - unsuccessfully. I had iPod on shuffle and suddenly out of nowhere ... I heard my own voice. A duet I recorded years ago. I never listen to it anymore, it's from another time and place. So sitting there, underneath the river, I resisted the impulse to click "Next" and listened. Listened to my own voice singing. I sounded so YOUNG. That was my first response. So YOUNG and actually kind of fierce! I surprised myself. Certain nuances and notes and details ... I enjoyed the harmony - it brought a smile to myself - it brought pleasure - after all these years. But god, what an odd sensation. An echo ... coming up through the years ... my own voice ... I can see where I was, what I was wearing when we recorded it (a long black skirt, a blue t-shirt, and a blue bandanna round my head), what I was LIKE then ... I could hear it all in my voice. Who was that girl? And the weird thing, is I know the end of that story. The girl singing didn't know the end. She was in the middle of it. I can hear her oblivion in her voice, the clear tones of positive hope and belief. It wasn't as depressing as I'm making it sound, but it sure was strange.
September 8, 2007
snapshots
-- I rarely dream anymore. I used to have vivid crazy dreams, and I kept a daily dream journal - but that all stopped about 10 years ago. 2 nights ago I had a dream - that woke me up at around 2 am - and it was so awful that I honestly have not felt quite right since. I used to miss my dreams - but not dreams like THAT. I think it might have been the worst dream I've ever had. Not because it was scary. But because it was psychologically shattering. I'm still not "back together". Careful what you wish for. i don't want to dream if I have to have dreams like THAT.
-- Slowly but surely making my way thru Bleak House. Loving it. Not too much time to read these days.
-- I am missing people right now. I feel like I miss everyone. So to everyone I know? Consider yourself missed.
-- Things I am interested in right now: Montenegro, the new iPods, no-hitters, LASIK, Provincetown, HTML, the desert, Eugene O'Neill's early plays, the psychology of riots and the behavior of crowds.
-- Things I love: Pacifica French Lilac body butter, how my biceps are changing, Dunkin Donuts iced coffee, second-hand stories about Cashel's first day of school, getting emails from friends and family, having crushes - the kind that can't ever hurt me, my Quantum Leap collection, the way my books are lined up, autumn, Joan Didion, my magic wand (TM), Howard Hawks, the raucous laughter of Jimmy Fallon, running into friends on the streets of New York, pesto, full moons, Ben Gay, my Nag Champa, the look of the Chrysler Building at night
-- I'm working on something this week that has kept me frazzled and insane - and at times I get so nuts about it that when I look in the mirror I see a big blotchy red flush on my neck and collarbone. I can't sleep much - I have been taking a car service home at night (I just got home from today's marathon - I am writing this at 11:45 at night) - and I like sitting in the quiet plush air-conditioning as we approach the Lincoln Tunnel, and I like laughing with my driver about how psychic the GPS dude is. "You will take a right in 300 yards." intones the polite GPS dude. Laughter "Oh my God - he is so right ON!" I say. GPS man is a stalker. He knows EXACTLY where I live. My mind races. I am consumed. It is all I can do to remind myself to go pee when I need to, and deal with plummeting blood sugar at key moments. I won't sleep tonight. But if I do ...
-- no more dreams, thank you.
-- keep this in mind and try to sleep well:
... or try to sleep at all.
August 11, 2007
snapshots
-- Reading Game of Shadows at last. I've had it ever since it came out - but now is the time to read it- what with the whole career homerun brou-haha that's going on right now. I won't even type his name because I still get occasional hate mail from the piece I wrote about him in 2003 when I called him a racist. I stand by that remark, but I don't want the psychos bothering me anymore. I took the old post down but people still find it thru Google cache. It sucks. Being a racist is the least of his issues - but whatevs. I can't put the book down, by the way. (Gladwell blogs about it here. I've been on a renewed Malcolm Gladwell kick ... spurred on by my conversation with David the other night.)
-- There is nothing I like better these days than to hang out on Quantum Leap fan sites and message boards. I love all of those people. I've still only re-watched season 1 and season 2 - (I mean, since they were first on) ... so I'm excited to keep going. I love the show. And the "leapers", as they call themselves, are a passionate bunch, I tell ya. I fit right in.
-- Cashel, Siobhan and I stood by the side of the road and watched the parachuters filling the air from the hovering helilcopters. It was pretty cool. Like the beginning of Red Dawn. Cashel filmed it. He seemed pleased with his footage.
-- Laughed so hard in the car with Jean and Siobhan that I thought I would die from lack of oxygen. I was in the middle of telling a story and boom. The laughter hit. They had to wait for me to stop HOWLING - but it took FOREVER. It had to do with Little Shop of Horrors and renting the video back when we were kids.
-- the following article fascinated me, for various personal reasons I won't go into. Really interesting.
-- Music listened to in the car so far: Timbaland, High School Musical, LEO (a genius goofball rock-opera idea - a takeoff on ELO - by 3 dudes we all LOVE), Little Shop of Horrors, Grace Potter, Dr. Dre, Mike Viola singing Paul Simon's "American Tune" (my God), and then a segue to Paul Simon (natural progression). Oh and I listened to Queens of the Stone Age and also Olivia Newton-John.
-- Great night out with David before I took off. Spur of the moment. Topics covered: kickboxing, the Dalai Lama, neuroscience, facial expressions and Paul Ekman, auditions and the agony thereof in some cases, Law & Order vs. Wal-Mart - agony!!, leaping off the Olympic diving board at his public pool and that whole experience, breakthrus in perception in regards to reality, masturbation, Patrick Hughes, the Red Sox, Dean Stockwell in Psych-Out (hm, who brought that one up?), acting, growing older, marriage, sex, liquor ... I'm not even coming CLOSE to scraping the surface of what we talked about. It was awesome - a well-needed touching base.
August 8, 2007
Good good things
-- Met with trainer. She kicked my ass. There were times when it was like the chest-waxing scene in 40-year-old virgin. I cursed her out. But she upped the weights - and I made it through. Gaining strength every week. Again with the tomato head. And the wet wet hair.
-- We went over my food chart. She totally approves of what I'm doing. Gave me some tips on breakfast.
-- I've lost 4 pounds. whoo- hoo!!!
-- I am about to watch Anchors Aweigh - again, a movie I have seen countless times - I think the first time I saw it was when I was 6 or 7 at my cousins. And, naturally, it is Dean Stockwell's movie debut. He's 9 years old. And so adorable that you want to lie down in a warm bath and open your veins to acquire a quick and ecstatic death.
See?
-- Another kickboxing class tomorrow.
-- I am all about my body right now. I can FEEL it ... (my body, I mean) ... it aches, it throbs, it's alive. I am so so grateful.
-- Anchors Aweigh!!
July 27, 2007
Snapshots
-- spent afternoon at Apple store. Wonderful, lovely, I love it there. Got some crap I need, and returned some crap I don't. (Uhm, Nano? hahahaha)
-- watched a werewolf movie starring Dean Stockwell last night. It's brill. Cheesy-brill.
Filmed in the early 70s with that gritty docu-drama feel, with everyone in Peter Pan collars and bad haircuts and droopy toga-esque dresses. A political satire mainly - but watching Dean Stockwell morph, against his will, into a howling wolf during a high-powered meeting with serious-minded people who do not know he is a werewolf - was one of the highlights of my week. I had to order my own copy immediately, and will do a shot by shot analysis for this blog when I receive it.
-- the main joke of the week is (and it must be shouted): "YOU ARE A SEDUCE!". I can't even really explain the genesis of the joke but seriously - we have not worn it out yet. It has proven to have SO much mileage. And it can be used in so many different situations. You can use it to give someone a begrudging bit of praise. "YOU ARE A SEDUCE, damn you ..." Or you can use it purely as an epithet. "YOU ARE A SEDUCE!" You can use it as a "snap out of it" command to a friend you know can do better. "YOU ARE A SEDUCE!" I was at the grocery store last night, shopping, and thought of "YOU ARE A SEDUCE!" and started cracking up. I adore it.
-- The "YOU ARE A SEDUCE" joke reminds me of another obscure and long-lasting joke: "Es no 'ee. Oo say Drak". And that reminds me of another longer lasting joke: "Tell 'em Mrs. Barney sent ya ..." These are posts I will write next week:
1. "'Es no 'ee. Oo say Drak"
2. Mrs. Barney. (I can't believe I never wrote about Mrs. Barney!)
3. The joy of Werewolf of Washington
Oh, the joy. The joy of the joke that keeps on giving!
YOU ARE A SEDUCE!
July 14, 2007
Snapshots
-- A HUGE shoutout to Mark, for upgrading Movable Type for me. I owe you big-time. My trackback function works again - as well as my "activity log". Thank you!!
-- The heat wave broke. Thank God. I feel like a human being again.
-- Re-read Bridge to Terabithia in a day this week. Cried all over again. What a wonderful book. The part where the father - who has been kind of cold and grumpy throughout - picks his boy up in his arms like a small baby ... Okay, I'm crying now just typing this.
-- Updated: New pictures
-- I'm in 2 musical phases right now: Eartha Kitt and Metallica. (Metallica is usually a constant - so that's not really a "phase" - but regardless, my lack of desire to listen to anybody other than Eartha freakin Kitt (what??) and Metallica has become so strong that I have made a playlist of only alternating Eartha and Metallica songs. It has to be the weirdest playlist in history.)
-- I'm gonna be working all day today and playing all night.
-- This gesture of Dean Stockwell's below. Sort of cupping his chin with his hand, one finger up over his face, smushing in the skin, a deep in thought gesture ... It shows up in pretty much any picture he's made. Gesture consistency throughout decades of life. Makes me wonder if I have any gesture that has not changed, that I have been doing since I was 7. He does it still (only now he usually has a cigar in the right hand).
Age 11, Gentlemans Agreement
Age 50-something, Quantum Leap
Also, just have to say - in regards to the picture below, the smile, etc. - maybe the hairline is different, maybe he has wrinkles now - but he pretty much looks exactly the same, as far as I'm concerned. Some people change drastically from their childhood face - you can barely tell it is them. Maybe cause he wasn't a precocious actor-y mannered little kid - you know those little actor kids who seem like mini grownups and somehow unreal? Or like obnoxious little show-offs? He didn't have that ever. He always seemed real, like a real little boy.
But still - his face itself hasn't changed. He is recognizably Dean Stockwell in that shot. Like - same face as here - it's just 40 years earlier. I love that.
(I realize I'm kinda OCD about Stockwell right now. I am not embarrassed.)
June 27, 2007
Snapshots
-- It's annoyingly hot. The heat makes me feel fat and grubby. The subway is particularly awful, and I have to grit my teeth to NOT say to people who brush up against me, 'Do you mind?' My aversion to crowds is especially interesting considering where I have chosen to live. I do not mind crowds in the winter. I find them bracing then. But in the summer, I am one step away from going postal at every moment.
-- I just signed another year's lease, which is an odd sensation because of all of my other plans I had a mere 2 months ago, which involved upheaval and change. Well, I've still got the upheaval and change - it's just that it's happening in New York now for the time being, and I have to be here. I had been living in my apartment looking around, calculating how long it would take to transfer everything into boxes - and I even got started, took down pictures, boxed up some books ... and now I'm still here. I think I might leave the stuff in boxes, though. To remind myself of that other plan, which is still a good one. Can't ever get too complacent.
-- I seriously cannot imagine my life without Nag Champa incense. I get NERVOUS when I run out.
-- After finishing Veronica, I decided to go with something a bit lighter - and I'm in a fiction phase - so I picked up Elinor Lipman's The Pursuit of Alice Thrift. Elinor Lipman is a wonderful writer - one of those rare rare writers who can make me laugh out loud - and I'll be posting more about her.
-- Speaking of books, here are two funny related stories. Years ago, Allison and I were sitting in a loud music club - so loud we had to scream - and I was telling her about Philip Gourevitch's amazing We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will be Killed With Our Families. I was shouting about it in her ear. She was into it, excited to read it. Later in the night, we came back to it - when she said, obviously intending to buy it, "Now - what was that book you mentioned? Please Forgive Me But I am About to be Murdered In Front of my Mother?" I still shake with laughter when I remember that. And she wasn't being snarky - she truly did not remember the title, and that was her best shot. And then last week, after my two posts about Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro - she called me. "So tell me about this book!!" I raved about it to her. And then this past weekend, she went to the bookstore across the street from her apartment and said to the clerk, "Hi - I'm looking for a book and it's by the guy who wrote Remains of the Day and it's called .... Never Push Me Off the Cliff??" Again, she wasn't snarking - she was trying to remember and that was her best shot. I am guffawing. hahahahahahaha The clerk was like, "Uhm, never heard of that ... " Too funny. But she now has it - and she's tearing through it!
-- I've got Rio Bravo to watch tonight. And Paris, Texas to watch tomorrow night. And a shitload of work to do between the two movies. It's good to have bookends.
May 8, 2007
Snapshots
See below
By the dawn's early light.
Ruben - I think you need to check out what's on my fridge.
A baby bag.
I used to live on the second floor - my window is the one with the fire escape outside it, behind the tree. I lived there from 2000 - 2001. Horrifying.
So bizarre.
Contrast.
May 2, 2007
snapshots
-- Thunder last night. Rain.
-- Movies, writing, movies, writing.
-- I'm lonely right now. I am missing a lot of people. I miss my friends, all of them, and Cashel. I am alone too much. I'm busy, that's good, but lonely too. I miss my parents too.
-- Movies, writing, movies, writing.
-- My apartment looks like a bomb hit it. I'm using it basically as a pit-stop right now ... and I need to have a good long organizational/cleaning purge but it won't be for a week or so. I just don't have the energy or the time right now.
-- I read the novel We Need to Talk About Kevin in 2 days. In the wake of VT massacre, it ended up being chillingly timely. My God. What a book. What a writer. I am totally in awe. I'll write more about her - but it's rare that I can't put down a novel. Like - I fell asleep on Saturday night with the book open in my hands. I needed sleep, but I couldn't stop reading. UnbeLIEVable book.
-- Saw The Third Man last night. I've been seeing so many movies that the thought now of seeing a movie in my one night off was almost ikky - but then I got into it. It was a rainy night, I was exhausted, and book-less. I love Joseph Cotten. God, he's good. And I am certainly not the first to say it - but Orson Welles' entrance in this film is one of the best (if not the best) entrances of any character in any movie ever made. PERIOD.
-- I hurt myself on the bus last night. A metal bar stuck out of the ripped upholstery of the seat (the bus is so damn ghetto), and I, exhaustedly, threw myself into the seat, and stabbed my own butt cheek with the sharp metal. It didn't break the skin - or rip my clothes - thank God - I would have had to go to the hospital - but it hurt like a motherfucker. Damn ghetto bus. My entire left ass-cheek is black and blue and a sickly green right now. I'm so bummed. Literally.
-- Saw Grey Gardens again last week. Went with my sister Siobhan. It was great - a real indulgence - and great to see her and catch up.
-- I need to go back to Rhode Island. I miss my friends, my family.
-- I need to get back into exercising. I'm too busy right now and I feel bad about it - kind of out of control.
-- Marvelous post. God, I so relate. That's an amazing blog in general. I love her voice.
-- It's a funny thing, talking about love with somebody who interrogates people for a living. It gives the conversation a clarity and an urgency that it might not otherwise have. His assessment, after 45 minutes of questioning me and listening intently to my answers? "I think you need to dumb down." I am still laughing about that.
-- Stopped off at the Virgin Megastore in Times Square last night - a place I normally avoid like the plague - but I wanted to pick up the new Tori Amos. Ne-yo was downstairs, signing copies of his new CD - and there was a screaming crowd, cordoned off, waiting in line ... waves of screams emanating up the escalator. Found Tori and then saw a huge display of soundtracks. Started browsing and saw the soundtrack of the film Jesus Christ Superstar - which I had had on tape - and it never made the transfer to CD ... and suddenly I realized how much I NEEDED it. It was 40 bucks. Ouch. But I bought it anyway. I came home and listened to some of it, as the thunder rolled in the sky. I am so excited to have it in my life again. "Damned For All Time". "Just DON'T say I'm ... daaaaaaaa-aaaaaamned foooooo-or a-aaalll ti-ime ..." Goosebumps.
-- Ann Marie was in town this past weekend for 2 days and I was so busy I couldn't see her. sniff.
-- Screening tonight at 10:30 p.m. I think David is going to be there - a mutual friend of ours is in the film - and actually, Mitchell came to town as of yesterday - so he might come to the screening too. That would be my only chance to see him.
-- My dear friend Kate is in tech this week for Arcadia - opening at the Court in Chicago next week. I've been thinking a lot about her. Missing her, too. I want to try to get out there in the next month or so, to visit friends, but also to see Arcadia. It's been a while since I saw her act. Too long.
More actual snapshots below
It's awesome when you live on the edge of gang territory.
Sunday. 7-4. A 20 minute pitstop to check the score, in between Kapuscinski and my 2nd movie of the day.
Making fun of Tucker Carlson never gets old. It is one of our new favorite activities.
Under the highway.
Colony Music. Heaven on earth.
Pitstop # 854.
Tribeca.
Spectacular spectacular. (Oh, and happy birthday Empire State Building.)
En route.
What we do when we are bored. And there is a dry erase marker in the vicinity.
April 9, 2007
Saturday night snapshots
-- Jean: "So you take a left on Hemlock .... as in .............Socrates ..."
-- Brian, the birthday boy, got yet another tattoo, in honor of his big day. His favorite beer is Miller Lite - so he got the freakin' bar code for Miller Lite tattooed on his side. He kept saying, "I can't wait to see if it scans ..." You can't wait to see if it scans? I can't wait to see if it scans. Can you imagine some checkout person at Stop & Shop trying to scan his side? The tattoo still had the big gauze patch over it - but I got to peek. And there it was. Genius.
-- There was a larger than life size papier-mache R2-D2 in the corner. Made by Brian on his 2 days off. He said to Jean, kind of matter of factly, "Yeah, the feet are made of pizza boxes ..."
-- Red Sox. A bunch of us standing around in the garage, looking up at the television. Or a bunch of us sitting around in the dark living room, looking at the television there. Wherever you were in the house, the Red Sox game could be seen.
-- Booming voice from behind us: "What is so weird about my socks?" Turned around to see Ryan - with rolled-up pants - showing us his sock garters. It was just so funny because nobody had noticed his big entrance into the room - because we were all staring at the television. But he had obviously gone into his room, put on his funny socks to show to us, and stalked out into the main room ... and so had to just shout at us to get our attention, as though we had seen him come in and said to him, "Wow, your socks are weird."
-- This was on top of the fridge.
-- Ryan had made a bunny cake for Brian's birthday (and for Easter too, I suppose). Pink coconut - with chocolate ears - and little candies as eyes - seriously, the thought of Ryan making that cake - the detail that went into it - and also, if you could see what Ryan looks like ... to picture him making this sweet little bunny birthday cake for Brian's birthday ... and also Brian, too - who is so not a fluffy pink-coconut bunny type of guy - it's one of the funniest most incongrous images ever. We couldn't stop staring at the cake. It was almost as though it were alive. A quiet watching pink-coconut-ed presence on the counter.
-- Candles lit ... the cake was brought out to the garage, where a secondary party had convened ... Brian (tattoo notwithstanding) didn't like to make a big deal about his birthday (way too late. There's a pink fluffy bunny cake with your name on it comin' towards ya ...) - so as everyone crowded into the garage, singing "Happy birthday" - he protested, "Come on, you guys ... it's Jesus's day!" So then someone began to sing "O Come All Ye Faithful" immediately - and it caught on - and the entire crowd of people, all holding cigarettes, or beer bottles, joined in. "JOYFUL AND TRIUMPHANT, O COME YE O CO-OME YE TO BETHLEHEM ..." I love crazy people. I am one of them, so I feel so happy when I am around my own insane kind.
-- Someone had brought a capgun to the party. Hijinx ensued. One guy (who seriously is one of the funniest people I've ever met ... Like - the funny NEVER stops with him.) - anyway, he did not want to let the cap gun go. He was shooting everything. He shot the television during the 9th inning. He shot people in the balls, with a blase air, a la Indiana Jones with the knife-wielding Bedouin in Raiders. Like - he wouldn't even look at his target, just hold out his arm and "BAM". At first I would jump when I heard the cap gun - but by the end of the party, I was totally over it - since the sound became so constant. Oh whatever, there's a gun going off. Yawn. Best Moment: He kind of went a little bit nuts in the crowded kitchen - shooting up at the ceiling - over and over and over, with this truly insane googly-eyed look of bliss on his face .... and the air filled with the burnt smell of the cap-gun - He held the plastic gun up to his nose, took a long rapturous sniff, and sighed happily, "Ahhhhhhhhhhh .... smells like middle school."
-- Huge backyard. Darkness, salty air - the ocean is right down the street. Fire pit over in the corner, people sitting around it in lawn chairs. It was chilly - early spring weather. Sparks from the fire flew up into the black.
-- Jean called out to Ryan as he walked by, "Ryan - sing Danny Boy for my sister!" Without missing a beat, Ryan - he of the sock-garters - stopped, turned and began to bellow in a beautiful baritone (complete with Irish accent) the lyrics (all incorrect) to Danny Boy. I just loved how he was on his way somewhere else - the request from Jean came shouting in - and boom, he stopped, opened his mouth and began, "Oh Danny Boy - my mother's grass is dying - up to the trees - and down to glen and dale ..." It was like: NONE of the lyrics were right. Hilarious!!
-- Everyone talking about Dice K.
March 20, 2007
Snapshots
-- There's something wonderfully incongrous about the melty spring weather and the sight of ice skaters at Rockefeller Center.
-- I was reading Scoop (by Evelyn Waugh) on the train today and started GUFFAWING at the whole scene where there's a one-night-only Communist Revolution in Ishmaelia. I think this is one of the funniest books I've ever read. I put it down for a while because I started reading two other books - one about the carpet-makers in ancient Persia and one about the tribal divisions in Darfur. Awesome light reading, as you can see. A laugh riot those Tunjur and Masalit! They're all such cards. I had started Scoop a while back and immediately fell in love with it. Absolutely hilarious send-up of journalism. Genius. I'll post some excerpts later.
-- Congratulations, Jackie! WHOO-HOO!!!
-- Meeting David tonight for drinks. I rarely say this - but I sure could use a drink today.
-- On the treadmill today at the gym. My iPod was blaring but I was also watching the Maury Povich show - which was on one of the TV screens in my view. I wasn't really watching it at first, but eventually I found myself sucked into the melodrama. It was some paternity test show, which at first horrified and disgusted me. I found myself thinking, as I pounded away up my incline, "Girls, there's this little thing called birth control. It is an AWESOME invention. It is not infallible, no, and there can be mistakes - but you really should use it ANYway. Just a tip." I was scowling at the TV, disturbed by the histrionics, the self-righteous shouting of the teen moms, the slouching baby-daddys who want NO part of the baby had by the ho he can't even remember. I JUDGED Maury Povich for hosting such a disgraceful show. And then by the end, whaddyaknow, I was in tears because that one couple really seemed to love each other, and they had broken up and gotten back together ... and she had a baby ... and they weren't sure whose it was ... and he was crying about how he loved her, and he would love the baby anyway, and she was crying with mascara streaks coming down, and she looked kind of pretty even with the unfortunate gap-tooth, and I felt that they loved each other, and I wanted it to work for them, HE was no baby daddy, he was a stand-up guy!, and when they found out the baby WAS his - the two of them jumped up and down, hugging and kissing and carrying on, and I - who had been a TOWERING scowl of judgment 2 seconds earlier, succumbed, and wiped tears of happiness off my face, careening along into my 20th minute on the treadmill, as the Maury credits began to roll. Shameless television manipulation and I participated in it fully. At first against my will, and then wholeheartedly. My stern judgment of the whole thing was no match for the likes of Maury Povich. I caved! Because they loved each other and yay, he was the baby's daddy! Yay!
-- Then I went and had a sauna so I could calm the fuck down.
-- I was in an elevator with Mike Tyson today. Just me and him. His head is huge and it morphs into a massive neck without any indentation whatsoever. The head/neck is wider than my entire body. It's HUGE. I mean, I knew he was huge but to see it in person really brought it all home. He had on a dark suit, dark glasses, and he smelled fantastic.
March 12, 2007
Weekend snapshots
-- I washed my walls. They are a lovely pale yellow color and I was horrified at how black my damn Melaleuca cloth was when I was done. City air. Filthy. Invisible and filthy. Horrors. I cleaned like a whirling dervish. I scrubbed, I mopped, I scoured, I went insane.
-- The weather was spring-like, heart-crackingly so. I could open the windows to air out my main room - and sunshine streamed in, birds hopped about, and I could hear the screams of kids from a nearby playground.
-- I watched 20th Century at one point - taking a break - and laughed my ass off. The first scene alone is nonstop hilarity. I LOVE that first scene. John Barrymore is so. freakin' funny ... and Carole Lombard's not so bad either. But it's Barrymore for me that is really the funny one, which is hysterical since he was known as a great tragedian. But Howard Hawks asked him to take that tragic-actor sensibility - and use it in service of a screwball comedy - and it just WORKS. My favorite part of his performance is how he reacts to things. He listens to people talk, and as he responds - his body will jolt, he'll gasp, he'll gesture - it's like every single word from the other person's mouth is hurting or thrilling him personally ... It's like electric jolts of surprise are always jabbing at him. I was seriously crying during that first scene, when he's losing it, and being so melo-dramatic (and yet, for this guy - it's just real life - he's not being melodramatic - That is his personality) - and Lombard becoming more and more frayed at the edges, trying to please him ... Barrymore is hilarious. I love that movie.
-- I went to the new gym that opened up down the hill from me. It is deluxe! Much better than the raggedy-ann third-world-era one I normally go to. There are skylights - it's on the 2nd floor of a 2 story building - and the gym itself is lined with transom windows - and they all were open - and the place just had this airy breezy feel to it that I really liked. Not too many people know it's opened yet - so it wasn't too packed - and I had the steam room all to myself.
-- I bought 20 bucks worth of incense. I am not well.
-- I bought the microdermabrasion kit that Oil of Olay just came out with it - and did it on Saturday night. I see no difference, actually. But then again, my skin is the only flawless thing about me. Wouldn't change a thing. (Just thought maybe it could look better about the microdermabrasion.)
-- I learned on Saturday that I am, at this very moment, one degree of separation from George Clooney. Not 2, 3, 4 ... but ONE. He might as well be standing right next to me. I revel in this fact. It won't last long, but while it does, I am going to keep it at the forefront of my consciousness.
-- I remembered, like a bolt from the blue, as I Windexed like a maniac - an author that I absolutely ADORED when I was, say, 11, 12. Her name is Ellen Conford. I have not thought about her for nigh on 20 years - and somehow (the brain is so weird) - her entire oeuvre popped into my head - complete with plots and titles. I felt heart palpitations ... like: I MUST TRACK DOWN those books immediately. I LOVED them. There was a "short story collection" that had spaghetti in the title - and I remember so well that there was one short story in it that was all conversation - a boy and a girl who meet on the beach ... and over the course of a couple of different encounters start to date. I can't remember WHAT I found so entrancing about that story - or why it moved me so much - but I do remember that I was reading it at the same time in my life when I was hanging on to Ralph Macchio for dear life - that junior high horror-time ... and that one particular story just gave me so much hope - that maybe things would work out for me, maybe things would be okay. Anyway - all of Conford's books I loved flipped past my mind - Seven Days to a Brand New Me, the one about the camp, also the one called something like To my Fans, Love Sylvia - which I had adored in particular, because it took place in the 1940s and it was about a girl who wanted to go to Hollywood and be a starlet. The first one of hers I read was actually a book called 7 Days to a Brand New Me - and it really resonated with me when I was 11, 12 ... and starting to deal with adolescent issues, and being made fun of, and learning that who I was was actually NOT going to fly. I also remember that there are some laugh-out-loud funny moments in all of these books. Anyway, I am so psyched to have had a sudden opening in my memory, an opening labeled: ELLEN CONFORD (the brain is truly incredible) - because now I've bought all of those books on Amazon - and I didn't pay more than one cent for any of them - and they're all shrieking my way as we speak. I can't wait to read them again.
-- I rearranged some books. Heaven. My US history section and my Founding Fathers biography section have been rearranged so that they are now together - and it's turning out to be a really stunning collection. I like standing back and looking at it, it looks impressive. I'm so pleased with my library.
-- There are times when I love my Swiffer so much I want to make out with it.
-- Oh, and last night, after watching Persona - whaddya know - I couldn't sleep. So I popped in Oscar - which should please Mejack. I love that movie and I thought it might shake off the eerie blues-ridden feeling that Persona had given me. I love how he doesn't even look at Chazz Palmienteri when he says, "Shaddup" at the end. With a dead annoyed look in his eyes. I love Harry Shearer as one of the Italian tailors. I don't like Marisa Tomei and I never have. She's fake. But I love Stallone in this movie. Oh, and also - I love it when Ken Howard (aka the "white shadow", also aka "Father Damian, Leper Priest" - a childhood favorite for some unknowable reason) - who plays one of the snooty bankers - says to one of his colleagues about somebody else, not Stallone: "Well ... at least he doesn't have a middle name ....... in quotation marks." That line always makes me laugh out loud. Maybe it's the way he says it, who knows ... it just works. And how about Linda Grey randomly showing up at the end? So bizarre. I will stick up for Stallone as Angelo "Snaps" Provolone. I know others don't want to see him be funny and would rather see him kick ass in jungle or futuristic terrain. But I've always liked him in these funnier moments, and also - any movie that puts Stallone in those ridiculous dandy-ish spats is okay by me.
-- Did laundry too. As I watched Oscar at 1 o'clock in the morning. Good times, good times.
-- Hm. I sense a presence over my shoulder right now. Who could it be?
Oh. It's you again. One degree dude, one degree.
January 22, 2007
Weekend snapshots
Obviously I had an insane solitary photo shoot in my apartment this weekend and had so much fun that I think I need to do more. I have more hats and props and ridiculousness. It was so fun. But that was just an hour out of my life.
Other things accomplished:
-- Took a run in the freezing dawn on Saturday
-- Took a run in the freezing dawn on Sunday
The city at dawn - gleaming across the Hudson - with the sun rising behind the buildings ... It uplifts me so much. Takes my breath away.
-- I also watched Rocky 4 times. And I watched Rocky II twice.
-- I never said I wasn't an obsessive. I'm like RTG. Obsession blooms - and I then get into the mode of treating it like a JOB.
-- To some degree, I've taken the Rocky movies for granted. Especially that first one. How amazing it was to watch it again. I was amazed all over again by the first scene - the boxing scene - and the darkness of that room, the darkness and grittiness of the filming - it's the opposite of slick. You can't tell who is the star. It's violent, and it looks real. So anyway - I haven't seen them in years - or many of them, anyway, so now that rocky Balboa has catapulted Rocky back into the forefront ... I'm on my way. Into my obsession.
-- I watched Rocky once all the way through (it's been years. But some of those scenes are so familiar it's like an old comfy well-known and well-loved sweater. When Paulie gets out the baseball bat. The drinking of the eggs. Adrian's little outfits, and her watch pinned to her sweater. The detail! The contrast between Apollo's nice slick house and Rocky's poverty-struck cold-water flat. Stallone's body. I mean, come on, let us be honest. He's not too bulky - the way he got later - he looks appropriate for the level that Rocky is at. The body is yummy. Oh - and Burgess Meredith's face and wonderfully campy performance. "YOU'RE GONNA CRRRRRAP THUNDER!" Stop screaming, Mickey. The shot of Adrian through the bird cage when Rocky is trying to make her laugh. The way Rocky picks up the turtles when he wants to show them to Adrian in his apartment. I remember that moment so so clearly ... his arms are so big, and he just seems so ... impressive (not to mention sexy) - but the way he picks up the turtles - there's this delicacy and caution there - fascinatingly incongrous. Anyway. I had a BLAST sinking into this movie again.)
-- Then I watched all the special features.
-- Then I watched the whole movie again with the commentary track on.
-- Then I spent a glorious amount of time cherry-picking scenes I wanted to see again and again and again. Moments. Flashes of a look across Stallone's face. Tiny moments. The reality of the behavior. How real the fight looks. And it's all choreographed. Incredible. (Choreographed by Stallone, of course). Amazing. But the whole movie has that feel of reality. Things seem to be really happening as opposed to being staged ... or planned out. The movie is a little bit messy. In a good way. Like life is sometimes messy. Like the first kiss. It's ... Who can describe the SYMPHONY of experience that is a first kiss? Watch her. Watch her side of things. Then watch his side. He will not let her get away because he knows she wants it. But he can't move too quickly or too insistently because it will freak her out. Stallone, in the current-day interview in the special features, says, "You know, I watch that scene today and I disappear in that scene. And she is off the charts." He's right. Stallone is necessary for the scene to work - but it's really all about Adrian's eyes, looking up at him as he keeps coming at her ... She is phenomenal. She has no lines except, "I don't belong here." "I don't feel comfortable", etc. But she doesn't need lines. So I watched that scene many times - focusing on her, then focusing on him ... I watched the training montage a couple of times - just to revel how perfect it is that the music kicks in there ... it's so BIG, so unexpected - because there's been almost no soundtrack up to that point.
-- Anyway, I STUDIED Rocky. Scene by scene.
-- Then I watched Rocky II - which is surprisingly effective, even though it has a thankless job of coming after that first one. But Stallone! My GOD, he's just so good as this character!
-- In the interview with Stallone he said a great great thing. (And this was before Rocky Balboa - this was from 2001) - he said, "I will never ... ever ... have a voice like that again." (Meaning: not the actual physical voice ... but the expression of life that is Rocky. Perfect fit of actor and character.) He said (and this was the comment I really loved): "You know, if I say stuff, people don't believe me. But if I make Rocky say that stuff - I'll be believed. He's the best voice I've ever had."
More to come.
January 14, 2007
Snapshots
-- I am almost done with Gulliver's Travels. I am having so much fun with this book. I'll write more about it when I'm done.
-- Just finished Taming of the Shrew - part of my 2007 Shakespeare project - and I'm gearing up for a huge essay about THAT as well. A la 2 Gents.
-- This is boring to anyone except me. I am absolutely THRILLED. I started ordering products from Melaleuca - basically because it's convenient, and cheap, and it comes to my door, and it's all part of my ongoing plan to outsource as much as possible. I checked them out on the advice of Flynn- and I was intrigued. My first delivery arrived last week. I got soap, and vitamins, and crap like that ... but the laundry detergent!! I have no brand loyalty with laundry detergent (which is odd - most people seem to have some sort of loyalty). I have not. Until now. I love the smell of this detergent so much that I feel almost addicted to it. It is a heavenly scent - I mean, laundry-ish and everything, but without a harsh industrial smell, and not too soapy. It just smells fresh and yummy. I am now ALL ABOUT MELALEUCA LAUNDRY DETERGENT. I took my first load out and then stood there for a while with my nose buried in my clean towels. I felt like a little kid in grade school (back in the day, I mean, back my MY day) - being handed a "ditto" and immediately shoving it up to my nose to take a nice deep long smell. (On a side note, Yankee Candle shoudl come out with THAT as a scent. "DITTO". Mmmmm.) Anyway. I adore my laundry detergent from Melaleuca and I ain't never goin' back. I have discovered brand loyalty at this late late stage in the game. I'll go to the mat for Melaleuca.
-- Allison and I had a rapturous afternoon together yesterday:
1. Talking about the black dahlia murder case
2. Talking about the rugby team who survived the plane crash in the Andes
3. Watching a show about Andrew Luster, the Max Factor heir who was a serial rapist - sick sick man. We were in heaven. At one point I said, after hearing about yet another girl he drugged and raped, "I have never had so much fun in my life." We were voracious. We had to keep pausing it to talk about it.
4. Talking about Marie Antoinette
5. Allison divulged how much she loved the book Our Mutual Friend - I've never read it, and she talked about it in such a way that made me want to pick it up right away
6. We watched the season premiere of The Extras - and Orlando Bloom!!! SO FUNNY! I have newfound respect for him. He TOTALLY made fun of his own persona - it was hysterical! In the episode, he was completely convinced that he was WAY better looking than Johnny Depp, and he was kind of fixated on it. If a woman preferred Johnny Depp to him - he even got angry about it. Like: No. Objectively, I am MUCH more better looking than Depp. He kept talking about Johnny Depp. He was so funny. Go, Orlando!! Love that show.
-- Went over to Siobhan's bar last night - hoping to get a chance to hang out with her - but the place was PACKED. I said "Hi!" to Siobhan, and then 45 minutes later, said, "Bye!" That was all she had time for. Poor woman. But it was okay because there were a couple of other of Siobhan's friends hanging out - and so we all got a table, and had a good time. Oh and apparently - the cute dude who played the brother in Bring It On was there. I didn't see him, though, it was too crowded.
-- Cool misty weather. Is it January?
-- Met up today with Jen to hear about her trip to Hawaii. The quote of the afternoon came from Jen:
"And then ... I found myself face to face with a wild boar."
I mean, really, what more is there to say.
January 7, 2007
Sketchbook flotsam and jetsam
Ireland, 1998
"As long as we're headed An Lár ...." - Jean
"There's a random bale of hay driver." - Jean
Jean: "Can I put it in there?"
Me: "Tooo many books."
"Narth."
"Excuse me?"
"I want to go to County Mayo."
Irish person: "It's just fields."
"What did I do wrong?" - Brian, his screaming voice behind us
Siobhan: "Are you gonna kiss the back of my head?"
Brian: "No. I'm gonna turn you around and kiss you on the lips."
Brian, moaning: "Oh, the shame of the Irishman!" (talking about Ulysses and James Joyce's writing)
Me: "Say something in Irish."
Brian does.
Me: "What did you say?"
Brian: "You're fuckin' gorgeous."
To get to Clonmacnoise follow signs to Ballynahoun and take Paddy Kavanaugh's bus service.
Me: "Member Glencar?"
Jean: "Was that where I saw a cow and thought it was a bear?"
Brian: "She's probably got a boyfriend in Minnesota workin' on a crop plantation, sayin; 'This is all for Siobhan ...' "
"You're a sensitive little bastard."
"Sensitive is the operative word."
"Te - ha - co." - Jean saying "Texaco"
Listed in the index of Let's Go Ireland (otherwise known to us as "The Book"): "nuns drinking Guinness" - pg. 364
Sí¬¥ na Gigh - fertility statue, legs spread over head, Clonmacnoise. (PJ Harvey)
DJ, in thick thick brogue: "That was 'Blue Moon'!"
Jean: "And I am a leprechaun."
In Irish accent: "The secrets are in the Tarot!"
Jean: "We're going up to Dung Angus." Pause. "I am my mother's daughter."
Jean: "If anyone asks, tell them the bodhran is for my nephew."
Lush green fields - w/ a sparkley sapphire pool dipped into them
Left to Sallynoggin, right to Cabintealy
Port Laoise
Caisleán - castle
Lumneach: Limerick
Áth Cliath - Dublin
An Lár!
Jean: "Oh, look! There's a horse stadium ... or ... whatever ... a racetrack?" Horse stadium?
Sign at a truck stop: Open 7 am till Late
Glendalough in the dark. Jean: "There's a whole fuckin' Glendalough village down there."
The Wicklow gap. Sun going down. Moon rising. Lichen on the gravestones glowing white in the moonlight - as though it were ice ... the sound of rushing water ... and the darkening of the hills against the still light sky - the glowing sky of dusk - but we were way down in shadow ... faint gleams of streams making their way down - the clear silhouette of trees climbing up almost totally vertical hills. The graveyard by dark around that conical tower, all those tilting old gravestones - massive in comparison to what we use today. Most were taller than me. All in decay with moss eating away at the stones. So fantastic in the moonlight. Darkness all around.
"The fields are so green they almost look yellow!" I said (wearing my hyper-day-glo yellow sunglasses)
Getting lost in a suburb of Dublin and in the space of 5 minutes we saw a 7th Day Adventist Church, a sign for the Irish Jewish Museum and a sign for a Quaker Meeting House - by the time that last one rolled around Jean exploded, "Quaker Meeting House?" It made her ANGRY. We were shrieking with laughter. Where the HELL are all the Catholics?
Auntie Bridgie with a cell phone
The Stillorgan
"To be perfectly honest with you, it's really the Trapezoid of Kerry."
Jean, dancing and twirling, singing, "Fat man in a little coat ..." Brian: "Oh, don't get sentimental now."
Jean: "What was his pen name? Boris Dolan?" We lost it. BORIS?
Jean kept saying "Tony Blair" in a crusty English accent. He was in Dublin for a day so we could not escape from news of him. "Tony Blair."
Driving through the Wicklow Gap, listening to The Corrs. Siobhan: "They all look like Snow White." Their song is about the only song on the radio over here. "And we are so young now ... so young ... so young now ..." - and Jean, underneath it, in tune, in rhythm, as though she were a backup singer: 'Glendalough, Glendalough ...'
"So. What's Pete's last name?" "Power Equipment."
Siobhan's homestay - the little girl named her doll "Crystal Siobhan" (after the 2 homestay girls). She whipped the doll down the stairs. Siobhan expressed concern and the little girl said, "Oh, no, she likes it."
When we got lost that night - Jean was driving - she kept asking Siobhan which way to go. "Crystal-Siobhan - which way?"
Jean and I, walking in Dublin - heard a baby (about 3 years old) - in his stroller behind us - we heard him scream out, "HOLY JESUS." Jean and I started laughing - we couldn't help it - the father was like, "Sh!" (like: where did he learn that phrase from?) A man walking along with us was laughing a bit too, I made eye contact with him, and he said "Well, at least he's sayin' his prayers!"
Sinn Féin guy: "You won't meet too many people like me over here. You have to understand: I'm a real Irishman. I'm an alcoholic."
Talking to Brian and Tadhg from County Tipperary. "We come from a county in the middle of Ireland that starts with a T." I guessed. "Tipperary." Brian was thrilled that I guessed it. "Yes!" We had just come from there that day - so we all talked about Tipperary - and Jean and I later told Brian that we wanted to go to mass while we were in Dublin - and where did he recommend - he was so pleased about that too. "You want to go to mass? Really?" He told us the church he went to.
Me: "I had to buy a china Celtic cross." Sean: "Oh, you've got to buy all that shite so you can show everyone at home - 'Look! I've been to Ireland!'" Me: "Exactly."
Sean: Have you been to Newgrange? Me: We went today. Sean: How about the Aran Islands? Me: Yeah, we've done that. Sean: Have you done Glendalough? Or the rock of Cashel? Me: We're doing Rock of Cashel tomorrow. Jean: We went to Clonmacnoise! Sean: Is there anywhere you haven't gone? Jesus!
Jean and I arriving in Dublin at 6 am. It was still dark. We waited for the shuttle bus to take us to the car lot. The first streaks of dawn appearing in the sky - a clear dawn sky - only a couple of clouds which showed up black in front of the dawn. The air was cold and wet. Where the hell were we. We stood on the sisdewalk, shivering, not really talking to each other - and occasionally either Jean or I would start giggling, out of nowhere, spontaneous bursts of laughter. Everything was funny. Then the bus arrived - driven by this Irish cutie with a Caesar haircut - he was to die for. Probably 18 years old. And I got in the back first - he was blasting club music - and Jean went to climb up in the back with me and she had this huge backpack on - little Jean with this tall backpack - which added about a foot of height to her - and she missed the little step and slipped and fell. I burst into laughter, Jean started laughing - the Irish boy went to help Jean up and said, "Had some drinks on the plane, did you then?" Jean was still laughing, protesting, "No! No!" Then the drive to the car lot, with Erasure blaring in our ears through the dawn, and the 2 of us sat in the back, shaking with silent laughter. We could not stop. Jean reached down and pulled up the leg of her pants and in the glow of a streetlamp we could both see this huge gash on her leg, streaming blood. And this just made us laugh even harder.
Oh, and the way this kid gave us directions into Dublin: "Okay. You go down this road and then you take a left at the roundabout, and then you pick up N11." (By now we are totally familiar with all the motorways - an tlarthar - etc. - but we had no idea what "N11" was at that moment - or even what he had actually said.) It took us 3 tries for us to translate - "N11" - "Oh! N Eleven! Oh - okay - go on." "And then you need to get onto O'Connell Street - that's a big road in Dublin - and what you want to look for is the Stillorgan - " (By now, the Stillorgan has taken on mythical status to us. I will never forget the Stillorgan. Jean and I cannot stop saying it.)
N11 to Kilmacanogue
R755 to Laragh
756 to Glendalough
On bathroom wall, Dublin, 11/25:
In a garden of life we grow
And our beauty is in us to show
From the infanate eternal flow
"When you see a man recitin' limericks, turn left. There's a gate."
Our taped-on bumper. Jean, worried: "I hope that tape won't take the paint off." I felt compelled to reassure her even though I have no idea whether the tape will take the paint off - I literally was about to make something up, "Oh, well, I'm sure it won't take the paint off because that tape is made for the express purpose of ..." Finally I just said flatly, "I have no response."
Our laughter at Glendalough. It hit the 3 of us at the same moment. We lost it. Staggering, cackling, disrupting the peace of the graveyard, other people trying to commune with nature, and we were shrieking and snorting.
The "riot steps" at UCD. Siobhan telling us about a friend of hers doing an imitation of people tripping and stumbling down those steps.
Guy we met: "My wife just had triplets. She doesn't want to be seein' my face for a while."
Stella Maris Hostel. The 2 guys running it made it sound like the road to Rossaveal was so bad that you would need a range rover. "Best take the ferry from Galway." They made it sound like it would be a 2 and a half hour drive. But Jean and I actually made it to Rossaveal in less than an hour.
Jean: "Listen, lady. Just give us 5 minutes so we can take a picture of Kevin's Kitchen with the night flash."
December 31, 2006
Sketchbook flotsam and jetsam
Weird, the story that fragments can tell.
1995
"The only thing you can do now, the only religious thing you can do, is act. Act for God if you want to - be God's actress, if you want to ... You can at least try to, if you want to - there's nothing wrong in trying. You'd better get busy though, buddy. The goddamn sands run out on you every time you turn around."
-- Franny and Zooey
I lie here in the Sri Lanka darkness, + I find myself yearning ...
-- No matter what I say to you, I'm telling you I love you --
"There isn't a word evolved enough for what we are." -- M. 1/11/95 Dawn
Fear and regret are twin thieves who rob us of today.
"Both of us loved her, and neither of us liked me very much." -- Cliff Eberhardt, 2/9/95
Life is beautiful.
- Lily Taylor, "Arizona Dream"
Dream: 2/11/95 I was working in a diner. It was P's diner. He was the cook. He wore an apron. It was my first day. I was so nervous. I was shaking. There were 10 booths. I was leaning over to check for the table's #s. P. was in the kitchen, getting the stove ready. He wasn't really paying any attention to me. He wasn't being mean, but he wasn't pampering me. I was on my own. I went to the first table. It was Siobhan and a friend. But she wasn't acting like Siobhan at all. And she ordered a candy bar (a very specific candy bar that I can't remember right now.) And one other thing. I looked at my check pad and could barely write the order. I went into the basement to look for the candy bar. There was a long line of boxes labelled w/ dif. candy bars. I searched and searched, getting more and more panicked. I really was panicking. Talking to myself, near tears. "Where are they? Where are they?" Having a breakdown. I kept waiting for "someone" to come rescue me. I knew I had stayed down in the basement too long (hm. Wonder what that's about) and I was afraid to go back - afraid of what I'd find.
I came back up and the whole place was full, already eating. P. had clearly taken all the orders and brought their food while I was weeping in the basement. (Hm.)
I was afraid P. was angry with me. I looked into the kitchen (the kitchen wasn't a separate room, it was at the end of the diner) - P. was 3/4s turned away from me, I saw him wiping the stove clean of grease. He didn't seem angry. He was just doing his job.
River river carry me home
River river carry me home to the place where I come from
So deep
So wide
You take me on your back for a ride
If I should fall would you swallow me deep inside?
River - show me how to float
I feel like I'm sinking down
Thought that I could get along
But here in this water my feet won't touch the ground
I need something to turn myself around
Flowing away
Away toward the sea
River deep
Can you lift up and carry me
Roll on thru the heartland
Til the sun has left the sky
River river, carry me high
Til the washing of the water makes it all right
Let your waters reach me
Like she reached me tonight
Letting go is so hard
The way it's hurting now
To get this love untied
So tough to stay with this thing
Cause if I follow through, I face what I denied
I get those hooks out of me
And I take out the hooks that I sunk deep in your side
Kill that fear of emptiness, loneliness I hide
River, oh river, river running deep
Bring me something that will let me get to sleep
In the washing of the water will you take it all away
Bring me something to take this pain away
-- Peter Gabriel
There's a letter on the desktop that I dug out of a drawer
The last truce we ever came to from our adolescent war
And I start to feel a fever from the warm air thru the screen
You come regular like seasons shadowing my dreams
The Mississippi's might and it starts in Minnesota
At a place that you could walk across with 5 steps down
And I guess that's how you started -
Like a pinprick to my heart
But at this point you rush right through me and I start to drown
And there's not enough room in this world for my pain
Signals cross and love gets lost
And time passed makes it plain
Of all my demon spirits I need you the most
I'm in love with your ghost
-- Indigo Girls
Dream: 3/4/95
Only image I clearly remember: an older black couple lying in bed. The dream camera was diagonally up on the ceiling - not directly over them. The room was dim, had an underground Hobbit-like feeling. Patchwork quilt on bed. The situation as I understand it: Everyone (I was included in this, all my friends) was meeting for breakfast. A kind of potluck breakfast. And this black coule was coming too and it was expected that they would come because they made great waffles. This couple knew we would all be disappointed if they didn't come. However (this is a huge setup for this tiny remembered image) - their baby had just died. So all I remember is the dim image of the 2 of them in bed, lying on their beds, holding each other, tears rolling down their cheeks, yet saying to each other, "We have to go to breakfast. They expect us. We can't not go."
3/3/95 3 am "Are you crying? That ain't right. You should never cry when you're with me. You crying has nothing to do with You and Me." -- M.
Before everything fell apart, he became one of the few who mattered to me in the world. -- Goldbug Variations
The Care and Feeding of Foreigners spectral trees glazed with lapidary trills and mordants of winter growing more variegated four-ale tetragrammaton semaphores phloem-pipes, palisades Franciscan of 4th Street capacitance emaciated as a Cranach Christ Disraeli - never complain, never explain worse than aphasic w/ quotes metastasized cells steady call to tonic Limerick Ladies from Lunt St. Francis prayer Dr. Arendt attacca multifoliate counterpoint reagent
"He feels a strange euphoria, an overwhelming sense of inevitability. The thing about to make its grand entrance surprises him by its uncanny familiarity." -- Goldbug Variations
"Are you waiting for someone?" -- P. to me, '92
The Cluny tapestries - ? research
Good Thing by Patty Larkin Looking at the face of forever Well I've heard enough And I've seen enough And I know enough to know I know a Good Thing when I see it And it's a bad thing to let go Well I've been around I've been up and down Until I bent out of control With your world all in motion Got to put a ball and a chain on your soul All those angels running Picking up the pieces Putting back together hearts broke long ago I know a good thing when I see it And it's a bad thing to let go There will always be lovers with borders of their own And you may charge across in a golden chariot But you will never be home I had dreams like distant thunder I had hope like a prayer unheard Now this is nothing less than perfect In a less than perfect world All those angels running Picking up the pieces Putting back together hearts broke long ago I know a Good Thing when I see it And it's a bad thing to let go
3/13/95 Dream: My wallet - cheap white leather - was stolen. I was SO UPSET because my license was gone. I was having a FIT. Screaming. My voice all hoarse. "Don't you GET it? My ID! My ID!" I was in a long weird dim room, long ceiling, fucked-up perspective, like Willy Wonka. P. was back in a corner and I believe he was on roller skates. And I just wanted him to deal with my crisis of lost identification. We sat on steps, he one step below me - and I was SO UPSET - and he was glancing behind his shoulder, at me but not at me. Very blase, indifferent.
"I lay as I had fallen, merely turning apprehensive eyes slowly left, toward the wall, to look fully into the wicked gaze of my creature. It no longer frightened me. Indeed, I felt as if I were seeing the cause of my anxiety itself for the first time, exactly as it was." -- Alice Walker, "Possessing the Secret of Joy"
"There was a boulder lodged in my throat. My heart surged pitifully. I knew what the boulder was; that it was a word; and that behind that word I would find my earliest emotions. Emotions that had frightened me insane." -- Alice Walker, "Possessing Secret of Joy"
The Troubled Face of Quiet
If I can run fast enough, I could fly --
"I am really asking whether woman cannot begin, at last, to think thru the body, to connect what has been so cruelly disorganized - its fertility, its desire, its so-called frigidity, its bloody speech, its silences, its changes and mutilations, its rapes and ripenings." -- Adrienne Rich, Of Woman Born
Dream: 4/12/95 Dreamt of P. We were in this country academic town - like Ithaca - green lawns I remember - a big grey church - that academic feel of autumn and bells ringing. I was on a quest to get P. some water. He needed water and I was searching everywhere. I think I only found him a glass. There was a lot more to the dream. He was leaving. My parents were somehow there. I said, "I'll walk you to the van." He said, "Okay." He seemed very sad - weak - I wanted to take care of him. He was trying to explain to me why he couldn't be with me. That there was something more to the story. Then he whispered to me - so so quiet - he basically just moved his lips, exaggeratedly forming the words, "I have a virus." And - it wasn't a flu - he definitely had a disease - he was dying.
Dream: 4/13
Lying in a messy bed with M. I said something that made him laugh so hard - he was burying his face in the blankets, screaming with laughter.
-- When I woke, I remembered the dream + it made me feel very weird. And wistful. Because in the 3 years I've known M. I've never made him laugh like that. I've actually never seen him laugh like that with anyone.
June 16
Horrible and scary dream this a.m. I had to wake myself up from it. I was looking on as this Arabian man tortured a cat. It escalated and escalated until he stuck a pen in the cat's eyeball. I felt like it was happening to me. I was screaming as loud as I could. "No! No!" I heard the cat start to scream too. And the Arabian fuck was getting satisfaction out of it. He took a grim pleasure in the torture. "Roger told me to keep the cats off the lawn." It was in the middle of the eyeball gouging that I pulled myself up out of sleep, screaming. I scared M. He's used to my nightmares now.
June 18 Last night: FAULKNER
WAITING
Recognition
Connection
Expanding
Surrender
Crossroads
Dissolve
Core
Plea
Roots
Yearning
Defeat
Shadowland
Letting Go
Letting Go
Letting Go
LEGACY
Make Voyages. Attempt them. That's all there is.
-- Tennessee Williams, "Camino Real"Dream July 4th 1995 Pieces I remember: Browsing in a bookstore. Saw a rack of blank books and started browsing. Black cover with white pages, oversized. Then I saw a thick book covered with an odd kind of crushed velvet that looked like leopard skin. But there was a greenish tint to it. I picked it up, drawn to it. It was falling apart in an endearing way, and on the binding was a sticker saying "Free". I opened it and I realized that it was already full of writing. It was someone's journal. There was a lot of different colored pens used, some crayon too - red, blue, pink. It took me a second to realize that it was my own handwriting. Someone had covered up my recognizable journal with the leopard skin. In the dream, I hadn't even realized that I had lost a journal. I saw the date: 'July 7'. And I thought - 'Oh, this is last summer's journal.' (The P. summer.) And immediately, I was back there, in that summer. Image - with a moving camera - a crowd outside - summertime - clearly waiting for P. Then I read the words in the journal: "He said Hello with such gentleness and love and excitement." (That really is how I feel about P. and how he would talk to me. Even Hellos were deeply layered experiences.)
Then there was a whole section about M. I can't tell this part literally - I don't remember images or anything - but I learned something about M. I learned that he had been married long before - or maybe just seriously involved with someone - and they had had a baby girl - and for some mysterious reason the baby girl died. And M. felt responsible, guilty, ashamed, and everyone kind of did blame him for the death. But he never ever ever spoke of it.
July 13 a.m.
Dream: I was at Mum and Dad's and I was going downstairs to meet T and his new wife. The dream was like reality. I hadn't seen him in years. I had never met her. I could hear the voices downstairs. Mum and Dad talking with them in the hallway. I descended. T had the weirdest most unattractive haircut I had ever seen. It was kind of like a shag, but the top of it was curly, guido-ish - it looked perfectly horrible. His back was to me. He turned. We hugged. I said, "Your hair!" and touched the back of his head. Our hug ended abruptly and awkwardly. Very unsatisfying. Turned to the wife. She seemed to be standing on a step above me.
July Dream:
After my show. But it wasn't at Shattered Globe. It was like a high school, or Shiel Park. People, audience members, were milling about. Laverne was there, sitting, waiting for me. I thought P. had been there so I was searching for him. Looking everywhere. I saw many people that I knew from all parts of my life, but no P. I was very hurt and disappointed. Then - and this section was separated from the rest of my dream -
I was listening to P. on the phone. He was in an office, the door was open, I could see him. I eavesdropped. He was calling his girlfriend for some reason, and he called her "Bijou". It was his pet name. "Well, my little Bijou ..."
July 25
God what was my dream
what was it --
P. ---
August 18 1995
Dreamt: I was in the moivie Waterworld. Very elaborate dream. In helicopters flying over endless ocean with this big island with a weird scooped-out end. "You know what that is, don't you?" "A volcano?" Little dirty people - a lot of high-up shots - Then I was down on a boat or a raft with a girl who was my Waterworld guide, as though this world were real and I was new to this world. She was telling me everything, showing me how everything worked. The sea was full of activity - boats and sea monsters. There was an enormous fish going by, half in the water, half out - like a submarine - and it was as long as an ocean liner. Far away, there were frolicking little Lochness monsters. I looked down into the water. Not too far down, I saw what looked like the bottom - only it had big black and white designs - too close to the surface to be the bottom. It was a huge animal of some kind. Then someone pointed way out to sea - and I saw the tidal wave. Somehow, there were 2 mountain/volcanoes sticking up out of the ocean, and the wave was being funneled through that channel. I was terrified. It was like I was there - but also like I was a scared spectator ("There's a tidal wave in this movie?"). It was HUGE. White - roaring. The 2 of us crouched down and hid our heads to wait it out. Then - and this will be very hard to explain - it was just after the tidal wave went over us. And - then it was gone - but it had this suction effect, like a whirlpool - only on a massive scale - and suddenly my entire field of vision was taken up by brown and then - it pulled back - and back - and it was a HUGE ocean liner - right over us - and the ocean liner was being sucked backward by the tidal wave at a very fast rate. It was terrifying. Abd then it was gone too. I was glad I wasn't on that boat.
Then I was zooming around in a motorized hangglider - I remember one other girl - in a pink bikini and sunglasses - and then the Waterworld section ended and I was moving into a new house. It was a huge house and people were moving into rooms all over it. I was on this glassed-in porch. I remembered walking by the house years earlier and taking a picture of it it was so pretty. Fountain in front yard, flowers, grass - and now I lived there. Then I heard Mitchell's voice - his actual voice - I mean, it woke me up - and I heard him say, "Hey, Sheila, your old friend M. came by and sang us a song." I woke up like a shot, saying, "What? What? M? M's here?" I put on my T-shirt and went out of my room, totally expecting Mitchell to be standing right there. After all, I heard him. But he wasn't there. That was all a part of the dream.
1996
"She's a trophy wife, she used to be a wild child, and she loves museums." - Wade on some girl
"Did I come at a bad time or are you rehearsing Strindberg?" - Melissa, 30something
9/21/97
Michael proposed last night.
Everything in the universe is subject to change, and everything is right on schedule.
The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.
-- Jack London
12/5/97 P.'s wife B. came to me in a dream. It felt like a visitation. P. was in the dream, but only subliminally. I was in their apartment. I had let myself in (I was told to) and I felt sort of awkward and anxietal. Just standing around, waiting. Would he introduce me to her? Would she even be there?
Then she walked into the kitchen. She had long dark hair, she was very angular. She looked vaguely anorexic - prominent teeth - not very good skin - yet not unattractive. She was holding a bag of groceries. She put them down on the counter. She sort of smiled at me, not really.
I awkwardly made the first move, held out my hand. 'I'm Sheila."
Everything changed then. She looked at me again - and then came over to me and put her arms around me. She said to me as she hugged me, "I know you think the world of my husband."
_______
Kate made this observation: "An anorexic holding a bag of groceries? What's that about?"
David: "She's got the abundance that you want, but she's not being nourished."
12/15/97
Emerging from - where? Subway station - I came out into a place like Washington Square Park - bright sunny day - lots of people (dream extras) - and then there were these turnstiles placed randomly - not connected to anything apparently. And we had to go thru them. Michael was waiting by one of them for me. He had sunglasses on - a huge smile. Something was weird about it, though. Something wasn't quite right. The ground was covered in something. Confetti? Leaves? Scuffing thru them.
Is this a marriage metaphor?
1/17/98
Very cool dream with Michael - we were hanging out - I needed him to do something for me. He was sitting on a chair - I was on a chair beside him - only sitting up on the back of the chair, so I was higher. He wasn't looking at me.
I said, "Could you--"
He said immediately, "Come on." Or soemthing like that. "Let's go." "Of course." "Absolutely." Immediate unconditional agreement and I burst into laughter.
Then there was a whole underwater drama which I cannot remember.
1/19/98
Okay. Lots. Dream:
I was in a bar with Rich, it was sort of well lit - and it was like we were in a movie. Somehow it was artificial. And I said, "And there's M.!" Introducing him as a character. He was sitting down at the end of the bar (of course) and he had this white thing wrapped around his head - a cross between a bandage and Arab headgear. He looked insane. W/ this placid look on his face. Rich did a sort of violent karate move to get M.'s attention. M., alert, looked @ Rich - ready for anything - + the look on his face in that moment - I was so struck by it. The un-real blueness of his eyes, the very alive expression. Then M. said, referring to what was clearly an imaginary entity beside him: "I'd like you to meet my sidekick ... Dobat." Yes. Do-baht. Dobat? Robot? What?
Nov. 14 Dream:
Going down to the beach? - to watch the end of the world. I was w/ Brendan, Maria, and we had Cashel's stoller but Cashel wasn't in it. And at first we were driving - we didn't know what we were driving to see - we didn't know what was going to happen - was it going to be a natural disaster? A meteor? An asteroid? And as we drove (and the road was filled with cars) - in the distance we kept seeing this sort of highly mechanized huge slingshot-type apparatus - it was as big as a crane. We could see it from far away, and randomly - it would sort of unbuckle - and release something up into the air - a missile? It seemed like a futile attempt to stave off the disaster. Primitive. But - it was giving it its best shot. I remember Maria's calm energy. I was so happy I was with her. Eventually, the road got so clogged with cars that we got out and walked. Everybody else was doing that, too. I said something like, "Do we really want to be getting close to this disaster? Front row seats?"
And Maria said something - in a phrasing I can't remember - something like, "This will be a morning in history."
And we still didn't know if the end of the world was a sure thing, so maria was saying: if it's a mistake, then we'll go home - but let's not hide from it. Let's greet it with open eyes.
Nov. 22 98
My dream world is really coming back. In this past week alone:
1. M. got an office job - he wore a blue suit. It upset me SO MUCH. I went to visit him and we were looking for a private place to make out. No luck. M.'s feet were suddenly the size of a child's. I wanted to cry, seeing those small feet - it was like M. had been totally diminished. Tragedy.
2. Slow deliberate movement of a monstrous "s" - I was so scared in the dream that my brain would not accept what I was seeing
3. Claude Monet was being fucked up the ass by this claymation pygmy fertility-doll type man with a penis the size of a tree trunk.
October 28, 2006
Snapshots
Woke up to a monsoon battering my window. The trees were bent horizontal. Now it's bright sun and everything's all greeny glowy happy. Please make up your mind, nature.
Had a massage on Monday night. I was so freakin' stressed out that it basically HURT when he touched my neck and shoulders. I mean, it's ridiculous. So it was rather, uhm, intense - "Ouch! OW! OOOF ... OUCH ..." but I walked out of there feeling almost like I was TALLER. Everything felt all straightened out and aligned. He called me the next day to see how I was doing. I love a massage therapist who, you know, calls you at home to see how your neck is. It's hysterical, but I love it.
The weather has been freezing - with massive winds battering down the avenues of New York. American flags looking almost like they are going to be ripped off their poles - it's rather alarming. Then there's been the whitenss of the sky - with stray golden GLEAMS coming out of it - so you can see where the sun is. A wintry sun, hiding.
Went out to Brooklyn to see my friend in Urinetown. She played Pennywise and she was absolutely brilliant. That song "Privilege to Pee" has got to be so damn hard - and she has an incredible soprano already - but to see her just kick some BUTT with that song - and be funny and angry - was so much fun. So much fun. The show was quite good. Brooklyn-ites, you have 2 more weeks to check it out.
Tonight going to see my good friend Bill in a revival of a show he did last year - and I had heard a ton about his performance - but I had missed it because I was in a show as well. Bill is such an amazing actor - one of the best I personally have ever worked with. We did a two-person show a couple years ago that I think was one of the most satisfying acting experiences I've ever had. He's a good friend. He's insane.
Cashel's birthday coming up. I'm so bummed I won't be out there for it. But I'm thinking of going back out to LA in December - so I can see him again then. More word problems to solve?
Domestic stuff today involving Woolite, and Endust and - ohmygod - breaking out the flannel sheets. The day I break out the flannels is one of the happiest days of the year for me. I love the cold. I love fall and winter. I love cozy flannel and fleece and all that.
The diet is going well. I've been surprisingly dedicated to it - even with traveling to LA and all. I haven't slipped too much. Haven't gotten on a scale yet, but I will say this - my clothes are loose.
Had a great conversation with another writer friend last night. She's been getting her poems published here and there - and has started to do readings in Manhattan. She also teaches a writing class online, and in general is a great person to talk to about all this stuff. I feel pumped. Pumped about this Sewanee thing - but not just about that - pumped about what will come NEXT.
Oh - member my Internet experiment? It worked.
October 8, 2006
Saturday snapshots
-- The morning was chilly and grey, with a wind whipping through my open window, waking me up before my alarm. My favorite kind of weather. I start to come alive in the fall. I start to feel most like myself in the fall, my best self. Allison and I talked about that a lot yesterday, because the weather was just so insistently beautiful we couldn't not talk about it.
-- I took a run in the damp windy morning. Prince blasting in my ears.
-- Of course my whole consciousness from the moment I woke up was: "Reds, Reds, Reds, Reds, Reds, Reds ... The most exciting part (for me) is that Allison was coming with me and she had never seen it before. You know the THRILL when someone you love is introduced to something you love - and you just KNOW that they will love that thing too? (And you know how hard it is sometimes to write with good grammar? Yeah, that too). I should write a post sometime about my friendship with Allison and how so much of it is one of us saying to the other: "Okay, you have to see this movie, and I kind of need to BE THERE when you see it." It's one of our favorite things to do with each other. She has introduced me to some wonderful movies (but there are also such funny moments - on both sides - when we're watching the movie and kind of checking in with the other, like, 'Do ya love it? See??? Don't you love it??????' hahahaha It's such a THING we have and it's so funny to me. We now make promises to each other, "Okay, so when we see this movie, I promise I won't be all in your face, making sure you love it." But then of course - we can't keep that promise. We're way too enthusiastic about the things that we love, and also just way too excited to show them to each other.) So this one was a biggie. I knew I was going to have to totally control myself to not be all in her face during the movie, being like: "Isn't this AMAZING??????" So exciting.
-- I headed into the city. It was so chilly that I wore a scarf. Glory!!
-- But by the time I made it down to Greenwich Village - the clouds had moved on - leaving the day sun-warm, glowing, and autumnal. It's our most beautiful day in this fall season so far. All of New York seemed to be out and about, enjoying the weather. People playing chess in the park, people walking their dogs, rolling their babies around ... There was a line down the block at Magnolia Cafe, and the sugary smell of the cupcakes wafted out onto the street. I'm not a cupcake girl, I would never STAND IN LINE for a cupcake (if there were a Wheat Thin Cafe, I might stand in line for THAT) ... but I love that there are people in the world who love cupcakes so much, and who know a good cupcake when they taste one, and so are willing to stand in line for half an hour in order to get one. Beauty!!
-- Before I went to Allison's, I stopped off at the bookstore across from her apartment. I couldn't help myself. It's one of my favorite bookstores in the city - it's tiny, cramped, with books piled every which way - but they have everything. Everything. Somehow they manage to cram an awesome selection (with great sale prices) into this teeny space. And I bought a bunch of books. It's been a couple of months since I indulged in my book-buying problem so I figured I was entitled. I bought:
The Historian by Elizabeth Raskolnikov (or whatever her last name is. I figure it's time to see what all the fuss is about. It looks fantastic. Cold War Europe? Eastern Block? Vampires? Vlad the Impaler? I'm already in.)
Prep by Curtin Stittenfield (I think. Jessa from Book Slut has been raving about it - and I'm not really into new fiction, not really - so I thought: Okay, I'll give this a try. It looks fantastic)
Because they wanted to by Mary Gaitskill (Jon has paid me the ultimate compliment by comparing my writing to hers - she's one of my writing idols - and I still haven't read her latest novel - but I couldn't find her latest in the teeny bookstore - but they did have this collection of short stories I hadn't read before. So I got that. Time to get inspired, ratchet up the writing a bit)
Spoon River Anthology by Edgar Lee Masters. One of my favorites - and somewhere along the line - with all my moving and crap - I lost my copy. This one was on sale so I bought it. In undergraduate acting class, our teacher made us use these haunting terrible poems as monologues. It was hard, man. Hard shite. I remember the last two lines of my "monologue":
"I thirsted so for love!
I hungered so for life!"
I look forward to re-reading this book.
Interviews with Howard Hawks. Never even heard of this book but there it was. Can't WAIT. I love books like this. Can't have enough of them. There was also a book called Interviews with John Ford but I thought: Okay, this is enough for one day. I'll come back for that one.
So naturally, now, I would be carrying around 30 pounds of books as Allison and I went about our day. Typical.
-- Met up with Allison at her apartment. Her beautiful calm apartment with the soft green walls, the brick wall, the white eyelet cover on her bed - and her sleepy cozy dog (who was devastated because he could tell that Allison was ready to go out WITHOUT HIM ... HOW DARE SHE???) and her passive-aggressive cat, sitting on top of the fridge, staring at us with blank aggrieved eyes. Oh, and this is too funny - as we were getting ready to go, the television was on - and it was Animal Planet and there was a show on about hippos. Allison is all about her DVR so she said, "Oh, I'm gonna want to see this later ... now watch what I do ..." She clicked a button - to record the whole show from the beginning - so she could see the hippos later, on her own time. But at the same time that this was going on - I had opened the door to her apartment, we were getting ready to depart - and in that moment, her cat saw his chance and he took it. He dashed out. And raced up the stairs. Like: where ya goin' Charley? You're not gonna get OUT by going UP. So I went after him. Lugging my damn LIBRARY on my back. Up and up and up ... Charley, the little brat, would wait on each landing for me, looking right at me, like: Ya gonna catch me? Ya gonna catch me? And just as I would catch up with him, he would take off up the next flight. Brat! Finally, he was at the damn top of the building - nowhere to go - the door to the roof was right there - so as I approached, he lay himself down on the floor, tryiing to make himself as flat and unobtrusive as possible. Hysterical. Like: I can still see you Charley. You are not now two-dimensional, even though you seem to have a fantasy that you are!! I scooped him up in my arms and started back down. Charley submitted for about 2 flights, he lay in my arms, completely despondent, his paws sticking out into the blank air ... and eventually, he just could not deal with the indignity and the unfairness of his situation. He made a horrible deep-throat growling sound, almost like a moan - you could just hear the anger in that sound. He started squirming, flinging his body about. He hated me SO MUCH. "I know, Charley, I know ... it's just so awful ..." I arrived back at Allison's and deposited him on the floor. He immediately crawled under the table, to ponder the horrible nature of his own situation. And then Allison and I took off - opening the door again - and scurrying out - yes, SCURRYING - so that Charley couldn't escape again. "Close the door, close the door, close the door ..." It was a getaway. But the funniest thing, and why I'm writing about me chasing Charley - is that in the time I was gone - Allison somehow managed to become an expert on hippos. We were walking down her street - and she said, "I'm so excited to see that show on hippos. Did you know that they nurse their babies under water? Sometimes it's hard to find the right position so that the baby can find the teat under water - but that's how they do it. I'm not sure how the baby breathes ... but that's how hippos nurse." I was listening to this, not even questioning the fact that Allison somehow knew a lot about hippos. I was like, "Really? I had no idea ...." Finally I asked, "How do you know all this?" Allison said, "While you were chasing Charley - that's what they said on the show." Which somehow just struck me as SO FUNNY. I was out of the apartment for a total of 25 seconds, and in that time Allison had assimilated all of these random facts about hippos, which, 5 minutes later, she was spouting out of her mouth as though she had known these facts all her life. We were howling!!
-- Oh, and as we were going down her stairs to the street, we met up with a guy who was holding a big clunky old-fashioned movie camera. Like - a kind that needs FILM. Allison is a camera afficianado so she said, "God, what an amazing camera ... what kind is it?" The guy (who, I'm sorry, was just a hot dude - of the BLURPIEST KIND. I love me my blurpy man!!) stopped and said, "It's the kind of camera that eats hundred-dollar bills." We burst out laughing - and then we stood on the stoop of Allison's building - with the cupcake line stretching off into the distance - and talked with him for a while about his camera, and is he doing a documentary, and what kind of film does he uses ... The nicest thing about it was how open he was to just standing there and talking with us. People in New York are always in such a hurry. It was nice to just stand and talk with him, and not feel like he was itching to get away from us. Also, I kind of wanted to kiss him. And that's just the fact. Blurpy men holding old-fashioned movie cameras are okay by me.
-- So Allison and I headed off for the east side - talking about hippopotamuses the whole way.
-- We also just raved about the weather, we just kept talking about it. How we feel this surge of energy in the fall, how it's our favorite time of year ... At some point, a huge bug flew right into my mouth. That was a terrible experience. I mean, it really was. I'm still not really over it.
-- We picked up our tickets at the theatre. We had half an hour til the movie started - and we raced off to find something to eat, and quick. Since we would be descending into this 4 hour extravaganza.
-- We sat at a cute little restaurant - with dark wood walls, and black and white tile ... Our waitress hated us with an intensity that burned like a laser, because we were rushing her. We guzzled down a glass of wine a piece, Allison ordered a pizza - inhaled a slice - and then it was 3:10 and I was jittery ants in my pants girl - "Please! Let's go! Now! I don't want to miss a second!" Allison asked our ANGRY WAITRESS for a box to take the pizza in (ohmygod, she hated us so much, words can't even describe it) - so Allison put all of the slices into a pizza box. The box was obviously a pizza box. It said on it in bright red letters: PIZZA. Like, there was no camouflaging it. Allison was like, "Now ... do you think they won't let me take this into the theatre?" I was howling. "Uhm, yeah, they're not gonna let you take pizza in ..." Allison, joking, "But ... they won't know it's a pizza!" Holding the box up, so you could totally see the huge red letters: P I Z Z A. "How will they know it's a pizza?" As we hurried to the theatre, kind of hysterical, truth be told - Allison wrapped her jacket around the pizza box, and held it under her arm, and said to me, "Does this look really obvious?" I glanced at her, and BURST into laughter. Because it so clearly looked like a pizza box wrapped in a jacket. hahahahahahaha But hey, we breezed right by the ticket dude with no problem. Allison murmuring to me as we walked by them, "See? See?"
-- Village East cinema is gorgeous - I love love love seeing movies there. It's almost like ... the freakin' Alhambra or something. Moorish architecture - tiles, and weird mosaics - and the main theatre is MASSIVE - with a balcony. We sat in the balcony.
-- Oh, I forgot to tell this part. As we gulped down our wine in a frenzy, Allison said, "Okay, so I know nothing about this movie and I don't really know about the Russian revolution either - so tell me about it." So in the 20 minutes we had, I gave her a bullet-point version of the Russian revolution. I wish I had a transcript of what I said. It was ridiculous. "Okay, so the Bolsheviks came to power ... but there was infighting with the provisional government ... and then there was fight between the IWW and the AF of L ... and socialists round the world were looking for validation from the Soviets ... and in 1917 was the revoluton ... and the Bolsheviks tramped through the Winter Palace ... oh, and of course the czar and his family was gunned to death in a basement in Ekaterinburg ... and John Reed wrote this amazing book called 10 Days The Shook the World ..." I think I did a pretty good job, actually, in the limited time we had, with our fuming waitress slamming down our wine glasses in front of us. The Russian Revolution boiled down to a 20 minute summary. All those books I read are actually good for somethin'! Allison knew a lot of this shit already, of course - she is on a tear through biographies of people who lived through this period in history. She's now reading the Lindbergh biography by Scott Berg - and before that she read a massive biography of William Randolph Hearst ... That whole time in history - early 20th century into the 40s - is her passion. I told her she has to read 10 Days the Shook the World - just to see what all the fuss was about, and why journalists still revere John Reed as one of the best practicers of their craft. He is a marvelous writer. Kind of can't be touched. People imitate him to this day. Whatever you think of his views ... it's irrelevant. I'm talking about his skill as a writer. It cannot be denied. Great book. It just lives and breathes ... it's so first-hand.
-- Then we raced to the theatre with our camouflaged pizza box.
-- Found seats in the balcony. The place was packed. And you know how you can sense anticipation in the air? Like ... when you know you're not alone in your passion? I felt it at the NY Historical society a couple weeks ago - before the Alexander Hamilton night. The place was packed - and you just could feel that this was a crowd who was also totally passionate about the topic at hand. I love that feeling. Allison had raced downstairs to get some popcorn - and the movie started at that point. She actually missed this whole drama with this woman who was talking - and LOUDLY - through the first minute and a half of the movie. Literally: BLABBING HER HEAD OFF. At first people were like, "Sh". I was also a "Sh"er. But she ignored the 'sh"ing and kept BLABBING. Finally, people were shouting (from below, and from in the balcony): "DAMMIT. SHUT UP." Finally, she shut the fuck up. Moron. Clueless freakin' moron. But I loved it, in a way, because I felt like: Okay. I can work with this audience. Me and the rest of this audience? We're like THIS. We are in SYNC. Everyone was so INTO the experience ... and this woman was ruining it for all of us. So we joined forces and shamed her into shutting her big stupid mouth. Yay!!
-- Then Allison came back and we both settled in to just LIVING this movie.
-- I had two levels of consciousness going on ... 1. Experiencing the movie, on the big screen. Okay, no 3 levels. There was the "wow, look at it on the big-screen" level. 2. Enjoying the movie as though it was the first time. I've seen it so many times that I know vast swathes of it by heart, I know every scene, and yet - even though there's this familiarity with the whole thing, it's still fresh and new and painful and GORGEOUS ... no matter how many times I've seen it. And lastly: 3. Being aware of Allison next to me, and trying to see it thru her eyes. Loving being there with her, LOVING IT, loving experiencing the film with her. Occasionally she would whisper to me. A couple of times we reached out and grabbed hands. There's the scene of the fight between Beatty and Keaton - in the Greenwich Village apartment - Mitchell referenced it specifically in one of my posts about Reds, and how amazing the scene is. Beatty and Keaton, were, of course, a couple at the time of filming - and the scene, an argument that escalates - in a way that feels completley chaotic and real - has this feeling of such reality in it - you can feel that it's John Reed/Louise Byrant/Warren Beatty/Diane Keaton - there's such REAL emotion between the two of them - you don't know what is the character, what is the actor - all you know is, it's a fight that takes your breath away. She is unbeLIEVABLE in it - you feel like she doesn't know what is going to come out of her mouth next - in the way that you do when you are in a real fight. But she's UPSET, and he's UPSET ... It's real. That's all. It's REAL. One of my favorite scenes in the film - actually, it's one of my favorite scenes in ANY film. When the scene finally ended - as they came down into the denouement - the fight subsiding, the hurt and anger dissolving - and the two of them kiss in the dark room, their heads a silhouette against the light window - they have become one - we don't see two profiles, we just see the two of their heads together, a black cut-out ... Gorgeous. Allison whispered, "That's one of the most amazing scenes I have ever seen." I reached out and grabbed her hand. It was just so exciting for me to be there as she experienced this.
-- I had forgotten how great Paul Sorvino was in this film. Isn't he terrific? I loved his performance. Truly - there's the fight that he and Beatty have across the big room of delegates at the Socialist Party meeting - and it's real - neither of them are letting the other one finish a sentence - I barely know what they're fighting about - ha - I mean, I do kind of - but what's great about the movie is that even when you don't know what's really going on (and that's part of the greatness of the film, I think - it doesn't try to spell everything out - it's ground-level, it's happening right in front of us - the way events happen in life. There's no retrospect in the film - it's filmed like John Reed's book. We, in the beginning of the 21st century, know how this all turned out. We know that these people were fighting a losing battle. But they, in the moment, don't know that - and they play it that way. It's breathtaking.
-- Also I had forgotten how wonderful Gene Hackman is in his 2 scenes. He chews up the scenery, spits it out, and he's only been on screen for 5 minutes - but he looms large.
-- Jack Nicholson does his best work in his career in this film. His subtlest work, his most grown-up work. There's the great scene when Louise Bryant comes to see Eugene O'Neill in his Greenwich Village apartment - long after their affair has ended. She has been to Russia and has now come back. All a-flame with intensity about what she saw. O'Neill is completely unimpressed. And Nicholson has this dead-on monologue, where he nails her to the wall, basically. He calls her out on her hypocrisy: "You and Jack certainly have middle-class aspirations for a couple of revolutionaries ..." And his great line - I can't remember it word for word - but something like, "You know, it makes me skin crawl when I see an intellectual's eyes start to gleam when they talk about Russia." He is indisputably NOT swept away. Louise Bryant requires others to be swept away ... it seems essential to her. It's all very PERSONAL for her and Eugene is having none of it. He is fantastic in this scene. I love the line, "It's really sad to see that you two have gotten so serious." She totally gets the wind knocked out of her by him (for the second time - the first time is in that phenomenal scene in Provincetown when he tells her what it would be like if she were with HIM and not Jack Reed). Nicholson is wonderful. Just wonderful.
-- Beatty is fantastic. One of the things I really noticed this time around seeing it - maybe because it was on the big-screen - so his work loomed much larger - was how he plays his gradual illness. He is strapping and gorgeous and healthy at the beginning of the film. And of course they film out of sequence - so his gradual sickening, the gradual worsening of his health - had to be handled by Beatty out of sequence. And it's not like: Oh, one moment he's healthy, the next he's sick. No. Jack Reed gets sicker and sicker, progressively, through the film. You can feel him getting worse. Watch Beatty move through the second half of the film. Watch how his body language has changed. And it's subtle, he's not limping around like a hunchback - you just can tell that he is managing a low level of pain at all times. His back hurts, his stomach aches, it hurts to piss ... he's not well. And it keeps getting worse, because he is now in Russia, where there's no fresh produce, and scurvy intensifies, his high blood pressure gets higher ... by the end of the film, there's always a soft gleam of sweat over his face ... and also, on the big screen I noticed that in the last part of the film - his lips are always chapped to the degree that they are cracking and bleeding. It's subtle, again - it's just part of the character - but Beatty was so good at showing this man descending into illness. It happens AS he is doing other things ... which is how sickness happens in real life, usually. He did a marvelous job. Marvelous.
-- Jerzy Kosinski as Zinoviev was great.
-- Oh, at one point - it's back in America - and John Reed gets caught up in the infighting of the political parties - he becomes an activist. Again, it's subtle - not spelled out - but you can see him change. He gets colder. The ends justify the means. The enthusiastic idealistic writer at the beginning of the film is gone forever. He's now a revolutionary. His humor is gone. And it's all in how Beatty plays it. The script helps him out ... but it's all in his acting. There was one scene that happened - oh yeah - there's a meeting at Louise and Jack's house - and Eddie shows up, and he missed a meeting with someone from an opposing political party. He missed the meeting because his wife was hemorrhaging and he had to watch his kids while she went to the hospital. That actor playing Eddie ... He's got one feckin' scene and my God. (Looked him up. Jack Kehoe.) He's wonderful. But anyway, Beatty is enraged that the meeting was missed - "Why didn't you call one of us to replace you?" Eddie has no answer for it, he can't even look at Jack. Beatty is relentless. He won't let up until Eddie has been completely humiliated. Or "pacified" in the word of totalitarian dictatoriships. Pacified. Mm-hmm. "Pacification" means SHUTTING EVERYONE UP. Keaton watches this whole thing, standing back, and her face says it all. She pulls Beatty into the kitchen and says something like, "Don't you think you were a little hard on Eddie?" Beatty cannot even hear this. He says immediately, "When we get what we want, Eddie will be thankful." Or something like that. Walks away from her. Allison whispered, "He's lost his humanity." Yes. That is exactly what that scene is about. And that's part of Beatty's larger point about this revolution, and about revolutions in general.
-- And then later in the film - when John Reed is ready to leave Russia (he had traveled there to get recognition for the Communist Labor Party of America) - and Zinoviev (cutting up slices of lemon in his huge drafty office in an empty room of the Winter Palace - you can feel how cold it is in that palace, you can just feel how nothing works) won't let him leave. Zinoviev tells him he is needed in Russia in the propaganda department. The revolution has called him. He cannot turn back now. "You can always go back to your wife. But you can never come back to this moment." Reed is panicked - Beatty is great in this scene. You can already tell that he is not well. He needs to go home and recuperate his health. Reed says, "But ... I need to go back to America. I have urgent obligations there." Zinoviev stands up. "What obligations?" And suddenly, the whole air in the room changes. Everything gets very still and very icy. Normally, in a human world, when you say "I have urgent obligations" ... the response you get is, "Of course. Go do what you need to do and then come back. Of course." But this is a revolutionary world. Personal life has been abolished. There is nothing but the Party. (Again, Beatty does this without bashing you over the head with it. It just IS. This is what a revolution is like. Reed didn't really get that. He was an intellectual, an observer, a writer ... but once he got on the inside ... he found that there was no way back out.) So when Zinoviev asks him, quietly (and it's in this intractable way ... you just know that whatever Reed says will not satisfy this man), "What obligations?" Reed is struck dumb for a second. He just stands there. And finally he says, simply, such a human moment, "I have a family. I need to see my wife." But it's a new world now. And Reed helped to bring that world about. And there will be no going back. You are now married to politics, to revolution. It's a fantastic scene.
-- What I saw in that moment - as opposed to the moment when he berated poor Eddie for taking care of his family instead of going to meet up with a political party member - was the realization, in John Reed, that his personal life would always be important to him. Zinoviev, the others, they inhabit an abstract world of power and struggle. No room for the human heart. It is all revolutionary thought and action. Reed had been living that way for a while back in America - the struggle took over his heart - nothing mattered but winning - PEOPLE became OBJECTS ... But there, when confronted himself with the reality of that attitude, he is struck dumb. How can this man not understand that he had to go see his wife? He had been away from her for months. And while he was committed to the Russian revolution and to socialism ... he was an American. This is the moment for John Reed. The moment of no return. You see in him that ... all along ... all along in this fight ... he was identifying with the Russian people, swept away in the excitement of what it would mean for the workers of the world, etc. etc. ... but in that moment, all he wants to do is go home to America. Eugene O'Neill was right. Louise and Jack had "middle-class aspirations" (home, family, togetherness, dinners together, making love, putting up a Christmas tree, walking their dog) for a couple of revolutionaries. And Zinoviev here, in that cold icy room with the patterned wallpaper and treacherously high ceilings, is telling him, in no uncertain terms, that those days are done for Jack Reed. No more. You will stay here. With us. We will not LET you leave. (This, naturally, is when Reed tries to escape into Finland - and of course is imprisoned for months on end). But also, what is great about the scene between Zinoviev and Reed is that you can feel Stalin in that room. You can feel the environment being created that would allow Stalin to take power. It's early in the revolution - it's early on - but the stage is already set for Stalin. That's why that scene is so terrifying. Zinoviev, of course, was executed by Stalin in 1936. This is where the revolution was going. The coldness of that scene, the lack of pity for John Reed, the knowing lack of compassion for someone's personal obligations ... all of that was just setting the stage for Stalin to take over. Terrifying. Great scene. Well done, Warren.
-- And that scene by the train ... where she is there ... waiting for John Reed to get off ... Her face. Her face as she walks down that train platform. She has a kerchief around her head. Allison mentioned to me later, "Another actress might have totally over-acted that scene ... walking up and down that platform ... You can just see how in another actress' hands it could have been so melodramatic and over the top ..." But no. Keaton doesn't go down that path. She is doing exactly what you would do. She is doing what I saw people do on September 11. Holding up signs of their loved ones and racing from hospital to hospital, looking for their lost soul. There was a focus in those people's eyes, a fire, and also - a dreadful dreadful KNOWING that they would never find their beloved. And yet ... and yet ... you can't give up! You can't give up! Keep going. Keep going. Your heart ached when you saw those people. And watching Keaton move down that crowded trian platform, looking at everyone's face, looking for her beloved, scanning the train windows, peering off down the platform ... There are moments when a terror comes into those eyes, like a horror, she is already feeling the loss, and it is horrible ... but then the terror leaves because ... in the moment, there is too much to do. She must keep going, keep looking. She will overturn every blanket, she will peer into every face, because the next one might be him, the next one might be him ... I was watching her and I could feel my throat clog up. Just from the look in her eyes.
-- It was a truly memorable experience. Watching that movie on a Saturday afternoon, in a packed movie theatre, with my dear friend Allison. I'll never forget it.
-- We emerged, emotionally exhausted, emotionally exhilarated, into the piercing blue fall dusk.
-- A perfect day. One for the books.
September 17, 2006
Snapshot from last night
I was watching Guerrilla - a documentary about the Symbionese Liberation Army (whatever) and the kidnapping of Patty Hearst. It's really good - some great commentary from former SLA members - I mean, you want to throw stuff at the screen (at least I did) - but it's really interesting. The Hearst parents standing on their front steps, poor Steve Weed with his horrendous moustache coming out to the mike stand to talk about his "feelings" - the whole thing was really interesting. Then you listen to Patty's broadcasts - and you listen to them change. By the end, she is obviously reading prepared statements. The first ones are like: "Mom, Dad ..." (big long sigh) "I'm fine ... really ..." Then when the food drive was a bust (or whatever - seemed like a bust) - she comes on and says, in that creepy deadpan voice, "Dad, it sounds like you've made a big mess of things ..."
Uhm, Patty?
Then you hear the broadcast where she announces she is joining the Siamese Cat Liberation Fuckwads.
Broadcasts keep coming. There's the battle with the police which ends up with the house burning down, SLA members trapped inside. Then comes the next broadcast and there's that deadpan voice, flatlining, "My sister Miznoon ... her eyes were cold and full of death" - or something like that - and to Patty - that was a compliment!! She was saying how much she MISSED Miznoon, she was saying what was GREAT about Miznoon. (Imagine: "God, I just love my boyfriend so much. He has so many amazing qualities." "That is so awesome. What are some of his amazing qualities?" "Oh, his eyes are cold and full of death." "Man, that is so great.")
I got increasingly annoyed with Patty's broadcasts. Oh, excuse me. Tania's broadcasts.
I was in the kitchen washing dishes, listening to one of the broadcasts, emanating from the other room.
Tania's creepy flat voice, going on and on. She loves Willie. Or Cujo. Or whatever he calls himself. She loves her cold deathly friends. She is taking the fight to the people. She loves her "brothers and sisters in the Symbiotic Liberace Army" - and then she says something about "And the fascist pig media ..."
She'd said those words before, but I had finally had it.
I'm rinsing out a glass. I hear her dead voice say the words "and the fascist pig media" - and I promptly shout into the other room, where the movie is playing,
"Oh shut the fuck UP, Tania!!!!"
September 14, 2006
Snippets. No context.
"So what do you want?"
"I want the whole package."
"You want the whole package."
"Yup."
"Husband, kids, picket fence."
"I don't need the picket fence. I'm too urban."
"But everything else?"
"Yup. But I have about two eggs left. I need to get cracking."
Laughter. "You have two eggs left."
"You think that's funny?"
"Uhm, er, no. Not funny at all."
"I reek of Ben Gay."
"It smells like mint."
"I always wondered what Katherine Dunn looked like."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know. I always wondered if she was a dwarf. Or an albino. She seemed to have such an understanding of what is done to those who have some sort of deformity. How they are treated."
"True. But we do the same thing to celebrities - to the freakily beautiful people of this world. They're treated like they are a sideshow in a cage."
"That's so true. Well, as YOU well know."
"Fuck you."
"Dave Eggers is like Quentin Tarantino. He appropriates pop culture, comments on it. And he is REVILED for it."
"I know. So true."
"But at the same time - they are both so generous to talent. They encourage others, Tarantino resurrects people's careers ... Neither of them are selfish in their success."
"I loved Eggers' memoir."
"How about his novel?"
"Hated it."
"Yeah. Uh-huh. But still."
"Totally."
"Right?"
"Absolutely."
"I mean - the Method? Who gives a shit about the Method anymore?"
"I'm of the 'bang bang you're dead' school of acting myself."
"I had a fuck buddy for 11 years."
"You had a fuck buddy for 11 years."
"Yup."
"Uhhhhm. That wasn't a fuck buddy."
"It seems like every year there's only room for one big book to get all the press."
"Uhm. Yes. Underworld?"
"Well, White Noise is one of my favorite novels."
"White Noise is a wonderful book - but Underworld...."
"What about it?"
"Dude. GET AN EDITOR. NOW. It's 1,000 pages long. It was RIDICULOUS. But that book sucked up all the airspace for a good YEAR. I finally read it ..."
"Good?"
"Well - the first 60 pages are spectacular. Seriously. Writing doesn't get any better."
"Really."
"Yup. It's the kinda writing that brings you to your knees. But the rest of it? For God's SAKE, WHY DO I CARE ABOUT THE CHESS TEACHER ON PAGE 800? I don't. I mean, it's a good book -but to be touted as literally the ONLY book to read that year ... No. There was no room for any other book. That's just not right."
"I had some issues with the ghetto bus."
"No!!!!! What is going ON?"
"I wandered around on ... East Boulevard?"
"Boulevard East? Oh for God's sake. What bus did you get on?"
"The ghetto bus."
"No, it was the wrong ghetto bus."
"It's okay. I asked a cop for directions and he ended up driving me home. He was really nice."
"Oh my God. That is horrible."
"So. What. Is the Baby Boomer, like, in his 80s now?"
"No. He's not in his 80s. Jagoff. He's in his 50s. Thank you very much."
"You just didn't see yourself the way I saw you."
"I didn't, did I?"
"Nope."
"And within 5 minutes, I saw Tilda Swinton and Vincent Gallo walk by."
"No way!"
"I NEVER see stars. And within 5 minutes ... I saw--"
"I saw Vincent Gallo's penis."
"We all saw Vincent Gallo's penis."
"My cleavage is completely out of control. It's only 10 am. I'm sorry. It's so inappropriate."
"It's cool. So ... boobs ... wanna get outta here?"
"For some reason, there is a big libertarian streak in the whole magician community."
"Yeah! I've noticed that. Why IS that?"
September 9, 2006
Snapshots with Michael
-- Lights out our first night. He lay on the blow-up mattress on the floor right below my bed. I lay in bed. Lights out. I lay there in silence, my eyes wide open, and I was just overly conscious of him being RIGHT THERE. After all these years. It was dark, but all I could think of was of him lying on the floor. Silence between us. Darkness. For maybe a minute. As we both lay there pretending to go to sleep. Suddenly, randomly, he started to laugh. And then I started to laugh. And then we both lay there, in the darkness, laughing for a good MINUTE. For no reason that we could really explain. There is no reason. But it was funny nonetheless.
-- After the laughter calmed down - and it took some time - I said, through the darkness, "Okay, I have to get something off my chest. If I fart in my sleep ... PLEASE. Do not judge." Michael started laughing - and then we were off laughing again - and Michael said, "Why would I JUDGE a fart? Like ... what's to judge?" Then began a game, spontaneously - where we both took turns saying increasingly horrible activities, followed up by, "PLEASE. Do not judge." ("If I blah blah blah ... PLEASE. Do not judge." Etc.) The game ended with a BANG when Michael said, "If I get up in the middle of the night, come over to your bed, and piss all over you .... PLEASE. Do not judge." Then there was a pause and I had to say, "Uhm, I'm totally gonna judge you if you do that."
-- I had no idea how deeply I actually slept and now that Michael has informed me of it, I am rather alarmed for my own safety, in terms of fire drills and cat burglars. But apparently my alarm clock, the loudest alarm clock in the world, set to the most obnoxious radio station in the world - takes a good 15 minutes to actually wake me up. Apparently I lie there in peaceful DEAD TO THE WORLD slumber - as DJs shriek about sex and traffic and music and hip hop music plays and general morning hilarity ensues - and I do not wake up. Eventually I do - but Michael informed me that he almost thought I was in a comatose state, the alarm was so loud and there was NO response from my bed. He also said that the alarm was so loud and so sudden that he almost wet the bed. I am laughing out loud. He finally "snoozed" my own alarm for me. And went back to sleep. 10 minutes later, the alarm goes off again - and the DJs shriek about blowjobs and Eminem and there are sound effects and hip hop - and STILL I lie in peaceful slumber. Poor Michael - who had been traveling the entire day before - who got in at midnight - snoozed the alarm AGAIN. I am laughing out loud thinking of his torment. Its killing me. Finally, the damn thing penetrated my consciousness - and up I got, oblivious to the agony Michael had been thru. Lalala, I'm up now, let's make some coffee ... It was only later that Michael told me the entire drama.
-- This afternoon I sat on my bed, looking over my Cymbeline script. A slight movement caught my eye and I glanced up to see the following horrifying action movie take place on my drapes: An absolutely MASSIVE spider, who had to be at LEAST .5 millimeters across, was racing up the side of my curtains. Yes. Racing. He was in a huge hurry, MASSIVE legs scurrying him along - and then I watched him do this (well, as you can imagine - first I screamed bloody murder and jumped off my bed in a panic - but then I stood back and watched this): He reached the top of my curtains and then propelled himself off like a damn bungee jumper - leaping down onto my bed, the bastard, where he took a tiny horrifying rest (that's MY bed, you asswipe!!), and then he began climbing back up his own damn web that he left behind. It was a small Adventure-Travel exploit happening on MY curtains. He was taking over my whole apartment, and due to his hurrying energy I assumed he knew I was onto him. But I couldn't figure out how to kill him because ... he was on the curtains ... I couldn't throw a book at my curtains ... because that would just bat him off into the atmosphere, where he could flail through the air and COME AND GET ME. All .2 millimeters of him.
-- He is now peacefully hanging out in a hammock of own making off of my curtain rod. I hate him intensely. I mostly hate his ARROGANCE, his in-your-face defiance. He did all of this right in front of me. As though he didn't care.
-- And so just now Michael and I had this phone exchange: He: "Hi - I probably won't be home until late." I said, "Oh, that's cool - I have one thing to ask - When you come back ... would you mind killing a spider for me?" "Uhmmmmm ... sure ... do you think it will be there when I get back? Or will it somehow crawl directly into your mouth?" "I think he's napping. He'll be there. Do you have any ethical issues with killing a spider?" "None whatsoever." "Oh, I'm so happy." "So ... you're gonna be okay sharing space with it until I get home?" "It's an uneasy peace. But I think it will maintain."
-- I love talking with someone who also knows the background to the filming of this scene. Somehow that scene came up. Oh, I know - we were talking about "the Method" and what a bunch of crap it can be. Hahaha Also how actors like Spencer Tracy or Cary Grant are as good as it gets - and Michael brought up Cagney. I said, "That scene in White Heat ..." Michael said, "The prison scene?" "Oh. My. God." Cagney knew what the scene would require of him. He knew he would have to just "go there". So he said to Raoul Walsh, the director, before fiming it: "Just follow me." Meaning with the camera. Because he knew he couldn't worry about hitting marks, or keeping it in control. Gives me goosebumps. But I love it because Michael shares the same values and passions and interests as I do. We love that kind of shit.
-- Oh, and this morning? I drank my coffee out of THE cup RIGHT AT HIM. "Hey, Michael. Ya see this? Ya get a load of this???"
September 6, 2006
Weekend snapshots
-- First and foremost: there was the wild ocean.
-- We walked down to Turtle Soup - a restaurant right on the water - we could see the heaving grey waves over the wall - which, on a calm day, you can't see. You normally can just see the horizon, the blue ocean horizon. But on Saturday - the water was so high you could see the whitecaps rolling in. The air filled with flying chunks of sea foam. The wind so hard that Katie's "dump receipt" was whipped out of her hands, smacked Jean in the face, and then promptly flew 2 blocks away. Katie ran to get it. Why was that so funny to me?? She had just dropped off a thousand pounds of garbage at the dump and she was DAMNED if she would lose that receipt.
-- Oh, and on our way back to dinner, we had a spitting contest. Spitting INTO the wind. Awesome.
-- There was an hour and a half wait for a table at Turtle Soup. It was a stormy wind-wracked wave-drenched Saturday night - and basically the whole town had come out to stand by the sea wall to watch Mother Nature. And now it was time for dinner. So we walked to PJ's Pub, the wind now at our backs, pushing us along. Jean was almost blown away.
-- Big dinner. Lots of talk. Sangria.
-- Then we headed over to The Ocean Mist. The ocean heaving itself towards the shore, foam rushing underneath the deck of the bar - the deck where we were standing. The white floating seagulls had flown off for calmer landscapes - because it was pretty damn wild out there.
-- I became obsessed with "Tamborine Lady" and I am working on a piece about her. She's a modern-day Tennessee Williams character - even down to the bum leg. I so wanted to talk to her, but that meant I would have had to interrupt her wild gyrating tamborine playing. Seriously, I know it's rude and everything, but I couldn't stop staring at her. It would be like if Blanche Dubois walked into a fisherman's bar, with her gloves and her ancient jewelry, and sat in a dark shadowy corner, fanning herself. You'd want to stare at her, too. Tamborine Lady. I have thought about her nearly constantly ever since my first glimpse of her. She had long thick white hair. And eyes with an intense frightening gleam in them. The Ocean Mist is a shack on the beach, cavernous, big, pool tables, a deck, you can actually FEEL the pound of the waves when you're inside - there's music, a crowd of regulars, food coming out of the kitchen ... and Tamborine Lady. With her rituals, and her otherworldly preoccupations.
-- Oh, and big discussion earlier about the Narnia books. I had set up my Mac for everyone and had shown them my geek-a-mo slideshow that I created of Cary Grant photos. Then came the big Narnia discussion and I realized that - with Sean - I was in the presence of a true Narnia FANATIC and I had best just get out of the way. It would be like someone trying to convince me that Cary Grant was born in America, or some other horribly WRONG thing. Like: Okay, you're obviously an amateur at this obsession thing, not to be rude, but I am an expert - and there is NO WAY you can compete with me. NO WAY. Don't even try, CHiPs. So talking with Sean was like that. It was too damn funny - because he caught himself at one point, like: "Wow. I just sounded like a total geek, didn't I?" I said, to set him at ease, "I just showed you a slideshow I created of all of my Cary Grant photos." Bursts of laughter. That was really all I needed to say. No need to be embarrassed about being a dork in MY presence - because when I'm nuts about something, I'm NUTS. We all talked about the Narnia movie. I asked Sean what he thought of it - knowing how important his opinion would be, seeing as he was a Narnia expert and all. He looked doubtful, hesitant ... and he said, regretfully, "I didn't like Mr. Tumnus' legs."
Now THAT is an obsessive.
August 16, 2006
Things seen/experienced in the woods this past weekend
-- a shooting star
-- the splash of jumping fish in the lake after dark
-- a feast of chicken on the grill
-- my pregnant friend Kerry lying out on the float in the lake, on her back, wearing sunglasses, wearing her bathing suit, with her pregnant belly rising magnificently to meet the sun
-- the exploding glory of a potato cannon - (constructed following the directions in a book called Backyard Ballistics) - We had a potato war with a dude across the lake who ALSO had his own potato cannon
-- campfire on the beach, all of us sitting wrapped up in blankets (chilly night air!!) around the fire
-- delicious fruit smoothie drinks
-- a cool morning run with my friends
-- a daddy long-legs hanging out on the underside of the umbrella table. He did not move for the entire time we were there. WTF?? What is his purpose in life? Make a web ... or SOMETHING. Don't just sit up there, you freak of nature.
-- the Big Dipper
-- a 70 year old woman windsurfing on a windless day - literally standing on her board with the sail up - in the middle of a lake so still it was like glass. She was 70. Apparently, her 80 year old husband had been out earlier on the windsurfer and got caught in some of the greenery protruding out into the lake - and Mike had gone to save him. The 80 year old man said something like, "The only issue is with my defibulator ..." A windsurfing dude, on a windless day, with a defibulator
-- endless conversation, wonderful, my wonderful friends
-- we had a surprise baby shower for Kerry that night ... it was great fun!! Also: keylime pie. mmmmmmmmmmmmm
-- we heard all about the nearby state fair and how Mike basically took over. He won the watermelon-eating contest - and then he randomly entered a peach and cherry pie he baked - and WON - much to the chagrin of the local ladies who didn't like being shown up by a man. His ribbons were pinned up all over the bulletin board
-- I read some of my Gene Wilder autobiography during a slow lazy afternoon
-- paddle boats
-- sunblock - major obsessive sunblock ... we had the spray-on sunblock - we had 15, 40, 65, 210 ... We talked about it constantly.
-- cool cool lake water, heavenly
-- outdoor shower. Omigod. I wish I could shower outside every single day. Seriously. Is there anything better? We all took showers just for the fun of it. "Gonna take another shower now!!"
-- salt and vinegar potato chips. GET THEM AWAY FROM ME.
June 13, 2006
Boring stuff
-- I have now graduated in my life to a higher thread count. I have been living for years with kinda scratchy low-thread-count sheets, because I never wanted to spend the money for the higher thread-count. But after rolling around in Allison's bed a couple weeks ago, and glorying in the SOFTNESS of those SHEETS ... I figured that I was no longer willing to scrimp on the thread-count. I now have the softest bestest most scrumptious-est sheets ever. Going to sleep is a newfound pleasure.
-- I'm reading Orwell's collected essays now. I've read all his political ones before - but not his book reviews, and his personal essays. His essay about his boarding school upbringing ("Such, Such Were the Joys" ...) is devastating. His honesty takes my breath away. It's an indictment. On all counts. His essay on Dickens is ENORMOUS - a mini-book ... and I'm looking forward to reading that one next.
-- I watched Shopgirl the other night and ended up crying myself to sleep. Literally - like Diane Keaton in Something's Gotta Give. I have no idea if it really is that powerful or if it's just my mindset right now - no way to tell. It cut me to the core. I thought it was a tremendously moving and serious film. During the opening shots - which is a helicopter shot of LA from above - long, slow, and very very "omniscent" - that was the word that came to me. It was like God looking down, indifferent to all of us. Anyway, as I watched the opening of the film, knowing that this was going to be a small story, a delicate 3-way story ... I thought to myself, "This camera stuff is a bit ponderous and omniscent for a story like this one ..." Two minutes later, Steve Martin's voice over comes in: "I think for Mirabelle, we need to find an omniscent narrator ..." or something like that. So the omniscence I sensed was appropriate. I felt really smart. That was the point of that story. How smart I felt.
-- Every year I say to myself: "Make sure you avoid the city on the day of the Puerto Rican parade!" It's the worst parade of the year. Sorry, Puerto Ricans. Glad you're proud of yourselves! Your parade SUCKS. It's the WORST. But every. single. year I forget and I find myself in, like, Times Square, right in the middle of it. It's so annoying. This year was no different. I really need to remember next year - put it in my calendar or something so I stay OFF THE ISLAND that day.
-- Hard to believe that this is actually real, and not air-brushed. So so gorgeous.
May 9, 2006
Grade school snapshots
I remember sitting outside the classroom with Betsy, and we had a little old turntable - extension cord going into the room - and we played The Beatles - this one. Over and over. The green apple in the center of the vinyl spinning round and round.
I remember the brou-haha when Steve W. put his head through a window. He was running a race with another kid and he couldn't stop himself and went plummeting through the kindergarden window head-first. Betsy and I, blissfully listening to the Beatles across the playground, were called out of our reverie by the tragedy. (He was fine, by the way, eventually - but it was a very bloody scary day at the grade school!)
I remember we would traipse through the woods looking for Indian arrowheads. We always believed we found some. Those woods were crawling with arrowheads.
I remember the smell of the kickball, the squeaky feel of it in my hands. The dust in the field.
I remember the dome on the playground. The dome. Where little children could break their frickin' BACKS during recess. And there we were, dangling all over it, like little chimps. The dome is no longer. We all laughed about it and how dangerous it was at our reunion.
For some reason I remember so vividly that we had a 'debate' in 6th grade. We had teams - and we were assigned a position on a certain topic - and we had to research it and then debate our side. It was great practice because even if you actually disagreed with the side you were assigned to - you had to debate FOR that side. A good debater doesn't only rely on personal conviction. Debating is a SKILL. Of course we were 11 years old - but the whole thing was very serious. The boys had to wear suits, the girls dressed up - there was a lectern - we had to each go up, make our speech, listen to the opposing side - and then come up and make our rebuttals. It was great because we had to work as teams. (Uhm - did I say we were 11?) The topic was: Does violence in cartoons have an effect on the kids who watch them? Funny - at this point, we were pretty much talkin' about ROADRUNNER, mkay?? I was on the side that the Roadrunner's antics DO have a negative effect on kids. (Uhm - us.) Now I already had strong opinions about this and felt that cartoons did NOT have a bad effect on kids. I watched Roadrunner every week and you didn't see me dropping anvils on people willy-nilly. But I took my position and I stuck to it. My debate partner was Andrew W. This was at the HEIGHT of our love affair which culminated in a certain spitball. Ahem. My love for him was beyond anything I have ever felt for any other man. I swear to God. My heart just SOARED at the smallest thing. I remember I had to go up to make a rebuttal - one kid on the other side had said, "But we see the creatures in cartoon get right back up again after getting thrown off a cliff - it's obvious that they're okay and that it's fake." Oooh, I saw my in and I took it!! I got up and said, "So if the characters in cartoons DON'T get hurt when they fall off a cliff, then what will stop kids from saying 'I won't get hurt if I throw myself off a cliff.'" And I heard Andrew mutter, "Yes!" behind me, as though I were Mike Eruzione making a goal or something. We won the debate. It was a glorious peak in my love life.
I remember, more than anything else, that Betsy and I were so into Oliver! (I mean, besides the Beatles) that every single day we would perch on top of the jungle gym at the recess and sing through the entire score. You think I exaggerate? I do not. We even sang Boy for Sale. We sang it ALL. And here's the best part: crowds of small children would gather around the bottom of the jungle gym and listen. Betsy and I were totally the BOMB. Oh - and even better than that: the school play in 6th grade was Oliver. Betsy and I had a freak-out about this that is difficult to describe or even re-live. We were FIERCE. We HAD to be in this show. I can't remember if there were auditions - but I do remember the day when the cast was announced by our music teacher, Mrs. Shea (she was also my piano teacher). Mrs. Shea read out: "Nancy will be played by Betsy!" HUGE gasp from behind me - Betsy was sitting behind me - hand clamped over her mouth - HUGE eyes. Then: "The Artful Dodger will be played by Sheila!" HUGE gasp from me - and Betsy's hands gripped onto my shoulders from behind - literally clawing at me with tense excitement. And finally: "Fagan will be played by J!" J was sitting next to Betsy - another great friend - and this bit of casting was TRULY the wild card. Nobody saw this one coming. Betsy and I - while we were thrilled to get those great parts - kinda knew we would be cast ... but J. as Fagan ... Nobody was more surprised than J. I remember turning around to gape at her in utter shock and wonder, and she had slid herself all the way down in her seat, until her torso was completely truncated. Her eyes were enormous, glimmering, terrified, thrilled.
I remember a fish tank smashed and my hand got cut open. I stlil have the scar.
Two things were paramount in my life as influences: Land of the Lost and Little House on the Prairie. Oh, and Witch Mountain too. Tia? Fuggedaboutit. I wanted to BE her.
May 7, 2006
Culture snapshots: I am way behind everyone else
-- I had a couple hours to kill in the train station - waiting to go down to Philadelphia - and so I bought The Da Vinci Code - which I have not read. I had read the first page of it 2 years ago, and rolled my eyes at the breathless almost-constantly italicized prose. I knew I wanted to read it - because it's a phenomenon and I want to be up to date but I decided to wait for it to come out in paperback. Ahem. YEARS WENT BY. No paperback. Unbelievable!!!! Well, finally - they have released it in paperback - just in time for the movie coming out - so I bought it. And I started to read it. And I finished it a day and a half later. I could not put the thing down. It is complete BALDERDASH but I still could not put it down. I had NO idea what would happen ... although I guessed that Teabing was too good to be true (not immediately - but when he turned out to be a bad guy, I realized I had been waiting for that moment) ... Anyway. My first assessment of the prose, based on the first page, was accurate. Everything is italicized. Everything is a cliffhanger. But ... but ... you MUST turn the page. YOU MUST. It's obvious why it is such a crazy bestseller. I just HAD to find out what would happen. And at the end - at Rosslyn - I even got a little misty with the whole family reunion thing. It is not high art, and it is not great literature - but it so works in its own little genre that I have just got to tip my hat. I don't read books like that - I just don't - give me Bronte or Dickens or Joyce, please, I get impatient with modern fiction. Especially runaway bestsellers. It's just not my taste. I like WRITERS who can WRITE. Ian McEwan, John McGahern, Michael Chabon, AS Byatt. The writing hooks me in. And Dan Brown is not a good writer. But this? This ... story? This ... phenom? I. Could. Not. Put. It. Down. And I had really long days in Philadelphia. I would wake up at 5 am - walk across the street to the Dunkin Donuts in the dark dawn - get a coffee - go back to my motel room (Please ....... Shirts & Shoes Required) - set myself up at the little table, and do some of my work - for an hour or so ... and then ... my fingers itching, the book radiating a magnetic force ... I would open Da Vinci Code. Hats off, Dan Brown. Couldn't put the damn thing down, balderdash and all!!
-- Watched all of Greys Anatomy - the first season - none of which I had seen before. I have honestly just become a HUGE fan of this show. It's so DIFFERENT from other "hospital shows" and I can't quite pinpoint the difference. Perhaps it's because it's really about the inner emotional life of "Grey" herself ... with her perceptive and melancholy voiceovers opening and closing the show. It's about her growth as a human being, her journey. And also - it seems that the REAL theme of the show has nothing to do with medicine. The REAL theme is relationships - and even more than that: unrequited love. That feeling you get when you love someone so much that you ache ... but you can't have them ... and because you are an adult and not a kid, you have to suck it up, and be a good sport about it, and life moves on, and I'm okay, and we can both behave like adults ... but the reality is is that it ACHES. There's something very sad and very bittersweet flitting around on the outskirts of this show. The music choices, the voiceovers, the way certain situations are resolved (I am thinking of the one show where Izzy is angry at her mother, she never speaks to her mother ... and yet she spends the entire show trying to make cupcakes like her mom did ... and they aren't coming out right, yet she won't call her for the missing ingredient ... The cupcakes are a side plot ... and yet they keep coming up, in a recurring way, throughout the episode - so the last moment of the show, when we see Izzy pick up the phone, and say, "Hi Mom ... it's Cricket ..." - it just packs a huge punch.) The show really EARNS its weekly catharsis. Catharsis is actually easy to come by - and lots of shows generate fake drama in order that the audience will be on the edge of their seats. The show Third Watch was one long extended fake drama. Yuk. But Grey's Anatomy seems to really invest in each and every one of those characters ... they are all REAL ... so that when the end of each episode comes, we in the audience are actually left with some real feelings about them. Whatever response they get from us is EARNED.
April 30, 2006
Party snapshots
My party was fun. It meant so much to me to see everyone there - to look around the room and see all the family faces ... in my space!! Siobhan was there, Kerry and Adam, Liam and Lydia, Marianne.
Kerry immediately began to re-organize my closet.
"So." She said, staring at the controlled chaos. Long long pause. "What's happening with that pile of shoes there?"
"Uhm ... nothing's happening with it ... it's, uhm, it's a pile of shoes ..."
hahahahahahaha She should hire herself out. I am telling you. She's a genius of organization. So now I need to go get a tall hamper, some kind of shoe holder - either to hang from the clothing rack or a stand-alone piece - and a couple of other items. All of which can be obtained at an organization store nearest me.
Other party moments:
-- We IMDB'd no less than 15 people.
-- Red Sox talk.
-- We discussed junk drawers. Liam shouted, "It's a man's prerogative to have a junk drawer!!"
-- Lydia told us about her latest job, which sounds very exciting. Funny story. It also involves IMDB. I cannot imagine a universe without IMDB.
-- Red Sox talk.
-- I have no "N" on my laptop keyboard because the whole thing is falling apart. Kerry must have noticed this early on in the night, but said nothing about it. 2 hours later, the subject of laptops came up. I said, "Mine tends to overheat ..." Kerry interjected, calmly and kindly, "You also have no N."
-- Kerry told a tale of her afternoon with a certain ex Red Sox player and his wife. It involved playing Catchphrase in the breakfast nook. She played Catchphrase in the breakfast nook with ... a famous famous ex- Red Sox player. Marianne was SHOUTING across the room. "I HATE you. What - you can't text me? What am I, chopped liver? I can't BELIEVE I haven't heard this story." Kerry would continue on with her story ... and Marianne kept interjecting: "I HATE YOU. I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DIDN'T TEXT ME DURING THIS WHOLE THING." Kerry kept telling the story. Marianne shouted, "YOU PLAYED CATCHPHRASE IN THE BREAKFAST NOOK. I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS." hahahahahahaha
-- I love my family because we all revere Freddie Mercury so much that it's almost a religious experience. Nobody tries to be logical, nobody tries to say, "Yes, but ..." Nobody ever says the worst phrase in the history of the English language: "Well, yes and no ..." (Ew. When anyone greets my wild enthusiasm about something with a tepid "well, yes and no" - I immediately want to yank the giant STICK out of that person's ASS.) So no, there is no "well yes and no" with us, in terms of Freddie. We LOVE the guy. We LOVE the guy. We all just had a HUGE Freddie Mercury and Queen love-fest last night. Something about Queen just gives me goosebumps - nobody like them. Nobody like them. I played them "Barcelona" - just because it's not very well-known - even though when Liam and Lydia and I went to see the Losers Lounge tribute, they did THAT SONG. He wrote it for the Barcelona Olympics - and it's this big sweeping opera-esque song ... a duet with an opera singer. So at the Losers Lounge tribute, they got an opera singer to come down to Bowery Ballroom ... oh, it was awesome! Anyway - we listened to "Barcelona" last night - just ... randomly RAVING about what a feckin' GENIUS the guy was. How BIG he was. How full of LOVE he was. You can tell. There's not one bit of him that holds back - or hides who he is. John Wayne always said, about acting, "If you're going to make a gesture, just make it." Good or bad - just MAKE it. The only way you can tell if it's the wrong gesture is if you do it 100%. MAKE the gesture. Don't sketch it in, don't do it halfway, don't hold back. Make it. Be willing to fail. Be willing to look foolish. Freddie Mercury didn't know how to NOT "make the gesture". You can hear it in his lyrics, and also in his voice - how he sings, how fully he is present. It also helps that he just has to have had one of the most amazing voices in rock and roll history. Just in terms of natural talent. Truly an extraordinary performer. Nobody like him. The O'Malleys love Queen.
Obviously.
-- Red Sox talk
-- The talk turned to a certain cult and a certain baby having just been born into said cult and I started to talk ... and then stopped. "Okay. Look out. I am now going to completely DOMINATE this conversation." And I did.
-- Hilarious, though. I made some WILD claim about the couch-jumper. Something that I believe, in my heart, is true. Liam said, "How do you know that?" He expected me to back it up with documentation at LEAST. In a fervent tone, I replied, "I've just got a feelin' in my gut about it." hahahahaha Sheila. That's not valid.
But oh, it is fun!
-- Red Sox talk.
-- I just loved looking around and seeing them all there.
-- As they left, I heard Liam (for some reason) say something about translating "Oh Canada" into Spanish. hahahahahaha I love my family.
Jean and Rachel and Regina and Ian and Emma and Tom and Betsy were all missed!! I'll have to plan another one.
Oh, and we didn't run out of food. I had plenty. Phew.
April 15, 2006
Snapshots
-- Walking down over the viaduct into Hoboken. Hot shimmery morning. The skyline of New York like a mirage. Misty smudged buildings, pale pale blue.
-- Listening to S & M on the ol' iPod as I charged down the viaduct - the concert Metallica did with the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra. Geeky moment #1 of the day: Listening to "Call of Ktulu" and suddenly TEARING UP, yes - tears rolled down my face. Why? Because I suddenly became aware of these classical musicians, I could HEAR them - and ONLY them - it was like my ears honed in suddenly on only them - working their asses off in the background. The violins were just killing me. I guess in that moment I became aware of the collaboration in that entire event, and I found it intensely moving. So I wept on the viaduct. Geek.
-- Met up with my tax lady. I only had to wait for a little bit - my appointment was at a certain time. As I waited, I read Christopher Hitchens' essay on Lucky Jim by Kingsley Amis (it's part of Hitchens' collection Love, Poverty, and War - a truly astonishing work - you really get the breadth of Hitchens' scope - it's incredible. Politics, poetry, culture, Trotsky, Graham Greene, Evelyn Waugh - and Joyce!! Just wait til Bloomsday - I'll be posting his thoughts on Joyce. Amazing!!) Anyway, I've never read Lucky Jim - but obviously Hitchens is a huge fan - and his essay about that book is LAUGH OUT LOUD funny. I was SNORTING. I'm not kidding. Tears again, flowing down my face, in H & R Block. Tears of laughter. I am clearly volatile emotionally, and should go away to a rest home for a while. Now I need to read Lucky Jim.
-- While I waited for tax lady, I heard a skirmish happen. Some bitch who had her kid in a stroller started arguing with my tax lady. I couldn't really get the details, but emotionally I knew exactly what was going on. At the end of my appointment with my tax lady (hahaha I've been going to her for 3 years now) - she said something like, "I'm sorry about that argument earlier ... Did you hear any of it?" I said, "Yeah. From her voice it sounded like she was one of those people who have a serious sense of entitlement - even though she waited til the last minute to file her taxes. SHE was in the wrong, but she'll never admit it. Like - she has no respect for what you do, and she's just all entitled about her right to be a totally awful person if things don't go her way." Tax lady looked at me, kind of stunned, and said, "You picked up on all that? That's exactly right." This is what happens when you can list "people-watching" as one of your main hobbies.
-- Went immediately to Barnes & Noble following my appointment and bought Lucky Jim. No time like the present. Thanks, Hitchens!!
-- Watched Riding Giants last night. Holy motherfuckin' SHIT! Maverick's - the shots of the waves at Maverick's are just ... EVIL. Mother Nature as EVIL. I mean ....
Excuse me? You gotta be kiddin' me, right?
-- More iPod listening during my run this afternoon - my mix of Liz Phair stuff. Random geek thoughts: 2 Liz Phair songs completely describe 2 of my relationships - 2 members of the triumvirate .. They are relationships that even I have a hard time describing. But today! Running along the misty hot Hudson! Liz Phair: "Supernova" - perfect description of relationship with Window-Boy. That's IT. I've been trying to write about him for years, trying to ... describe it. I last saw him in 2003. I said, "I wrote a short novel based on you and me." Which is true. He glanced at me and said, deadpan, "Sheila, you could write a novel based on the last 5 minutes." hahahahahaha So true - at least where he is concerned. But "Supernova" by Liz Phair is a perfectly condensed description of ... THAT. It just hit me today. Then 3 songs later came "Rock Me" - realization that it's a perfect description of the relationship with Michael. Even the TUNE of it ... that happy free tune ... Yup. That's it. But mainly the lyrics ... She's so specific in her lyrics (think of Stratford-on-Guy - which is, to me, an entire MOVIE in my mind, which is her point - love that song) - but in her "love" songs (they're always describing situations where things are a little bit more messed up than you normally find in conventional love songs - hence, my love for them) - but because of those details, you can get the relationship, they seem very real and quirky - and I've heard those songs a gazillion times and never heard my own life in them. The only way I can talk about those guys is to write long-ass essays about them ... but she GOT it. Geek realization.
-- Lots of writing and research to do tonight.
April 8, 2006
Snapshots - and a random bitch-slap
-- Rain pouring down.
-- Finished my Stalin book last night. I'm gonna miss reading it. It's still percolating - but I'll probably post a bit more about it when I've processed it.
-- Starting Master and Margarita. The first chapter is terrifying. So goddamn good.
-- Up early. Dark rainy dawn. Coffee, incense burning, the Chieftains playing softly. Preparation for a business call I had at 10 am.
-- Going to the gym today. I would prefer to do my daily walk thingie, but it's too rainy. Ellipticals. iPod armband. I am all set.
-- Huge project happening right now - that was what my call was about. Really exciting. I'll write more about it when I know more. But my head is full of ideas and enthusiasm! Cool stuff - right up my alley.
-- I miss my family. I feel like it's been ages since I saw all of them.
-- Get well, Meredith. You're in my thoughts.
-- Got a random email from a gentleman who took offense at the fact that (now get this) I linked to this - without warning him that there was racy language involved. Apparently, the word "dick" in the first paragraph of Zach's post was too much for Boo-Hoo Pants, and he felt like I had tricked him into reading it - and so he felt ASSAULTED by FILTH - with no warning. Can you believe this guy? I see other bloggers warn their readers: "Offensive language coming ... be warned." "I'm linking to this - but just be warned: there are some curse words!" And that's fine if they want to do that - that's up to them, but I will never do that and I will not feel obligated to do that. You know why? Well, a couple reasons.
1. Because I'm not offended by cursing, or words like "dick". And I'm in this blogging game for me, not You (You as in a general large audience-type "you".) I mean, I love my audience, hell - I love that I even HAVE an audience - are you kidding me?? But I got this audience just from writing about what I like to write about. That's the best part of blogging, for me.
2. This blog is mine, and I link to what I find interesting or hilarious. If other people find the stuff I link to interesting or hilarious as well - then that's awesome!! But I'd link to that stuff ANYway. I don't have time to be warning people left and right that the word "dick" appears in something I link to. What the hell? The only time I would probably warn you guys about something - is if it was a movie review that contained spoilers. Because I personally can't stand when I am not warned and suddenly a blogger/reviewer/what-have-you gives something away. But cursing? Dick talk? Wow. There are barely enough hours in the day for me to write/pursue my interests/have a personal life/workout/eat/shower ... without having to take the time to add little warnings to my blog-posts. And so, Mr. Clean-Language-Complaining-Beeyotch-Man, here's a link. Just for you!! Enjoy!!
-- Mitchell has so turned me on to pickled tomatoes. I need to go get some more. There's a kosher section of the Pathmark and we just CHOWED on those damn things while he was here. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
March 25, 2006
Snapshots
-- Cold low grey sky. Lovin' it.
-- Is it weird that I am continuously in love with my apartment now? My love for it grows. I spent the day puttering.
-- My friend Allison is coming over tonight. I'm excited. She's bringing Capote. She's never been to my apartment, so I can't wait to ... yet again ... have a GUEST!!!
-- Read the first chapter of Master and Margarita - keeping with the Stalinist theme in Chez Sheila ... and found the first chapter to be one of the most terrifying things I have ever read. It reminds me of some of the scariest of Poe's stories. It's EERIE. You can tell by the first chapter that this is not just a good book, but an important book. A scary book. A book that NOBODY at that time would have wanted to read. Too threatening. Good for him. I will add it to my growing list of books I am juggling.
-- And my last snapshot is just a thought: You know, I have baby dreams like every other woman. I dream of finding a mate, I dream of getting married, and I also dream of having a baby. It is a dear dream of mine - my future child. But until a couple of days ago, I did not realize that that was only PART of my dream. I was missing a VERY IMPORTANT ELEMENT of that procreation dream. What element, you ask? Here it is, the missing piece of the dear dream: In the very last days of my pregnancy - it is my dream to go hang out at a Yahoo Corporate event, and be jostled by a bunch of camera-wielding web-geeks. I yearn, as my ballooning uterus presses on my bladder more and more with every passing minute, to NOT spend my days decorating the nursery, or talking on the phone obsessively with my sisters, my mom, my friends who have had kids ... I don't yearn to buy little outfits, I don't yearn to coo over little toys that the wee baby will one day play with, I don't yearn to lose myself in anticipation for the big event. I yearn to be shuffled out onto a stage far from my home like a prized turkey, and make stupid "Hi, how are you" conversation with people I care NOTHING about, people who take pictures of me with their cell phones and post them all over the Internet, people who gawk at me like I'm a freak-show. THAT is what I call a relaxing third trimester moment. No better time than the last couple weeks before I deliver to go to a huge corporate event on the arm of my grinning chimp-monkey NOT-HUSBAND Xenu-loving dark-lord jagoff.
March 12, 2006
Weekend snapshots
-- I got most of my hair chopped off. I love it. It looks great.
-- My new bookcase was delivered. I put it up in my main room - which now means that I have four bookcases in that one room. My kitchen has three bookcases. And my foyer has 2 bookcases. WHOO-HOO. But the book situation, even with all the bookshelves, was getting out of control. So I had a glorious time rearranging EVERYTHING. I moved all my fiction into the new bookcase - it just looks wonderful. All of my titles, all of my books - six whole shelves of them - lined up - ducks in a row and all that. I moved other stuff around, too. I put all of the first-person memoirs I have (except for the ones by actors - those I keep in a separate section) on their own shelf - I moved all of my science and religion books to another bookcase - so that I could then have more room for my theatre books. I am very happy with the new arrangement.
-- I picked up a painting I had dropped off at he framing store ... It's this old stained drawing of Sarah Bernhardt - my dad gave it to me years ago - it's black and white, she is sitting in profile - It's an old and fragile work. It's been sitting in a big thick cardboard envelope for a couple of years and I finally went and got it framed. I chose a big thick old-fashioned frame - with a kind of silvery sheen to it - which totally brings out the starkness of the black and white drawing ... It is GORGEOUS. I am really happy with it. Now I just have to decide where to put it. Running out of wall space.
-- I am now at the point where I am bummed if I can't exercise every day. Breakthrough!! Today it's rainy so ... argh. It means I have to go to the GYM as opposed to running outside, which is my preferred brand of exercise. But I have to go. I can't tell you how huge this is. I used to be that way - addicted to exercise - Like, I didn't feel like MYSELF if I didn't take my 8 mile run every day. I would get ... antsy and itchy. So the fact that I woke up early this morning, and heard the rain hitting my window right beside my head, and my first thought was: "Shit. No outdoor running today" is a huge breakthrough. Whoo-hoo!!!
-- Yesterday was great. A gorgeous sunny breezy day - like something straight out of heaven.
-- And during my haircut yesterday - while she was shampooing my hair - I felt a bolt of something very very familiar. I'm doing my one-woman show tomorrow night - I've been working on it, and having - shall we say - a very WEIRD week with it. I won't go into it. Let's just say that I've had a helluva time even working on this damn thing for various reasons. And so my main feeling about performing tomorrow has been one of nervous-ness. And not the good kind of nervousness. More of a: Oh shit. Fuck. I have to do this. Dammit. I'm not ready. Argh. This is the kind of nervous-ness that can make you choke!! Anyway, I was leaned back with my head in the sink, being shampooed - and out of nowhere - I felt a huge burst of adrenaline - like a cherry tomato exploding in my stomach - hahahaha - and it was the GOOD kind of nervousness. It was adrenaline, feeling pumped, and thinking: "I can't WAIT to do this. I can't WAIT to get up there." Funny: I know my own process well enough now to know that I have a week or so of the bad nervous-ness before the good nervous-ness takes over. It's always just a matter of time before the cherry tomato explodes. I just have to keep doing my work, and keep in the process.
-- I rehearsed on my roof for a couple of hours. A sweeping and windy view of the entire gleaming island of Manhattan ... the sounds of kids playing basketball a week away - the hovering traffic helicopters, the buildings across the Hudson catching the gleam - I love my roof because nobody else seems to utilize it. I'm up there all the time. So I rehearsed. If anyone had been watching me, they would have thought I was crazy. A chick with SHORT SHORT HAIR (heh heh) in sweatpants, on the roof, standing and gesturing and making little marks on a huge invisible pad of paper (part of the show). But it was good. I had about 10 run-thrus of the thing.
-- Took a run along yesterday at sunset time. The beauty was beyond belief. Everybody was out - families, kids, people walking, running .... The sunset blurring the sky - the tall buildings of Manhattan catching the dying gleams of the sun - and bursting out into gold - the purples, and blues - and the high white moon. This is my new routine, and I am BEYOND attached to it.
February 27, 2006
Snapshots
-- My sister Jean gave me a play by play account of the movie Angels in the Outfield. I literally never wanted it to end. While the account was going on here is what we did: we drove into town, went to Belmont's, went food shopping, went to the video store, went to the liquor store, and drove back to her house. Jean, occasionally, would break out, and say, "Oh my God, this is going on so long ..." "Please don't ever stop." At a couple of points during the re-cap, tears were shed. The second Jean started crying, I would start crying. So ... we were picking out mozzarella ... and CRYING over Angels in the Outfield. Jean told me every scene. "Then ... there was a press conference ... and the kids showed up ... and so did the evil broadcaster ... and then ..." There was a long unexplained pause. We continued to look at mozzarella. I glanced at Jean to see why she had stopped. She looked at me with something akin to panic. She confessed, "I don't think I'm going to be able to get through this next part." hahahahaha I was like, "Go! Cry! Talk and cry!! Do we need salad dressing? Okay, so what happened next."
-- Beth wanted to cook me dinner. She's very into Rachel Ray and wanted to try a recipe out on me. She emailed me, "Is there any food that you HATE, just so I know?" I fire back an email: "I only hate coconut and applesauce." Beth emails back: "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Okay so I won't pick you up at the train then holding a coconut cake with applesauce dressing." We get to Beth's house, cozy, warm, inviting. Conor, her son, ambushed me from around a corner the second I walked in and I screamed at the top of my lungs. EXCELLENT. I was totally busted. Beth and I drank wine, she cooked her Rachel Ray masterpiece (which was really good) ... Tom came home, and I sat in the living room talking with him for a whilel about his new job, which sounds great. Then we ate. The meal was YUMMY!!!! Lots of good talk, laughter, etc. After the meal, Tom walked by, carrying a plastic bag full of something and went down into the basement. Beth's curiosity was peaked. "Tom? Where ya goin'? Whatcha doin'?" No response. This will be important and funny later. So Beth and I keep talking - and then - weirdly - we hear Tom SAWING something in the basement. "What the hell is he doing??" Beth said. When Tom emerged from the basement, he went into the kitchen. Beth and I kept talking in the dining room, oblivious. Then, finally - Tom walks into the dining room, carrying a tray, and announcing, "Dessert!!" And he puts down in front of me half a coconut filled with applesauce. hahahahaha And here's the best part: he cut up little apple slices and stuck them in the applesauce - so they were lovely little garnishes. The SAWING we had heard had been Tom sawing apart the damn coconuts in the basement. The funny thing about all of this is that Beth KNEW what he was planning - and of course forgot about it in the moment - and tormented him with questions as he went into the basement: "What are you doing?? Where are you going???" We were all just HOWLING. That damn coconut exuded EVIL. The image of Tom, in the kitchen, carefully slicing up an apple and placing each slice in the applesauce is just too feckin' funny. When Tom came into the dining room, holding that dessert tray, he looked like an absolute maniac. hahahahahahaha
-- My parents and I drove up to Quincy on a cold grey day - to see the Adams house. Sadly, although it had said: "Open Mon - Saturday" - it also had said: "Closed November to April." So that was kind of a bust - but it was a great day anyway. We met up with my uncle Terry in Quincy (he lives there) - and snowflakes were starting to flutter down. We sat in a toasty warm Starbucks for a while, having coffee ... hearing about Terry's retirement. "So what have you done so far? Are you volunteering anywhere?" Terry replies, "So far I have read a biography of Henry Ford, and a 2 volume biography of Napoleon." Sounds like my kind of retirement!!! We then walked up the street to go see the Adams house, unaware it was closed. But before we got there, there was a big brick building with a plaque outside of it - This is the Quincy Historical Museum - founded by Charles Francis Adams, Jr. - it had been a boy's academy before it was a museum (the academy was set up with an endowment from John Adams) and it's also the spot where John Hancock's birthplace was. A gorgeous building - but sadly, it was closed. But ... but ... John Hancock!! I just looked around, soaking it all up. The grey withered grass, the white sky, the snowflakes ... and John Hancock's birthplace.
-- Then we walked up the street to see the Adams house. Even though it was closed to the public, it didn't matter - it was great just to see it. I've seen it before - because we come to uncle Terry's every year for Thanksgiving, and we drive by it every year ... but this was my first up-close-and-personal view of it. It was AWESOME. There's a gate around the outskirts of the land so you can't get in there - but we walked around, looking in thru the gate. It's a beautiful house - painted a kind of interesting grey - with black shutters. The walls buckle out on the sides. One of the front doors looks like it has cut one of the windows in half - so you have one pane on one side, and one shutter, and one pane and one shutter on the other side. All the shades are down. And then - the best part - out in the back is the stone library which ... well. I can't even really think about that library without getting goose bumps. Built completely of stone, it contains over 14,000 volumes and that includes the entire book collection of John Quincy Adams. MAN. Books were so important to this family that they had to build a whole other building for them. I want a stone library like that!!! Terry was regaling us with amusing tales of other members of the Adams family. "Yeah - he moved from this house because he could see the immigrants outside his window." I can't remember which Adams family member that was - maybe Charles. Anyway, it was great to wander around with Terry because he's a wealth of information.
-- Then we walked a couple blocks - past the prep. school for girls - also set up with an endowment from the Adams family - to see the birthplace of the wife of John Hancock (Dorothy Quincy). The Dorothy Quincy House. It's a short walk away. Funny - as we approached - we walked by an apartment complex, a big old high school - and through all of this brick and mortar, we would get occasional glimpses of a big yellow house. My dad said, "Well, we can obviously see it from here ..." It stood out. There is nothing else that that COULD be than the birthplace of some famous person. They just don't really make houses like that anymore. Gorgeous. Again, it was closed - but we walked around the outskirts - it's a HUGE chunk of land - with a brook on one side. Just the feeling of being in the presence of a historical moment ... being in the presence of the PAST ... is wonderful. So so rich. Especially because I KNOW about these people. Not everything, but ... context is so important when you're sight-seeing - and these people, though long dead, are REAL to me.
-- It was just a great little visit. Cold, snowy, lots of conversation as we walked from place to place ... wonderful.
-- Then we went over to Terry's to visit with the family. It was Diane's birthday. Both Matt and Rachel are home now - so I got to hang out with them and see them. Rachel used to live in New York and I really miss seeing her more often. Always good to see her. I want to have an O'Malley cousin gathering at my wee apartment at some point in April. It was great. Snow falling outside the window, coffee brewing - a nice visit - before we set off to come back home.
-- Jean and I took Hudson for a walk on the beach. Cold dark sand - that was all packed down and kind of mushy - Hudson just running free - the waves were freezing and green - just crashing on the shore ... It was beautiful. It's got to be the most beautiful beach in the world. One of my most favorite places on earth.
-- Then - after the Angels in the Outfield re-cap - we came back to Jean and Pat's - Jean made a great dinner - we watched a little bit of Grizzly Man which appears now to be on a constant loop on the Discovery Channel. They've seen it, I've seen it ... we still can't get enough of it. Jean, cooking in the kitchen, calling out to us, "Her poop! This came from her butt! It came from inside her!" Jean's assessment of his psychosis, "He just wanted to be famous."
-- Oh, and Jean and Pat just saw the Hamlet at Trinity and were raving about it. That seems to be the general feeling. I wish I could see it!!! I told them one of my favorite anecdotes about Christopher Walken coming and talking to our school (he's done a ton of Shakespeare) - Lipton asked him what his favorite line in Shakespeare is. Walken said, almost immediately, "I think my favorite line is the first line in Hamlet - because - it's simple, it says it all, you really don't get any better than that first line." Lipton asked, "And that line is ..." Walken replied, " 'Who's there?' " hahahahahaha It's true, though! And the funny thing is Walken was dead serious. Much talk about Shakespeare. Jean has a comic-book version of Hamlet - with thunder-thighed Renaissance-fair drawings - Hamlet wearing tights, with Prince Valiant hair - It's for kids, so the language is all boiled down - and the "to be or not to be" speech has now become: "Life is hard. It might be better to sleep, or to die." hahahahahaha
-- We watched Wedding Crashers which was a total riot. Vince Vaughn was cracking us UP. "Did you motorboat them? Did ya? Motorboat? Did ya motorboat them????" Oh - and apparently Jean and Pat's DVD player is on the fritz - but they discovered that they can play DVDs using their Play Station ... so to see Pat using the little Play Station control-thingie as a remote - was hysterical. Rachel McAdams is adorable. That chick could be another future Oscar winner. I called it when I first saw her in Mean Girls. "That girl is going to be very very successful." I stand by that first assessment!!!
-- Then there was the big moment. I went over to Mere's, bearing coffee and bagels, in order to see her poor black foot. I have been hearing about it, she has been sending almost daily pictures ... but nothing could really have prepared me for the reality. The only thing I could keep saying was: "Jeeeeeeesus, Meredith ... Jesus!" OUCH, man. Poor woman. She starts a new job this week, and she is on crutches, and her foot looks like a movie-monster. But it could have been sooo much worse. And everyone is hopeful that she will make a full recovery. But damn. That foot. Today is her appointment at the Wound Care Clinic - so I'll be thinking about you, Mere!!! But we didn't just talk about the foot. We drank coffee and talked about the Olympics, and karate, and her new job ... very good catch-up.
-- Oh ... and for the LIFE of us - for a good 15 minutes - we could not remember Howie Mandell's name. We ... tormented ourselves ... I kept saying, "I think his name is Huey ..." We basically kept listing his resume to each other ... trying to remember ... And then there were long stretches of silence when we basically could not move on to other things, because our brains were SO occupied with trying to remember his damn name. Mere finally shouted it out triumphantly. Phew!
February 20, 2006
Snapshots from yesterday
-- A cold and blindingly sunny day.
-- I head into Manhattan in the morning to meet up with my dear old friend Betsy (she is my oldest friend - we met in the 5th grade - we were Phys Wrecks together - we have never not been friends, never not been in touch - amazing) who had come into town with her family to see Wicked. Her daughter is a dancer, and her dance school took a field trip - very exciting: they all got to take a dance class with an actual cast member from Wicked - and then would go to see the matinee - with their "dance teacher" performing!! Oh my God. If I had been able to do that when I was 14? I would have never recovered emotionally. hahahaha So I was going to meet Betsy and her family in front of the dance studio. Go have lunch while her daughter danced up a storm. I walked along 47th Street, looking at every address - and then saw a happy waving figure in a BRIGHT RED coat. My dear friend Betsy. Yay!!! Her two beautiful sons were there, all bundled up and serious and cute, and her parents - who I have not seen in YEARS. It was so so wonderful to see them. These people have known me since I was 10. Betsy and I would have epic sleep-overs at her house, where we would act out scenes from Oliver, and tape-record skits in her room, and talk anxiously and excitedly about getting our periods some day. Her parents were there, wonderful, warm, funny, welcoming. Betsy's mother is a nurse, her father is an Episcopal minister - they lived beside the church where he worked - and their house was always warm and open. It was SO GOOD to see them, their beaming happy faces. Man!!! It's like I look at them and see my whole life!!!
-- I had a big plan to take them all to McHale's - a great burger joint in the theatre district - kind of notorious for being an actor hang-out. If you eat there, you always see someone famous. It's just the way it goes. But ... as I walked by there to meet Betsy ... I noticed that the place was boarded up. No!!!!! I feel ... TERRIBLE. I don't know if it closed for good - or if it's remodeling ... It has this old old signage - which I have always hoped they would never change ... They have big cushy booths inside, and great great burgers. Sad that it's closed!! So McHale's was out. We set out to find another place to eat.
-- We ended up going to Roxy Delicatessen - a famous tourist hang-out and New York joint right smack in the middle of Times Square. Across the street, the lines at TKTS were already out of control. We had a great lunch. I haven't spent that much extended time with Betsy's children, so it was really nice to just be able to talk with her two sons, and find out what they think about ... oh ... the most recent movie releases, for example. It was great - lots of conversation - Betsy's parents were raving to me about the Hamlet being done at Trinity Rep right now, and telling me that if I could see it, I really should. I asked questions about - how they did it, what spin they put on it ... Betsy's father was telling me about how the actor did the "to be or not to be" speech, and how amazing it was, and different ... Big conversation. At one point during all of this, Betsy's youngest son whispered something in his mother's ear. Betsy interrupted and said, "He's afraid that my parents are giving too much away." !!!!!!!! So cute!!! He was concerned that if I did go see it, they would be ruining the surprise of it for me! Adorable!!!
-- Betsy's oldest son was EXTREMELY impressed with our waiter. Our waiter would breeze by, deal with us, breeze away, and Betsy's son would say, "Man. He is so cool."
-- I was EXTREMELY impressed with the manners on display. Both her sons when they ordered: "May I please have ..." "Thank you very much." etc. Very very formal table manners. Adorable. Well done, Betsy and Jean. It's not easy to have good manners. It takes lots of practice, and both of these little boys have it all down pat. It was so cute.
-- It was just so good to see everyone. I haven't seen Betsy in a while either, so the whole thing was really really special.
-- Then - very exciting - we headed back to the dance studio on 46th Street to watch the end of the dance class. Up the 6 flights of stairs. Then crowding at the door of the studio where a beautiful spectacle greeted us. All of these kids - ranging from age 7 to age 15 - doing a dance routine they had just learned - with Robb Sapp, who plays Boq in Wicked - taking them through it, dancing it with them, calling out instructions. "And 5, 6, 7, 8 ... to the left ... and to the right ... " I just got a big lump in my throat watching all of this. It was so so beautiful. Watching these little kids - boys and girls - wearing leotards, or sweat pants, or just regular clothes - bounding around the floor with this BROADWAY DANCER leading them. Robb Sapp was beyond generous with them. Beautiful. He was supportive, encouraging, and inspirational. He had choreographed dances - to different songs from Wicked - and he taught them to the kids. We watched them all going over the dances, again and again. Robb then saw us all watching and told us we all could come in. So we moved into the studio - and then just watched. It was so beautiful. I can't really describe it. Betsy's daughter was dancing up a storm - she was wonderful. She was wearing green glittery eyeshadow. She is 14. After the dances, Robb had a talk-back with all of them - taking questions: how did he get started, what was it like to be in the show, what did he do during the day ... He was absolutely LOVELY. Just so giving and wonderful with these kids. Robb Sapp: you're great!!! How fun, too - all of the kids were going to see him ON BROADWAY in just 2 hours ... so they would get to see this amazing show but ALSO to see their new friend perform. Awesome.
-- After that, we all went to the big Hershey store on Broadway. Kid heaven. Willy Wonka incarnate. You walk in and you are overwhelmed by the smell of chocolate. Betsy's parents walked around with their grandsons, and Betsy and I stood off to the side and talked. The words "Diary Friday" did come up a couple of times, I must admit. I also got to hear about Betsy's job - and catch up on how all of that is going.
-- Then ... sadly!! ... we parted ways. They went off to find Rockefeller Center and then to go see the show ... and I headed downtown to go to Pier 1 and to meet up with Allison.
-- I had seen a lamp at Pier 1 a couple of weeks ago that I, let's face it, COVETED. And when I showed up at Pier 1 yesterday, I found that it was on sale! 10 bucks off. It was 20 dollars. It's similar to this one - only it has a bright red shade. I ADORE it. I have wanted a red lamp for my bedroom (shut up) for a while ... and I saw this one and fell in love with it. Allison met me at Pier 1, and she was so cute - she had hoped that she would beat me there so that she could guess, ahead of time, which lamp I would pick out. hahahahaha
-- I bought my lamp and then Allison and I headed back to her place, to drop off my lamp, and then go out and have lunch. Well, I had just eaten ... so Allison would have lunch and I would watch her eat. heh heh As we walked through the sunny busy streets of the West Village talking a mile a minute. It's been a while since we've seen each other. We talked about LA, my trip there ... she, of course, had been following my adventures online. Allison's from LA.
-- We get to her apartment - it's warm, cozy, sweet ... I love it. It has such a good vibe. She shares her studio apartment with two gentlemen. Oscar and Charlie. Ahem. A dog and a cat. Allison is Dr. Doolittle. I love these animals. Oscar has tremendously rancid gas which tempers my love for him ... slightly ... but still ... the way he cocks his little head when Allison says certain things to him is enough to just slay my heart forever.
-- We grabbed a Scrabble board and went over to 7th Avenue to Dublin 6 - her "local". When Allison and I went to Ireland, we stayed in an AMAZING garret room in a B&B in Ranelagh - the B&B was run by the mother of Dublin 6's owner. So there's this whole connection there. It's like home over there. We sat at a big table, and were about to start Scrabble - but as so happens with Allison and I, we got sidetracked by our fabulous conversation. We talked about cults (Emily - where were you?? Have you read Under the Banner of Heaven??? Read it!!) - and somehow - we followed wherever the conversation took us - and it ended up with Allison telling me about this wonderful movie she had seen recently called In Good Company - a film I had never heard of, despite my deep admiration for Dennis Quaid. In Good Company? Nevah hoid of it.
-- So of course we decided to scrap our Scrabble plans, go and rent In Good Company, and watch it at her apartment. I love Allison because we can freely trash our itinerary in this way. We were all a-flutter with excitement. Allison has that thing, too, that I have: if you love something, then you want to BE THERE when you introduce it to your friend. She will always have my eternal gratitude because she basically FORCED me to watch The Office - it was a similar situation: I had never even heard of it - she said, "Okay. That's it. We have to go watch it right now." And ... I was hooked, within one episode.
-- We got the movie and then set ourselves up to watch. Her DVD player is on the fritz right now so we had to watch it on her laptop. This was not bad ... we had a nice set-up ... only the VOLUME of the movie was a little too low for us, and we had the volume up as high as possible. Bummer. Our eventual solution was this: (and it was so ABSURD - but within an hour we were completely used to it, and were very blase about it) take little ear-phones like you would plug into your walkman - plug it into her laptop - and she would get ONE of the "ears" and I would get the other. This meant that we had to sit basically on top of each other, and could never really be parted. We had to become Siamese twins in order to watch In Good Company. I swear, if anyone had peeked in at us - they would have thought we were batshit insane.
-- In Good Company is WELL worth it. I can't believe this movie didn't get more of a buzz. It's Dennis Quaid, the wonderful and complex Topher Grace, and the luminous Scarlett Johannsen. I thought I knew where the movie would go (so used to cliches we all become!!) and then it went totally another way. It was lovely. A lovely film. And it's really ABOUT something. It packed rather a large punch ... and just from looking at the cover of the video, you would never guess that. VERY good movie.
-- A discussion ensues about Dennis Quaid. The wonderfulness of Quaid, how he's grown into middle-age so well, how great he is ... I bring up The Rookie - one of my favorite movies - only to find that Allison has never seen it. It is only 7 pm. So what the hell. We bundle up, put Oscar on his leash, and go back to the video store to get The Rookie. hahahahaha
-- On the way there we have a great talk about James Frey. SO MUCH TO DISCUSS.
-- It's nighttime now. Cold. Oscar must inspect EVERY car tire. He must inspect EVERY tree trunk. He is a small dog, but he must bark at EVERY dog he sees. Hilarious. He's horrifically gassy, but so cute you want to fry him up and eat him. All with love, of course.
-- Oh, funny moment at the video store - we cannot find The Rookie. We look in drama and comedy. No Rookie. Now Allison has declared the guys who work at this store "movie Nazis" - she called them that TO THEIR FACES - because they, oh - they refuse to watch movies made after 1921, or whatever. hahahaha So knowing this - I go up to the guy behind the desk and say, "Do you have The Rookie?" He looks it up. He sees two copies. We look for it. In drama. In comedy. No go. Hmmm. I say to him, "It's rated G - do you think it might be in kids?" He says (with no snotty judgment, I must add): "It might be in kids ..." Allison, meanwhile, basically shouts, "It's rated G????? No sex or drugs? GREAT!!" Giggling with laughter, I go to the damn Kids section, and what do you know - there is The Rookie. It's not even PG-13??? Not even that comforting 13 tacked on the end?? Nope. It's straight G. I take The Rookie to the counter to check it out. Allison calls the guy behind the counter a "movie Nazi" yet again. I say, "Oh ... you're a movie Nazi? So you must LOVE that we're renting THIS, huh???" (I say that as a movie Nazi myself. For example: I flat out think movies are BETTER if they were made before 1940 and I flat out think you're an IDIOT if you don't agree. That's me. That's my Nazism. However - I loves me some Dennis Quaid in The Rookie!!!) The guy behind the counter started laughing and said, "I've never seen The Rookie so I wouldn't know ..." I gushed at him, "It's a wonderful movie!" Suddenly - as all of this is going on - we become aware of his co-worker standing next to him. He is filing pages into a 3-ring binder. The pages are all laminated, with three holes punched into them ... and they are ALL pornographic images. I suppose it was some kind of directory of porn - to let their viewers know what XXX movies they had. Or something. But AS we are all bantering about rated G and movie Nazis and The Rookie - Allison and I become kind of distracted by the almost casual filing away of utter FILTH right in front of our eyes. The guy was literally putting this stuff into the binder as though they were pictures of window treatments or tea pots. Whatever. So bored. Gotta file this stuff away. Whatever. But we glanced at the porn pictures a little bit closer, glancing at each other - then the guy filing them away noticed us, and said - "Uhm ... I guess I shouldn't be doing this at the front desk, huh?" We just all BURST into laughter. It was so funny. He moved the binder away from us, and Allison was like, "No! Don't take it away! I'm about to go watch a G movie!!!"
-- We go back to Allison's place, laughing about the entire scene in the movie store. They obviously all know Allison and love her. "You called us movie Nazis," one staff member said to her. hahahaha We go to cross 7th Avenue and Oscar promptly has a nervous breakdown. He whimpers, and cringes, and pulls back on his leash ... he is terrified of 7th Avenue. We finally figure it out. Steam is billowing out of one of the manhole covers. This is a normal thing in Manhattan, however creepy ... it is like War of the Worlds, like something is alive beneath the earth ... but we are all used to it. Oscar is NOT used to it. He was terrified of the steam. So cute!!! Allison scooped him up in her arms and we crossed the street. We were not annihilated in a fiery mesh by the steam coming out of the street. Oscar's fears were unwarranted.
-- We order a pizza. We get into pajamas. We set ourselves up in our Siamese Twin formation, and we watch The Rookie. It is GLORIOUS. I have seen that movie countless times but I still cry at the same moments (I don't WEEP - but tears stream down my face - there is a difference): when he throws the ball past the speed-detecting device on the street, when all the kids come up to him and say, "It's your turn, coach...", when the manager of the minor league team tells him "cause you're goin', too ..." OH! SO MOVING ... and then Rachel Griffiths response when he tells her over the phone ... And then I am pretty much Ms. Waterworks for the last 10 minutes of the movie. Fuggedaboutit. We had a great time watching it.
-- Then we watched one of the special features - which was a little documentary about the real Jimmy Morris. Interesting - I did not know just how much of the real story they had used. I had known it was "true", but I didn't know how much was true. Looks like most of it was true - even down to the pouring rain at his "callback". I just loved every second of it.
-- Then ... it was time for me to go home. It had been a long and beautiful day. I took my red lamp (SO EXCITED - Allison wanted to make sure I had a light bulb for when I got home ... "Do you need a light bulb??") and headed off for the PATH.
-- I was home in half an hour. I set up my red lamp, and sat in my chair for a good 5 minutes, staring at its beautiful sensuous light ... the red glow on the wall behind it ... so happy in my purchase ... and SO HAPPY because of the beautiful day I had had.
-- Betsy, Betsy's kids, Betsy's parents ... red lamp ... Allison ... Dennis Quaid ... Pajamas .. Siamese twins ... A perfect perfect day!!
February 13, 2006
Snapshots
-- Shoveling snow with neighbors is a bonding community experience - especially in an urban environment. I've lived on this block for 3 years and have met only a handful of people. Really nice. Much fun was had by all. Everyone helping out. Chatting, laughing, shoveling, getting the job done.
-- Humorous moment: riding the stationary bike at the gym, next to a guy I see at the gym all the time, the two of us venting about Michelle Kwan (she was up on TV, of course). There we were, sweating it out in our local gym, regular old people trying to stay in shape, etc., and there we were being all self-righteous about an OLYMPIC-LEVEL athlete. hahahaha It was so fun. "She needs to just give it up," I stated with finality, checking my time on the display. "No shit," said the guy, swigging his water. "She needs to move out da way!!!" We both laughed, self-righteously, pedaling away, bitching about Kwan, halfway through our 30 minute bike ride ... I don't know why this image cracks me up - and it didn't seem funny at the time - we were totally in the moment - but afterwards the comedy of it struck me.
-- I'm reading At Swim-two-birds again, and laughing out loud again. I read somewhere that the whole One City One Book thing (I saw a link of it somewhere - UPDATE: Here's the link) ... you know: a whole city decides to read one book at the same time ... and Dublin chose At Swim-two-birds as their book. I think they're reading it from March to June - argh, whatever - It made me feel inspired to pick it up again. I haven't read it since college. Uhm - the book stands alone. I honestly can't think of an equivalent. It is so original. A mishmash of styles: part fairy-tale, part young-lads-bumming-around-town realism ... When it was first published in the late 1930s, James Joyce said, "This book is very funny" - which, to Irish writers, is like God himself giving you a stamp of approval. There's certain parts of it that reminds me of Catcher in the Rye - the disaffected lead character ... misunderstood by the adults in his life but ... well ... Finn McCool randomly shows up in At Swim-two-birds - like - what?? - There he is sitting around the fire with all the OTHER lead characters - and the story of the mad king Sweeny is told over 80 some-odd pages - It's a magical book, and completely difficult to describe. But the first sentence alone - I picked up the book again, read the first sentence, and just SNORTED with laughter:
Having placed in my mouth sufficient bread for three minutes' chewing, I withdrew my powers of sensual perception and retired into the privacy of my mind, my eyes and face assuming a vacant and preoccupied expression.
hahahahaha Loving it.
-- Yesterday - before I went out and shoveled - I was completely housebound. The snow piled up over my windowsill - the air outside was grey and chill - I had coffee - and then I had one of the funnest experiences I know of: I made a mix "tape" of music as gifts for all the women in my girl's group (We're a group of women - we meet once a month). Anyway, I had been wanting to make a "mix tape" for the group for a while - you know, music I love - but also with a theme running through it - a theme of inspiration, female friendship, happiness, etc. It takes TIME to make a good mix tape. So yesterday I pulled out all my CDs, and started going through them - making lists, notations, reshuffling the order, etc. Is there anything funner than creating a mix tape?? I just love it. I don't do it enough. I'm really pleased with what I came up with.
-- I then blasted the mix tape I just made and went on a cleaning jag. Good stuff. I am especially proud of the transition from track 9 to track 10. Randomly, it works very well for some reason.
-- Getting ready for my one-woman show. I'm kind of in denial about how much work I have to do.
January 6, 2006
Things that make me happy
-- My new workout clothes. I went nuts and bought a TON of new stuff yesterday at the MECCA that is Filene's Basement on 18th Street. I am so excited to go work out. I stuck with the Everlast brand - which is pretty classic - and I like their stuff a lot. And my new sports bras are so awesome that I literally want to kneel at their feet (do bras have feet) and say "THANK YOU". The contortionist poses I needed to twist my body into just to get my old damn sports bras on was a major stumbling block. I would get it over my head, and part of my shoulders - but my poor arms would be trapped out to the side, and I would need to struggle and shimmy to get it on fully ... A comfy sports bra is KEY. Support is key as well. I found two awesome ones at Sports Authority.
-- going out with my friend Allison makes me happy. We had a great time last night. We went to see Brokeback Mountain and then walked down to her local pub, talking and talking and talking. We sat at a table in the back, we talked about books we were reading, we talked about the show I'm writing, we talked about the 1918 influenza epidemic (I'm reading this right now) we talked about that book Under the Banner of Heaven (which she and I read in tandem - terrifying book - I wrote a huge post about it here) - we talked about the movie - we talked about all kinds of cool stuff. It was a great night. Also, added bonus: the bartender at the Ice Bar in Dublin (immortalized here) is now in America, bartending at Allison's local. What are the odds?? Anyway, Allison said, "You remember so-and-so, Sheila - the bartender at the Ice Bar?" So funny: I remembered his face immediately. That crazy night came back to my mind. It was so nice to hear his accent. It made me long to go back there. But we had a nice chat. "A bit different from the Ice Bar, eh?" Laughter. I loved seeing him here - made me feel like an international woman of mystery or something.
-- the weather right now. Grey, and misty, and cool. A bit wet. But not outright cold. It just lifts me up, invigorates me.
-- my blue fleece blanket
-- the fact that this book AT LONG LAST is shrieking its way towards me from some used book seller in East Chapeepee. I have waited a long long time for this. I have read Klemperer's journals, I have read his scattered notes on what he called the LTI - but now I can't wait to read the whole thing. Can barely contain my impatience. Now THIS is the kind of stuff that I eat up: analyzing the language of totalitarian societies. That's what Klemperer did. AS it was happening. Phenomenal. Can't wait to read it.
-- John Travolta in Grease makes me so happy that I don't even know how to discuss it. I watched that movie the other night, and discovered, yet again, how truly incredible he is. Iconic. Fearless. Fearless. And so sexy that a generation of girls (well, and boys, too - right Mitchell?) lost their collective minds watching him bumping and grinding on top of Greased Lightning. Wonderful. It's a performance that is full of so much joy, it's so OUT there - it reminds me of Johnny Depp at his best. He is so not afraid to jut GO there, if the role calls for it - whatever it may be. I'm not talking about emotion. I'm talking about camp, or about over-the-top commitment ... Like watch Travolta dancing during the dance contest at the high school. There isn't even one half of a one-half percent of his spirit, his energy - that is not engaged in DOING what those moments call for. He is 100% THERE. He never once tips his hat, or winks at the audience, like: "haha, look at me dancing." No. He is more courageous than that. He just GOES there. That performance just makes me sooooo happy. Of course it is also completely wrapped up in my childhood - so that has something to do with it. As a matter of fact, I think I need to write a huge post about Travolta in Grease. It could be a Part II to this.
-- my new Fiona Apple CD. Yes, it's as good as everyone says. (And by 'everyone' I mean my sister Siobhan.)
December 26, 2005
Snapshots
-- Christmas without Cashel? What? At least when Brendan called to wish us all Merry Christmas - he informed us that Cashel was, at that moment, sitting in his new blow-up R2 D2 chair and watching his new Star Wars DVD. All is right with the world. I MUST see Cashel sitting in that chair. I had overnighted my gifts - as we all had - and apparently Cashel had a great Christmas. He's all about astronauts and also Superman right now. Oh, and also Green Day. He got many gifts along these lines.
-- Mellow rainy weather. Rolling fog. Christmas morning was grey and foggy. Odd. Sodden leaves on the lawn. A huge bluejay terrorizing all the other birds.
-- Siobhan and I, driving over to Jean's, saw two deer standing on the side of the road. It was dark, so our headlights picked them up. They were perched RIGHT on the side of the winding country road - and they were FROZEN. Just standing there, as though posing for a picture. Magical.
-- Excellent presents. My mom painted us all pictures of Red Sox players - the resemblances are uncanny. You don't even need to see the NUMBERS on the backs of the uniforms to know who they are - because the poses are so specific, so recognizable. Manny's swing - Manny's uniform - how he pulls his pants legs down over his socks .... She just GOT David Ortiz's swing - how that one leg kind of turns in, delicately, almost like a dance move. I got one of Varitek, right after hitting the ball. It's SO Varitek. The calves (mmm, the calves) - and just the entire stance ... so Tek. I hung it on my kitchen wall.
-- Jean and Pat hosted a wonderful dinner party on Christmas eve. Jean cooked lamb - which was absolutely scrumptious. She was nervous about it - new recipe - but it was delicious. Their tree is adorable. Jean, Siobhan and I then plopped down in the living room and watched, according to the yearly tradition, the Sesame Street Christmas special - which Jean found on DVD. For years, we have been watching a beat-up video tape of it - that we had recorded off the television back in the 80s. We all know it by heart. It is absolutely magical. "And he pushes the button - and he steps up on the big step - and then he goes in!" Long pause. Grover looks right out at the camera. "And there you have it, folks!" We also always cry during the Bert and Ernie storyline - which is a variation on the gift of the Magi. I don't care that they are puppets. They are ALIVE and they have facial expressions. They kill me. We had many in-depth discussions in re: Cookie Monster's relentless psychosis, how our friend Nate can't STAND Bob, how cool Gordon was, how nice it is that the Count is accepted by the group even though he's borderline OCD, how much we always loved Olivia, the whole Snuffleupagus controversy, and many other pertinent issues. This may be a good time to unearth my Letter to Cookie Monster.
-- My dad made a fire in the fireplace. I love the smell of woodsmoke. So cozy.
-- Found an old hardcover bound copy of The Federalist Papers upstairs in one of the bedrooms. I'd never seen it before. Gorgeous. A deep red leather cover, with gold embossed lettering: THE FEDERALIST. I flipped through it. The pages have that kind of ... shiny quality - I don't know what it is - but you know how old-fashioned books, printed back in the 19th century have an almost slick paper - and if you run your hands over the pages, you can feel the imprint of the letters? That's what this is like. Also - inserted within the pages were two little scraps cut out of a newspaper: one was an advertisement for Irish lace. The other a Bible quote. Pretty damn awesome. A whole life suggested in those two little scraps from history.
-- Last night, Siobhan and I went over to Jean and Pat's and we watched 40 Year old Virgin - I gave it to Siobhan for Christmas. Siobhan was the only one who had seen it! We all just HOWLED with laughter. GREAT movie. I enjoyed every second of it. The outtakes are especially enjoyable. hahahahaha I need to see it again. I thought it was fantastic. The Age of Aquarius music video at the end was sheer liquid joy. We could not stop laughing. Paul Rudd dancing around as though he were in the original cast of Hair - with a long scarf tied around his head. I couldn't STAND it how funny it was.
-- I got a little terra cotta angel to add to my little terra cotta Nativity set. We each got one. They're so cute, so precious. I have it set up on my little bookcase right now.
-- I slept the sleep of the dead. Normally I wake up so early - I don't need an alarm clock - but I slept until 8 am on Christmas morning!! Unheard of.
-- I am TEARING THROUGH the final volume of LM Montgomery's journals - sent to me by a very kind reader who - sadly - I do not have his email!! So whoever you are: I cannot thank you enough. It's sad reading - she was quite a broken down woman by the end of her life - but I would read the woman's damn grocery list. So I'm having a great time with it. Closing the circle. This is the fifth and final volume. 1935 - 1942. She suffered from mental collapse during these years - which finally made her snap with the outbreak of WWII. She could not recover. And yet - during this time - she kept writing. She wrote every day. She published, I think, 4 or 5 books during those last years. An astonishing thing. The will to create. In the midst of her horrible life, and what appears to be a clinical depression - she kept going. It was the only thing that kept her going. Even more astonishing when you actually read her books - such wonderful life-affirming human books. Not saccharine or sentimental - but firmly positive. And yet - her real life was so awful. It never ceases to amaze me. It makes her novels even MORE incredible. I see them in a whole new light - now that I know what an unhappy woman she was, personally. Anyway - thank you, kind sir out there!
-- The only thing missing was Brendan and Cashel - but they were together and having a lovely Christmas with Melody. So that makes me happy to think of. We'll see Bren and Cash this week when they come down to New York. It will be wonderful. I need a little Cashel face-time.
December 19, 2005
Snapshots
-- Walking on 9th Avenue last night, and I passed one of those sidewalk Christmas-tree vendors. All the trees tied up and leaning against a fence - a guy with huge gloves handling the trees - it was outside a busy CVS - with flourescent lights and automatic doors - but as I walked by, the scent of pine was just intoxicating. Amazing - how evocative the sense of smell is. Of all the senses, it is truly transportive. I was on a bustling Manhattan street, but one whiff of that pine and I was walking through through the woods by Potter's Pond.
-- Also because it was in Chelsea, all of the people buying Christmas trees, were gay couples. For some reason, it touched me. One couple in particular, with their wool scarves, their little glasses ... walking up and down the row of trees, looking for which one would be right. Excited, laughing.
-- I am now reading the collected letters of Tennessee Williams, volume II (thanks, as ever, peteb!!). After my Tennessee Williams orgy over the last couple of months with the daily excerpts - reading this has been quite appropriate. I'm not ready to leave Williams' universe yet. Volume I is wonderful - it takes you up to the moment when Glass Menagerie opens in 1947. He is on the cusp of success. Volume II now takes you into the world of success itself. Now we're getting into Streetcar - the development of it, his relationship with Elia Kazan, finding Marlon Brando ... It's FASCINATING. He was a wonderful letter-writer. Gore Vidal just made a cameo. Very funny stuff - Williams met Gore Vidal in Rome. Vidal was 23 years old and had just come out with his first book. Williams describes in a letter to someone else how Vidal was literally obsessed by Truman Capote. All he could talk about was Truman Capote - whose first book had ALSO just come out - and how he didn't like his writing - and how HE was better than Capote, etc. etc. Williams is turned off by that competitive spirit amongst writers - he didn't like it - but the glimpse you get of Vidal is very funny. Williams thought Vidal was gorgeous, a young Greek god, (and he really was, back then) - but he did get tired of listening to Vidal bitch about Capote's undeserved success.
-- I watched an old episode of Sex and the City last night - one I had never seen. Matthew McConaghey shows up in it - as himself. He was absolutely HYSTERICAL. Has anyone seen that episode? I was laughing out loud at his portrayal of himself as an overly eager actor, who gets right up into people's faces, and talks too much, and is way ... "too much" in general. He was hysterical.
-- I bought the latest CD by the Trans Siberian Orchestra - haven't listened to it yet - but I'm really excited. I love their first one - which I have.
-- I saw Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. I was tremulous. I was actually NERVOUS. Jen and I both said we were nervous about it, because we loved the books so much. What if they messed it up?? I'll do a longer post about it if I feel like it - but suffice it to say I do not think they "messed it up". All the Christian websites being all triumphalist (and really really literal) about this movie is kind of annoying - although I understand it - and I know that to THEM they wanted to make sure that the Christian message was intact. Fine. That's not my concern. I didn't read the book as a Christian allegory when I was 10 - although now, of course, I can see that it is an "allegory". But what 10 year old wants to read an allegory? Bah. It's too literal. CS Lewis himself said he wanted it to just be a rollicking good story - although he wasn't as ANTI-allegory as his good friend Tolkien. I read Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe as an unbeLIEVABLE story which caught me up in its spirit and did not let me go. Also: if the special effects took over, if there was too much CGI, if they weren't done in just the right way... you would completely lose one of the main elements of the book - which was its pre-modern pre-Judeo-Christian world of Narnia. It's a world where fauns run around, where nature (in the form of perpetual winter) has taken over, where magic is used - but in a very raw rough pagan way. If you have glittery special effects - and they don't work - then ... you suddenly know you're watching a modern creation. I didn't have a problem with any of the special effects - and the beavers (my two favorite characters as a kid) looked as real as if they were ... you know ... real. I forgot I was watching something digitally created. The battle at the end is a bit ... uhm ... VIOLENT ... I had to cover my eyes a couple times - it was like we were suddenly seeing Henry V or something - but my main concern was with story and character. And they did not sacrifice character for style, or effects. Lucy, the little actress, was amazing. I wouldnt' call her an 'actress' at all. She seemed to just be alive in those circumstances. And Tilda Swinton ... She is not at ALL what I pictured for the part. In the book she has jet-black hair. Tilda's version of the character is more like a giant icicle. Her hair is blonde - and kind of piled on her head in a huge way - as though it has frozen into that shape. And her eyes ... I have no idea what she "did' as an actress, but those were not human eyes. She was as terrifying and unpredictable and AWFUL as the "queen" in the book. Anyhoo - I'll post more on it later, but in general, I was very glad with what they did. They lifted entire sections word for word from the book. It's a little goofy to SEE animals talk - Aslan had a couple of very goofy moments. When you read the book, you accept that animals talk, and you can imagine it - but to SEE it somehow makes it a bit TOO literal, and there was some silliness. Also, the centaur guy with the black hair was way too cheese-cake Hollywood for my taste. And Peter - as a grown-up King - in the second to last scene - has the GOOFIEST Prince Valiant hair I've ever seen. He's wearing tights, for God's sake. The audience snickered when they saw him - which is not quite the effect I think they were going for. It had some of that goofy Renaissance-Fair silliness in the production design. Oh, and the opening - with the children being shuttled off into the country as the bombs fall on London - was spectacular. Somehow it was done in a way that was NOT realistic - although you'll have to see it to see what I mean. It was obviously a real event, it happened in real life - but ... there's something heightened about the planes in the sky, the clouds behind the planes, the volley of bombs falling in slow motion ... It sets it up that this is going to be some kind of heightened realistic style. There's a strange violent poetry in it.
-- I have to re-read the book. My favorite section, as I said, is when they stay with the beavers in their cozy dam ... It just seemed soooo cozy in there, with the white frozen world outside ... and they had food, and a roaring fire, and thick butter (I remember the part about the butter), and they could sleep, and relax ... and the beavers were just charming and amusing. I loved them. I loved them in the movie, too. Therefore - I am pleased. My needs are simple in that respect.
-- I also saw Brokeback Mountain - what can I say - I have been in hibernation since September, what with the show. Now I can catch up. I was resistant to seeing it - I told Emily I wouldn't see it - because, like Narnia, I had read the short story and it cut me to the BONE. That story really means something to me, and I just couldn't bear to see it if they fucked it up. Also - Hollywood RUINED Annie Proulx's other story The Shipping News which is one of my favorite books - and I found their version of it unforgivable. Unforgivable. So did she, apparently. She didn't want to let them adapt Brokeback Mountain because of her experience with what they did to The Shipping News. I remember when Brokeback Mountain came out. I read it in The New Yorker. The writing is so good that you want to put down your pen forever. I love her. But the reviews I read seemed to suggest that Ang Lee has captured what was in that story. It's not a 'gay cowboy' movie. It's a love story. It's a painful beautiful love story that happens to occur between two men. Oh, man. The short story, people ... It's up there on the list of the greatest short stories I've ever read. Argh. Annie Proulx is so damn good. The movie is heartbreaking. I am still processing it. I left the theatre in tears. And again - they got all the elements of the story that I felt were the most resonant, the most powerful. (Of course, they never asked me for my opinion - but oh well - everyone's an expert, ain't they?? It's like the Harry Potter books, too - we all have read them, we all have opinions on what should be included, what could be left out ... how they executed these already beloved stories.) Brokeback Mountain was like that for me. Are they really going to capture Ennis' taciturnity? Will they let him be as gruff and as wordless as he really is in the story? Will they cut out his line, "You know I ain't queer"? Will they put a modern sensibility onto the film - to please the PC crowd? Or will they just let it be in 1963 - with that context? Will they embellish? Please no embellishments!! They did not embellish. And let me just say this: Heath Ledger's performance, as Ennis, is nothing less than remarkable. It's a breakout performance. It's THE breakout performance, as far as I'm concerned. He feckin' broke my heart. Without even saying 2 or 3 words. I always thought Ledger was pretty good, whatever, never gave him much thought. But now? He will be a MAJOR player after this film. It's his movie. It's an old-style really masculine performance - reminiscent of old cowboy movies, with the gruff silent guy squinting at the horizon. He's like Steve McQueen or something. He has that same kind of quiet strength about him - but he is able to suggest entire worlds of emotion going on - stuff he would never ever be able to articulate (or even want to articulate) - stuff he is barely aware of himself. Ennis is a man who does not analyze, does not angst (at least not consciously), does not speak, does not open up to people. Everything must be suggested. Ledger is phenomenal. The movie was devastating. Just as devastating as the short story - and that's really saying something.
-- I wish it would snow again.
-- The other night, out in a pub, Allison and her friend George explained sodoku to me, showing me how it all worked by the light of a tiny candle in a glass jar. They went over the concepts with me, finishing each other's sentences, and answering my questions in unison, and they both had the glazed eyes of addicts, . It was hilarious. But I think I understand it now. I'm afraid to even start getting into sodoku because it seems like a deep deep pool of addiction that I might never come out of.
September 25, 2005
Saturday snapshots
-- Woke up to feel a chill breeze blowing through my window onto my face. First time this season. A true harbinger of fall. I just bide time through the summer. I can't stand the summer. Autumn is my season. That dawn breeze yesterday was the first breath of autumn.
-- Did research online for this play I'm working on. It was great. Got a lot done, and made a list of next steps: articles to track down, books to track down ... It's a subject I know nothing about, and also regard with some skepticism - which, of course, I can't have at all when playing the character. Must believe. It's a prerequisite. In order to believe, I have to learn more about it. So it's fun. I love to learn new stuff. It's one of the best parts about being an actor. Learning how other people live, what their jobs are, how things work in other communities that you never encounter ... so fun.
-- Traveled into Manhattan. God, it was a gorgeous shining day. The city looked like Oz, across the water.
-- Bought these. I'm so excited!! A cute young kid, maybe 18 or 19, helped me. He was wonderful - answered all my questions, and I had about 250 of them. His name was Elvis. Elvis: thank you. The sneakers feel amazing on my feet. So let's hit the road, Sheil-babe!!
-- Went to the Barnes & Noble in Union Square to look for a book that I came upon in my research that morning. It was a madhouse. The New Yorker Festival is going on right now - and they were hosting a Stephen King reading (argh!! The birthday boy!) on the top floor of that particular store. It hadn't begun yet, but you could feel the anticipation shivering throughout the entire joint. "He" hadn't shown up yet, but the line on the top floor snaked around through the shelves, people standing there holding piles of his books in their arms, books for him to sign ... Just the sight of that gave me a lump in my throat. Especially after writing about him earlier this week. People love him. You could see the excitement and anticipation on their faces. It just GOT to me to see that.
-- I had to go to the New Age section to find the book I was looking for. And there it was - 50% off, and only one copy left. Bingo. Mission accomplished.
-- Returned to Hoboken, hoping to find a bar that had NESN that wasn't packed that would be showing the Sox game at 4:30. First bar I tried: No NESN. Second bar I tried: No NESN. I know that Liberty has NESN (that's where I watched them win the Series - hell, I spent 2 weeks of my damn life there last year and the year before) ... but when I arrived it was standing room only. All Red Sox fans - hahaha - awesome - I knew most of them from watching games throughout the years there - but I didn't want to stand for possibly three hours. I came home and descended into utter geek-land:
-- I listened to the game on the radio, while tracking the action pitch by pitch online. Aweeeeeeesome!! I spoke out loud to my computer screen. I cheered on the batters in crucial moments: "Come on, Papi, come on, Papi ..." But ... I am shouting at my laptop.
-- Well, we won. Sheesh. Was a close one.
September 13, 2005
snapshots
-- I got a new phone. Did you know that they make phones with CAMERAS IN THEM NOW???? hahaha I know I'm behind. I still listen to cassette tapes, for God's sake. But I love my phone so much that I've been making out with it for 2 days non-stop. I take it out and just stare at it. I took a picture of my feet. Also of the corner of my desk. I take many pictures. I call no one. It's awesome.
-- Rehearsals start this week.
-- Congratulations to my friend Guy Adkins for being nominated for a Jeff Award (in the Best Actor in a Principal Role in a Musical category) (They were just announced today). He was nominated for Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum - which was playing while I was out there, but bummer - I didn't get to see it. I love it when the Jeff awards come out ... I always know SOMEbody.
-- Comment that comes out of reading the shows being done: People still do productions of Closer than Ever?? It seems like such a late 80s, early 90s kind of show. It's about the concerns of yuppies. The musical version of 30something. Funny, wistful, self-absorbed - I LOVE some of the music for that musical - damn. Good good stuff ... but I thought that it had dated itself almost immediately upon its first production.
-- I'm getting a massage next week. The last time I got a massage, the masseur (a guy I had never met before) asked me out WHILE he was giving me a massage. I'm not lying. This is so Sex and the City, I know, but it really happened. It seems vaguely inappropriate, doesn't it?? However, the whole thing struck me as pretty damn funny at the time. I walked out of there thinking ... Did that just happen? Did my masseur just ask me out? While I was lying on the table in a dim room, draped only in a sheet? He asked me to go on a canoe trip. In the middle of my massage. I don't know. Maybe stuff like that happens to other women all the time, and I'm over-reacting. It's not like he was creepy, or made me feel weird ... It just was totally SURREAL. You're supposed to zone out during a massage. You're supposed to go into a deep relaxation. And so you fall into the moment. You breathe deeply. Your body relaxes. You slip off into a coma. This is what I was doing. I breathed. I zoned out. I lost myself in the relaxation. And then ... softly ... came the masseur's voice: "I'd really like to take you out. Want to go canoeing next weekend?" Er ... pardon?
-- I watched 8 Mile again last night. Great flick. The bonus features were classic. Curtis Hanson - skinny white man - MC-ing a rap battle with all the black Detroit extras??? It was awesome!! I need to write more about it. I'll add it to my list of Things I Want to Write About.
-- Nearly done with Order of the Phoenix. Argh!!! Things are drawing to a close. Trying to slow things down but I can't. I am plowing through the book. Fred and George flying out of Hogwarts in a blaze of glory was just sheer genius. I love those two. I mention them often, I know. I just think they're great characters.
-- Heaven to Betsy, by Maud Hart Lovelace arrived today. My heart swelled up when I saw those illustrations. It's the first of the onslaught of my childhood books. So exciting!
August 27, 2005
Party snapshots
-- Met up with Rachel in the Grand Central terminal, ready to take our train north into the wilds of Connecticut. Rachel! My old dear friend from Chicago, who now lives here. So cool! There was probably not more than 2 seconds of silence between us during the entire 2 hour train ride. Yap yap yap yap. Fun.
-- We were going to the house of Jackie and Stuart, who were having a party today. (There are so many good stories from the friendship of Jackie and Sheila. We have had some truly bizarre adventures. Here's one of my favorites. And I would say that this one is pretty funny too. But that's just the tip of the iceberg.) People from all different sections of my life (and theirs, of course) would be in attendance. Mitchell is in town. He would be there. David and Maria and their kids (and their new dog). Jim!!! An old friend from college, who then moved to Chicago while I was there (oh, the memories - after going to his first Pat show, which Mitchell and I dragged him to, even though he was seriously jet-lagged, Jim said, dazed: "I felt like Pat McCurdy was ... some sort of god...") and is now living in Providence. Another old friend from college, David, who I ended up being in a show with here in New York, randomly. Haven't seen him since that show closed in 2002. Rachel. Oh, and Luisa - one of my good friends from college - ahem. Buy her jewelry. She's incredible. Oh yeah - and my first serious boyfriend was going to be there, too - with one of his sons. Argh! This is your life, Sheila!!!
-- Jackie and Stuart's house is idyllic. It feels like such a home. Beautiful. Warmly painted walls, lots of books - it's an old house, so there's a lot of cool old details. And, here's the kicker: 4 piano-esque instruments. Hysterical. A small standing piano that Jackie got at a yard sale in college (I remember the day she brought it home). A much larger piano painted orange that Jackie got from a friend when that friend moved. A small electric keyboard. Then - an old-fashioned huge organ, with these little knobs you push in for different effects - Jackie sang us an impromptu number on that one. The funny thing about Jackie playing the piano is that no matter what number she chooses to sing, it always ends up sounding like a hymn. Something about her chord choices. She makes "Love Potion #9" sound like "Onward Christian Soldiers".
-- Jackie wore an apron with two blazing yellow pineapples on it.
-- The backyard was heaven on earth. There was a swing hanging from a high high tree limb. The swing will take a starring role later in the party. Over in the corner, surrounded by trees, was an idyllic little hammock. There was a small brick patio, but for the most part, it was just a grassy green space made for kids.
-- When Mitchell walked into the kitchen when he first arrived, he had on a small straw cowboy hat. He looked great. Sadly, his hat choice made me think of "I have lived -" step-step-step " - many lives", one of Mitchell's more ridiculous moments.
-- David and Maria's two girls are so gorgeous, so sweet. They were so solicitous and careful with their new dog, very attentive. Adorable. They remind me so much of the two little girls in In America.
-- Jackie and Stuart's two sons are amazing - such little individuals. So different from one another, and both so interesting.
-- Oh, and my first serious boyfriend came -- argh! I was nervous to see him for about 2 seconds, and then when I laid eyes on him I was fine. He's a good friend. And a cherished person from my past. His son is this sweet-faced blue-eyed boy, who slayed my heart a little bit (in a good way).
-- We all sat around on the patio, lots of talk, lots of laughter. Reconnecting with old friends. I also love watching people from totally different parts of my life chatting and getting along. Seeing old-boyfriend talking in an in-depth way with Rachel - whom he had never met. Seeing David talking and laughing with Stuart. One of our other Chicago friends who was there regaled us all with tales of touring with Vagina Monologues. Good good stories, y'all. Some excellent celebrity gossip! But my lips are sealed!
-- The food was delicious. Stuart made margaritas.
-- I miss Luisa. I miss seeing her more. My favorite Luisa story is of her wandering through the apartment she shared with Mitchell in college, devastated about something, can't remember what, and Luisa - a brilliant learned woman - saying to herself over and over, "This is my bear to cross. This is my bear to cross." Completely not realizing she had reversed it. She was deadly serious. Deadly. "Bear to cross" has now become a catch-phrase with my group of friends. All you need to do is say, "Bear to cross?" and people know exactly what you mean.
-- Great talk with Mitchell about Bette Davis. And how great she is. It's almost like her "campiness" has helped her work to survive the years. She may be overe the top ... but there's still something deeply universal in her acting, that cannot be attached to a specific "style" of acting.
-- And then came: fun on the swing!!! David MADE each and every one of us have a turn on the swing. He would BELLOW our names. Literally. BELLOW. "SHEILA O'MALLEY. COME TO THE SWING." And here was the ritual. It was the same, each and every time. You got on the swing. David would then push you up, up, up - so that you were nearly horizontal - but he would still be holding onto you, so that you would hover there, over the patio, supported by his hands on your butt. He would then BELLOW to the crowd (David is a born showman): "IS ANYONE BEHIND ME???" All the little kids, of course, loved the ritualistic aspect of this - and all would shout: "NO!" He would then let you go, and give you a nice hard shove just to send you careening off into the yard with as much force as possible. Then came an amazing time of just swinging, up high, shoes flying off, the crowd cheering ... David would yell at one point: "DO YOU WANT THE SPIN MANEUVER?" (He yelled this every time.) The person swinging would shout, as they hurtled past, either "Yes" or "No". Often it didn't matter what you answered. David would put you into "the spin maneuver" regardless. As you would shriek by, David would grab your feet and whip them to the left or the right, so then you would be forced into a "spin maneuver". The kids loved that one. They always requested "the spin maneuver". Then ... as the swing died down naturally ... David would bellow: "LET GO WHEN I TELL YOU TO!" (It's so hysterical that everyone just naturally obeyed his bellowing demands. Hahahaha.) So then - David would yell, "LET GO" at a certain point - just as you were swinging towards him - and you would let go, and he would be right there to catch you. Now, please remember: there were ... what ... 12 adults there? Of varying weights and sizes. And also 7 children altogether. David did this for ALL of us. Men, women, children. He was drenched in sweat afterwards. hahahaha Flopped in a chair and drank his beer. But damn: flying through the air on that swing was a glorious feeling. Beautiful. Thanks, David, for being a perpetual He-Man Action Figure.
-- Jim told a VERY funny story. Jim was in a show in Chicago. They did a show for a bunch of kids bussed in from the south side of Chicago. We've all done shows like that. Sometimes they can be such a blast that you are high for days ... other times it is, to put it mildly, not so fun. After the show, the cast came on the stage for a question and answer period. Jim played the Prince. Just so you have some context: Jim is ... not a large man. He is small, and boyish-looking. He is also older than I am and looks like he is about 19 years old. So they open up the floor for questions. A girl in the audience raised her hand and said (and I quote - sorry if it's offensive, but it's how the girl spoke): "Yeah. I gots a question for the Prince." Jim said to her, "Yes?" And the girl said: "Is you a midget?" !!!!! No one knew what to say. There was dead silence for a moment. And then Jim said: "Is I a what?"
-- Jackie's son's obsession with recycling has not abated with the years. You sip your beer and suddenly you feel this small hovering presence beside you. You turn. He says, "Are you done with your beer yet?" He wants to put the bottle in the appropriate bucket. He has the whole recycling thing down. He even knows the laws about recycling in other countries, and can list them to you.
-- Oh, here's another funny thing. Jackie's son is not only obsessed with recycling, but he is also obsessed with the United States Presidents and can tell you pretty much anything you want to know about any of them. Even the nobodies. He knows EVERYTHING. He has a poster of them on his wall, with a couple of relevant facts beneath each face. When Rachel and I first arrived, Jackie gave us a tour of the house. Jackie and I went into her bedroom, and Rachel stayed behind in Jackie's son's room with him. Our paths diverged for no less than 30 seconds. As Jackie and I walked by her son's bedroom, we heard Rachel say, in a tone of interest, "So William Henry Harrison wasn't really around for a long time then?" We just howled. It took them 2 seconds to get deeply into presidential biographies.
August 16, 2005
Snapshots
-- Alex and I hunched over the computer, listening to lecture tapes of L. Ron Hubbard (LOONY TUNES!!!), agog, gasping at one another at his craziness, rewinding to listen to particularly insane parts. Add this into the mix: Alex's eye got all messed up, from stage makeup and bright lights, so she needs to wear an eyepatch periodically. A big black eye patch. So there we are, hunched over the computer, gasping at how insane Hubbard was ... but ... uhm ... Alex looked pretty damn crazy herself. But I got used to it so quickly, and would promptly forget that I was talking to an eyepatched pirate diva. We would be 15 minutes into some conversation before it would occur to me: "Uhm ... Pirate? Or ..."
-- I bought amazing new clogs. I mean, honestly. They are the cutest mod-est things ever. I love them. They are FURRY and they have a cowhide pattern to them. Love love love them.
-- I have gone running every day. Even on the stickiest days when the air was like soup. It feels good.
-- Dinner at Kate and Tim's. Guy and Sean joined us later. It was so great! The reunion of the wedding party! We sat on the back porch, a nice mild night, we drank wine, talked, laughed, told stories. Sean is now in a production of Henry V and regaled us with many tales of backstage hilarity. It was so good to be with them all again. A nicer (and funnier) group of people you won't ever meet. Much much laughter. There was a moment when a dog turned into a starfish, and that is all I'm saying. I also cannot get the image of Guy singing with dry mouth out of my mind. His face!!
-- Met up for breakfast with Kate at one of our favorite old breakfast joints. It has expanded exponentially, amazing, but they still have the same old fruit and granola smorgasborg thing that I loved once upon a time. A wonderful morning with my dear dear friend. I never get enough of her. You know? She's the best.
-- Something happened on the porch between Alex and I that defies description. We laughed so hard that the next day it felt as though I had done a 45 minute ab workout. I am not kidding. It would not stop, and ... no matter how hard we tried to move on ... we could. not. stop. Alex had to walk off down the stairs a bit ... I could hear her gasping and wheezing from behind me ... Suffice it to say, it was about Xenu. I wish I could describe the moment. But ... I just can't.
-- I have been forced to do imitations of the barking hopping lady for pretty much everybody. "Oh my God, please demonstrate what happened. WHAT???"
-- A ton of funny memories coming up - they always do when I come back here. I'll write some of them down later.
July 28, 2005
Vacation snapshots
More vacation stress.
-- Manicures and pedicures this morning with my sisters and Melody. The manicurist gave Siobhan swoopy ghetto-designs on her nails without asking Siobhan. hahahaha "Uhm ... I appear to have gang symbols on my nails now ..."
-- Swimming last night with Cashel and Siobhan. Cashel had on his Goggles, he babbled at us about X-2 in the most endearing way during the walk to the beach, ranting and raving: "He is the BEST character ... he is SO COOL." Siobhan and I continued to egg him on with questions so that he would just keep talking. Then we swam in the strong undertow, grey waves rolling in, the beach empty and grey ... Cashel "body surfing". Ahem. It was a 7 year old version of body surfing and something that cute is difficult to believe.
-- More trivial pursuit last night. Cashel was on my team. We whispered and consulted together ... AND we ended up winning. Yee-haw!
-- I actually have stopped reading Time and Again - not because I don't like it - but because Stewart O'Nan and Stephen King's book Faithful was lying around and I needed to start devouring it. I love how Stephen King keeps talking about how Lou Piniella, throughout the season, was eating his own organs from inside, through stress and suppressed rage. "I think Lou is done with his kidneys now and moving onto his liver ..."
-- We all responded to Matt Clement getting clocked as though he's a member of our family. Awful. "Is he okay?" "Any word yet?" Last night, Siobhan and I saw a press conference he gave ... and he looks okay. We'll see. Awful, though ... just awful ... the front page of the Globe sports section a photo of him writhing in pain with Millar, Mueller, and Varitek approaching ... Millar's hand reaching out gently to touch his shoulder. Just AWFUL.
-- Hudson (Jean's black lab) made a friend yesterday. A big gregarious yellow lab named Seamus. Seamus peed on Hudson's face, which was a deeply bonding moment for both of them, apparently.
-- 2 nights ago: sat outside at the picnic table in the backyard - me, Bren, Jean, and Melody ... drinking vodka tonics, as the wind swept through the trees - 11 pm ... Hudson lying in the dirt nearby ... listening to the Sox game on the radio through the kitchen window. The night of Matt Clement. Shivers ....
-- My toenails are now a shimmery green. The shade is called Cat's Eye, which I am sure you are thrilled to know.
-- Today? Mini golfing at a place called Pirate's Cove.
-- Tonight? Cape Cod Baseball, man!!!
-- Lou Piniella appears to be devouring his own spleen now ... and it's only July ....
July 26, 2005
Vacation snapshots
It's really stressful to just lie around on the beach, and read books, and go for runs, and play board games. I mean, it's so hard to keep up with such a grueling schedule.
Snapshots:
-- Cashel's big-boy teeth are now growing in. That always brings about such a change in a child's small face. AHHHHHH! He looks so cute!! I haven't seen him since Christmas. Have to hold myself back from squeezing him to death.
-- Trivial Pursuit game our first night here. It went on for 5 hours. By the end, our personalities had pretty much disintegrated. Brendan finally won. And we could finally all go to BED. Some things happened that were so funny, in such an O'Malley way, that we laughed so hard tears literally streamed down our faces. Raucous.
-- The water is warm, and marvelous. Ahhh. Salt water. Beach chairs. Sunblock - 45. I'm obsessed with sunblock, and smear it all over me from morning til night. If I get one more freckle, I will have a nervous breakdown.
-- I packed enough clothes for a 2 week jaunt through Europe - and yet somehow managed to forget my bikini bottoms. hahahaha I'm an idiot. I wear gym shorts instead - no biggie - but I had to laugh when I saw the minimal packing of my siblings, compared to my ridiculously overblown packing. It's even more ridiculous because, of course, I basically wear the same things every day.
-- We're all about ice coffees. Also - every morning one of us has to go out and get multiple copies of the New York Times - since we have so many crossword-puzzle hounds in this family.
-- We're gonna go see a Cape Cod League Baseball game on Thursday. Can't WAIT.
-- Karaoke tonight in Hyannisport. Look out, townsfolk. The O'Malley Sisters will be shrieking their way into your lives.
-- Cashel told me the entire plot of the Sponge Bob Square Pants movie, complete with re-enactments, sound effects, and also random bursts of laughter which rendered him absolutely helpless.
-- We have a hula hoop in the front yard. At any given moment, some O'Malley is out there, wildly gyrating like some 1950s training film.
-- My dad is reading the new John Irving, as well as continuing his Proust project. My mom is reading Lovely Bones. Bren is reading Ulysses for the first time. Jean is reading The Tipping Point. Siobhan is reading Summerland. Cashel is dying to read Summerland, and casts envious glances at Siobhan as she flips through the pages. Melody is reading the first Nancy Drew - which she found at a second-hand store: The Mystery in the Old Clock. I finished my Cary Grant biography and am now reading (and loving) Jack Finney's Time and Again. It makes me miss New York City - even though I've heard it is unbearably humid there today.
-- Bren said to me, holding my grandfather's copy of Ulysses (I think it's a fourth edition) - "I have no idea what is going on. NONE." I said, "What part are you on?" He said, "Oh ... Stephen Dedalus lives in a tower with a couple friends, and he's teaching at some kind of high school." I said, "Uhm - that IS what's going on. You've got it! NOTHING ELSE IS GOING ON. He lives in a tower. He teaches school. That's it!!"
-- Stars. Fireflies. Wind. A big sweeping wind last night.
-- Oh. And this was a total treat. Last night I finally met Dan. That one was a long time coming, let me tell you. It was so fun to put a face to the screenname and the blog. We met up at a bar, we ate, we talked, we watched the Sox game (most of it, anyway) ... Yet another blogger who is as cool (if not cooler) in person as he is in his writing. Funny, too, to meet someone who is, in essence, a total stranger - but who - because he reads your blog and because you read his blog - there's all this background knowledge between the two of you. It's a riot. Anyway: Dan - it was very cool to meet you. I've been reading his blog for ... 2 years now? Something like that? My sisters were a bit nervous: "Now ... who are you going to meet? Should we be nervous?" I said, "Uhm ... Dan?" They said, "Oh yeah, we know Dan! He seems really cool!" Life in the Internet era. Amazing. It was very cool to meet him ... I was nervous walking into the bar ... it's always a little nerve-wracking ... but it's funny: I recognized him. I mean, I knew what he looked like, sure ... but I recognized him, in terms of his personality - the personality he puts out there on his site, and in the comments on my site. I love that.
-- Speaking of Dan: It was SO FUN driving to meet him. I don't drive that much - I don't have a car - so I was blasting CDs, I had the windows down ... the night was beautiful ... I felt amazing. I played The Eminem Show at top volume. It made me feel like: dang, I need a car. Not to really GO anywhere, but to just tool around on a summer night with the windows down, blaring albums I love. Awesome feeling.
-- Watching Bren and Cash walking along the beach, father and son ... Cashel is a mini Brendan. Same posture, same bathing trunks, same way of walking ... It was heart-crackingly cute.
July 9, 2005
Snapshots
-- I don't post on my blog for 2 days and I have been completely harassed by spam. I open my mailbox and feel like crying. These MOTHERF***ERS. I want them DEAD. I want those spammers DEAD. GodDAMNIT. How do they KNOW that I'm not posting on my blog? Is it like there's some alarm bell that goes off in some spam-central-HQ: "Sheila appears to be out of town. Let's get her." I'm telling you, I am at my wits end. I feel violently towards them. I wish them HEARTACHE and SUFFERING, those harassers. grrrrrrr
-- My father's garden is absolutely exploding with color. You stand out in the side yard and you're amazed by its blazing vibrance. I'll take some pictures and post them.
-- My high school reunion was last night. It was so incredible. I'm still processing it ... I'll post more later. But I couldn't even get to sleep last night because I kept just thinking and remembering, and re-living little moments with this person or that person. It was a huge turnout, and ... while it was a big ol' PARTY ... there was also something really moving about the whole thing. Everyone looked gorgeous, too. It was a torrential downpour last night ... and a couple of us were laughing, because it was the same weather we had for our senior prom. Not a runofthemill rainshower, not a drizzle ... No. A careening thunderous POUND of rain which renders every umbrella useless. Our senior prom was a madhouse - with all of us racing from our limos into the Newport mansion where we had our prom - with little attendants chasing after us with umbrellas - all to no avail. We invariably got soaked. So it was appropriate that last night it was the same way.
June 11, 2005
Snapshots
-- Today has been muggy as hell. There is a haze of mug in the air. The city across the river looks sickly, drowsy, and OUT of it. There is not the usual glitter. It's too hot.
-- Thunder has been grumbling in the night air for a couple of hours now. I can hear the leaves in the trees starting to move outside ... sudden gusts of wind ... so probably some sort of storm approaches. It will be a relief. I don't have AC in my apartment.
-- I have the hardest time sticking to my 'weekend to-do list' which is always a mile long. Honestly, I need more discipline. I only checked a couple of items off today, and I hate that feeling. I consistently feel like Scarlet O'Hara ... "tomorrow's another day!" Yeah, that's true, Scarlet, but what about TODAY, huh? Let's try working on stuff TODAY! At least I got a new coffee pot, because my old one suddenly died this morning. Check it off the list.
-- Saw Cinderella Man tonight. Renee didn't ruin it for me, although she ruined quite a bit of it. An analysis of why this is the case (besides my contempt for her) will follow. But Russell Crowe is wonderful, Paul Giamatti is fanTASTIC, and my favorite part of the movie (no surprise here) is how vividly it invokes the Great Depression. Times were tough, man ... and movies, in general, have a hard time dealing with that fact. They feel the need to sentimentalize it. Except for, say, Grapes of Wrath. I truly got the sense of hardship. The boxing scenes are brutal. The sound effects - the sound of the punches - were awful, almost worse than the visuals. I could barely watch. Renee is her same old phony self - commenting on the character the entire time, simplifying her, boiling her down. It's an extremely unimaginative portrait. She does not come to life, because Renee Zellweger, at the get-go - probably from the first read-through - decided who this woman was, and never let any surprises come out from that moment forward. Like I said - more on that later.
-- Mainly it was good to see the movie to hang out in air-conditioning for a while.
May 11, 2005
Snapshots
-- The Empire State Building is lit up a deep purple tonight. Beautiful.
-- Had my writing group tonight. Working hard to get my manuscripts ready for my class, beginning on June 8. Funny, now that the class fasteth approacheth, I look at my writing and think: "God, this is CRAP." It's good to face these demons, to be with this uncertainty. It's not just about thinking your stuff is good, and thinking that what you do is worthwhile. It's also about sticking with it even when you feel doubt. Even when you know you have a lot of work to do. A good process.
-- There's a very interesting show on right now, on Court TV, about the Lindbergh kidnapping. It's all about the investigation into Hauptmann - in particular, to that weird ladder found - and the importance of what became known as Rail 16. Hauptmann was convicted pretty much because of that ladder. There were other things involved, and there is quite a bit of evidence pointing towards Hauptmann's innocence ... but he was convicted because of Rail 16. I love this stuff, it's so interesting. Forensic details - people whose ENTIRE JOB it is to analyze wood. There are people on the earth who are WOOD experts. Fascinating. And there are modern-day forensic scientists talking about this case as though it is present-day.
-- VH1 had a great special on last night about Metallica. If I wasn't careful, my passion for Metallica could take over my life. I love those guys. They're all so nuts, but they're also so likable - in this crazy honest rock-star way. Also, there's just the mere fact of their MUSIC and how it all happened for them. They've been around forever. And the Black Album was one of those albums that just never stopped. It was a phenomenon. They toured with that one album for three years. Every song on that album got radio play. They toured for a year, came home, and then some OTHER song from the album hit # 1 in, say, Tokyo - and they had to go on tour again. Albums rarely get that huge. It was self-perpetuating, it continued to grow and grow and grow ... All the guys in the band, talking in interviews, still talk about being blown away by the response to that album. See? The obsession could take over my life. I can't even listen to them that much because if I did, I would soon find that I would be unable to listen to anything else.
-- Cashel was in church this past Sunday. And there was some ceremony at the end of the service, where people got to get up and state what they wished for, what they prayed for. I have only heard this story third-hand, so the details are a bit fuzzy. Anyway, Cashel's mom asked Cashel if he had anything he wanted to wish for. Cashel said something material - like a toy, or a book. She said, "Actually, it's not really that kind of wish. What else do you hope for in life?" Cashel thought a bit, and then came up with a good one. I'm not gonna say what it is, but let's just say this: it is a deeply held true wish. "The substance of things hoped for." His little heart filled with this sensitive hope. So Cashel got up and went up to the front of the church when it was his turn ... and how did he begin? What did he start off with? He started off with the following words: "Dare I hope??" Oh God, what I would have given to be there. Cashel standing up there, a small 7 year old boy, proclaiming to the congregation: "Dare I hope???"
May 5, 2005
Snapshots
-- I went to the New York Public Library last night, to hear a panel of authors (4 playwrights, and one graphic-novelist) talk about literature today - what is it? What is happening in literature? What is our relationship to it? Is it different now than it used to be? The panel was led by Erik Bogosian, and two of my favorite playwrights: John Guare and John Patrick Shanley were on the panel. Another one of the playwrights, Stephen Adly Guirgis, is a guy I've met - he works with Philip Seymour Hoffman's theatre company, Labyrinth. I've auditioned for them a couple of times. Guirgis' plays have had enormous successes at Labyrinth. He's very New York-ish, very down to earth. Showed up last night in jeans, he's got the tough-guy accent - so so likable ... I saw his Our Lady of 121st Street and it's funny: I get used to not hearing good new writing on the stage anymore. So when you hear an original voice, a funny voice, it's such a treat. But what I really want to say is: I am absoLUTEly in love with John Patrick Shanley. Oh my GOD. I mean, first of all - there's his writing. I mean, come on. I've been in love with his plays for years now. But him in person!! Oh, bestill the heart. It was awesome to be in the presence of John Guare, too - I saw his House of Blue Leaves on Broadway when I was in high school (Ben Stiller in a spectacular Broadway debut) - great stuff. But it was Shanley I had the crush on. What I loved most was his positivity. I mean, that's obvious from his plays. That he takes an optimistic outlook on life (think about Moonstruck) - He's not a Pollyanna, but he believes in the goodness of people, and decency, and the possibility of love and human connection. So during the question and answer period, pretty much everyone standing up was complaining about the state of affairs. A lot of people used the phrase "these days" ... which is always an alarm bell going off for me. It screams: 'generality' and it screams 'sentimentality'. "These days no one cares about good writing anymore..." Uhm ... really? Do you have any statistics to back that up? Cause pretty much everyone I know gives a shit about good writing. And Shanley wouldn't let people get away with generalities, or that kind of fatalistic: NOBODY CARES ABOUT LITERATURE THESE DAYS attitude. Also, the price of theatre tickets came up at one point, how outrageous they are. Yes, this is true. But Shanley said, "There are a ton of ways to get cheap tickets. You just have to give a shit to figure it out. You can usher. You can get 25 dollar seats for the balcony. You can stand in line that day, there are all kinds of ways. And if a movie is 10 bucks now, and you go to movies all the time, then I think you can find the 25 bucks to see a play. Or you can just sit and complain about it. It's up to you." But he said all of this with such a nice humor - I loved his positivity, his outlook. Sure, some things are unfair. Sure theatre tickets are outrageously expensive. So ... what now? You want to see plays, right? Then you find a way. I just - dammit. I was in love with him. He was funny, smart, stuck to his guns - It's hard to stay positive when you're surrounded by whiners. It's really hard. But hey, he just won the Pulitzer - so he's got nothing to lose! Also, I just love his face. I love what he looks like. Sigh. Ha!! It was a great night. Really inspiring.
-- Such beautiful weather today it makes your heart ache. Oh. A perfect day. A nice wind, but warm sun ... the vista of the Hudson ... the city gleaming across the way. I was at Hamilton Park - in Weehawken, on Boulevard East. Spectacular. A cliff, a walkway, a pagoda ... you can see the entire island of Manhattan right there. Right there. The vista is amazing. I looked at all the war memorials in the park. All the men in Weehawken who had died in WWI and WWII and the Korean War. Also, you know ... it was cool ... to be in the park named after my boyfriend.
-- I finished Great Expectations. The book is such a fantastic ride, moody and dramatic and funny ... and then all the loose ends are tied up in 3 paragraphs. "And then there she was. And then I took her hand. And we lived happily ever after." That's pretty much it. But still. An awesome read. I loved how funny it was.
-- Getting ready for my class which starts June 8. I'm in a big ol' editing mode. I actually enjoy editing my own writing. I know a lot of writers find it agonizing. I LOVE it. I love cutting shit out. I love putting away my writing for a bit, not looking at it, and then taking it out again and immediately seeing what I can lose. What I don't need. It's so CLEAR. Sometimes it's a tough choice, because - I like the writing - but it's obvious that it doesn't belong. Strunk and White's command: Omit needless words - is always in my mind.
-- Red Sox fans: my great friend David is in a commercial with Tim Wakefield ... Haven't seen it yet, but apparently it's been getting much play - my sister just saw it last night. So look out for it! David is such a huge Red Sox fan ... what a rush to be in a commercial with Wake!!!
April 17, 2005
Snapshots from last night ...
-- Watching bits of Muppets Take Manhattan with my sisters. My sisters know that movie by heart. Laughter!!
-- Siobhan made an absolutely deeeeee-lish lasagna. We loved it. We had one helping, then went out to a pub for a couple drinks, came back and chowed some more.
-- Siobhan has 440 CDs in her collection. Just so you know.
-- Jean's migraine was bad. She put on a purple liquid sleep-mask, and lay on Siobhan's bed with a pillow over her head. We all stood around the bed, continuing the conversation, Jean talking as well ... but if anyone had looked in, and not known what was going on, they would have been like: "WTF???"
-- We walked down the street, cool night air, to an Irish pub called The Brogue. A guy named Steve Reilly was playing guitar - playing stuff like Free Falling, and Harry Chapin of all things. LOUD. We had to shout to be heard.
-- Much Red Sox conversation.
-- Good to be together. Family is the best thing in the world. The only thing missing was our brother ... we called him and left him a collective "we wish you were here" message.
February 14, 2005
Weekend snapshots
-- A Friday night gathering with dear friends Beth, Betsy, and Mere (you know ... my "clique" from high school.) We sat around Beth's dining room table, we drank wine, we talked, laughed, told stories, we ate so much food that we scared ourselves and finally had to just push the damn plates away. Beth's house is a haven for us. We convene there as often as we can.
-- A post-sunset walk on the beach with my sister and her dog. The sand was flat, hard, and the tide was very low, leaving the beach wide and long. The coastline curves around, and you can see the orange lamplights shining through the night, like a necklace. Jean's dog had a ball of a time - he's a black lab - so we couldn't really see him in the darkness, but we could hear his collar jingling, as he raced about.
-- Lots of conversations about Arthur Miller.
-- A clothes-shopping extravaganza with my mother. Excuse me, but Marshall's ROCKS. I got something like 7 pieces of clothing for 70 bucks. And we're talking really nice name-brand skirts, cool shirts ... I felt greedy and very excited. I love my new skirts. (Jean, they're the brand-name you recommended - member the chick you pointed out at D'Angelos? There's a ton of those skirts at Marshall's and I got two. I love them.)
-- My dad made a wood fire. I loved walking up the flagstone path to the front of the house, and you can smell the smoke from the chimney. Such a homey cozy smell.
-- Dinner at Giro's - a restaurant/bar that has always been there, it is a landmark ... I haven't been there in years. Funnily enough: it was just bought by a person I grew up with, his family lived across the street from mine. I remember him as a small freckled mischievous 5 year old boy. Jean remembers that he had a bike with an orange banana seat. And now - he is a tall married man, his wife is pregnant, and he owns Giro's. He came over to the table to say hello to all of us, and it was just awesome. He looks EXACTLY the same, except that he is 6 feet tall. And time keeps rolling on ... Nice to meet those people again, the ones who knew you when.
-- I walked down to the pond at the end of my street. It's now frozen, and someone has placed benches out on the ice. The trees surround the pond, bare ranks of grey and brown. There's much more snow up here than there is down in New York. I used to go skating on that pond when I was a teenager. I dragged Mere along once, as I recall.
-- I hung out at Jean and Pat's on Saturday night, after we came back from Giro's, and we watched Saturday Night Live, guest-hosted by the new love of my life: Jason Bateman. And Kelly Clarkson was the musical guest. Now - that girl has some pipes. I think she has an inCREDible instrument - member her singing "God Bless America" at, I think it was the first game of the World Series? She did a great job - she's got one of those God-given gifts in that voice. So I do not know WHAT she was thinking with the hard-rock songs she chose ... her voice is made for big power ballads. There was something weird about having an electric guitar jamming out ... her voice was drowned out. Strange. Not a good choice. Also - Kelly: did you really knock over that microphone stand? Why? Are you like a hard-rock chick now? I don't think so!
-- Tearing through East of Eden. I can't stop. I'll write more of my thoughts on it later.
-- Somehow, my parents and I got to talking about "Google" and how it has changed our lives. Oh, I know how it came up. It was because of the "bimulous night" thing. It's hard to imagine life without Google now, it has changed research, etc. My dad is a librarian, and he said, "I don't know what librarians will call themselves in the future ... and what their job will actually be anymore ... but it sure won't be what it was in the past." Later, he said, in regards to where the profession of "librarian" is going, in lieu of Google: "I feel like I'm a blacksmith in 1910."
February 5, 2005
Snapshots
-- So I've got a big Super Bowl bash to go to tomorrow. Lots of fun. We're all Patriots fans.
-- Holy crapola: I FINISHED UNDERWORLD THIS MORNING. I DID IT. I started that novel in ... NOVEMBER? I have no idea. Let's just say: WAY TOO LONG AGO. And yes. The ending is quite moving, well-written, and actually kind of redemptive. However, I have this to say: The book does not add up. It just doesn't. The promise of the beginning is somehow diffused in the way over-written prose in the middle. I lost the plot. Oh well. But still. I was DETERMINED to finish it, and I did. Now. Onto another book.
-- I saw my sister Siobhan in a Eugene O'Neill festival last night. It was a festival of scenes from his plays, and she was in Touch of the Poet. A very very sad piece of writing. Siobhan was lovely, she had a soft brogue that sounded totally real ... and she had one moment when her husband says something cruel to her, and she flinched, her eyes filling with tears ... but then in the next second, she recovered, put on a brave smile. Lovely work.
-- It is spring here, all of a sudden. Balmy. Warm, soft air, warm wind. The snow melting. What?? Three days ago it was frigid. Schizo.
-- I watched some of Kate & Leopold early this morning. Just because it makes me feel good. I love that stupid sappy movie. I really do.
-- Off-line writing continuing on. I am hard at work. A busy bee.
-- Speaking of Eugene O'Neill, I am now going to be a "play-reader" for the Eugene O'Neill Theatre in Connecticut. What this means is: playwrights from all over submit new pieces of work to the O'Neill, in the hopes that the theatre will choose to do a production of it. The theatre is so well-renowned that they must get hundreds (if not thousands) of these submissions a year. A daunting task to read them all. So they need people to read the scripts for them, people who are, of course, qualified on SOME level to give educated feedback on whether or not these are good plays, what works, what doesn't work - and I start this week. 5 new plays are now shrieking towards my mailbox. I'm very excited to get to work.
January 31, 2005
Snapshots
-- The Hudson is now pretty much encased in ice. It's gorgeous in a fierce glittering kind of way. I stood out there this morning, freezing-cold, watching the mini icebergs float by. Then this morning, I checked in on CW's site, and had to laugh at his latest post. Just because of the contrast.
-- I finished the biography of Howard Hughes I had been reading. The ending of his life is not only tragic but enraging. It's weirder than fiction. The evil Mormon aides ... so WEIRD. I have no idea how much of it is true. I have no idea if he really was trapped by his own people who were vying for control of his billionis, and who encouraged his drug addiction in order to keep him docile ... And they were all MORMONS, which ... the whole thing is very odd. Apparently, Hughes had all of the various women in his life followed, tailed, bugged, etc. And he had a problem, in the beginning, with his staff assigned to follow these girls falling in love with them, or stealing them. So Hughes said he only wanted homosexuals to be on his staff. Since this was in the 1940s and 50s, though, being out was not a common thing, and Hughes found it hard to find anyone who would admit to being gay. So then he came upon the brilliant idea: straight-laced Mormons! But the way they treated him, neglected him, pumped him full of drugs ... it's tragic. It made me mad.
-- I'm writing like a Tasmanian devil. Lots of plans. Lots of things going on. It stresses me out. But I'm also very pleased with my work, even though it is all just in progress right now.
-- I watched the movie 61* last night, for ... oh ... the HUNDREDTH TIME???? In my estimation, it is that rarity: a perfect movie. Every scene, every performance, the story itself ... the way the story is told ... it just WORKS. On every level. Barry Pepper and Thomas Jane ... day-um. That is some fine acting. And ... I may be insane, but it really looks like, in certain scenes, that they are ACTUALLY playing baseball. It's awesome. Like ... Thomas Jane is just an actor and all, but there were certain moments on the field when I believed I was looking at Mickey Mantle. And Barry Pepper has Roger Maris' specific swing down to a T. Oh, and Bruce McGill as the General Manager ... who the hell is better than Bruce McGill??? Let me scream it from the hilltops: I LOVE BRUCE MCGILL. He's one of those character actors that you probably know, you would know his face ... I LOVE his work. Bagger Vance - as one of the golfers, his movie-stealing turn in The Insider... There's not a more exciting moment in The Insider than during the deposition when he suddenly screams at the tobacco lawyer: "WIPE THAT SMIRK OFF YOUR FACE." Bruce feckin' McGill. A fine fine actor. Great scene between McGill and Pepper (as Roger Maris - who is pretty much freaking out from all the stress) in McGill's office. Where McGill finally says to him, "Like it or not, Roger, right now ... you're bigger than the game." 61* is a great film. Congrats, Billy Crystal ... you really GOT it. Not only did you tell a compelling and fascinating story, but you infused the entire tale with a love of baseball, a true understanding of the sport, the love of the sport. Barry Pepper's work in some scenes makes me cry. BRAVO TO ALL INVOLVED.
-- Last night was a cooking night. I don't cook every night ... but last night I did. It was fun. Went to the grocery store, stocked up ... There is a feeling of well-being when the fridge is full. So I cooked. The kitchen was warm, cozy, the lights were low ... and I felt even MORE cozy because I knew that pretty much just outside the river was clogged up with icebergs.
-- Strange crying jags. But then also strange laughing jags. Guffawing on the phone with my friend Beth... Like Joni Mitchell said: "Laughter or tears ... it's the same release." (MJF? Is that the quote??) You know. Laughter/Tears. Par for the course.
-- Oh, forgot to mention: saw the movie Mean Girls. I was completely surprised by how much I loved it. I actually think I need to own it. Strangely enough. It was witty, ridiculous, the script was smart and FUNNY ("But honey, you love Ladysmith Black Mambazo!") - there were some laugh-out-loud funny moments, and it was also quite poignant. It had some meaning. I was not expecting any of that, and again ... it was a lovely surprise. Love a movie that makes me laugh. And I finally, grudgingly, realized why Lindsay Lohan has become the latest "It Girl". Because, ehm, she's kind of feckin' adorable, that's why. She's lovable. She's a perfect teen star. I loved her character. And go, Tina Fey!! Tim Meadows as the beleaguered principal with chronic carpal-tunnel was hilarious.
-- I like to sit at my desk, in my pre-dawn morning ritual, with the cup of coffee next to me, the desk-lamp on ... and re-read what I have written the day before. I've got this whole system with my off-line writing, how I write, when I edit, blah blah blah. In a weird way, the drudgery of editing is one of my favorite parts. I sit there, it's still dark out, the curtains are drawn, I've got incense burning, I've cooked a couple hard-boiled eggs for the breakfast, and I read what I've written out loud to myself. It's enormously helpful. You hear things you might have missed, (like repetitive words, awkward phrasing, or too much writing in general) - than when you just edit with your eye scanning the page. Precious dawn moments. I would be so wigged out without that time.
-- My friend Ted and I went to go see Vera Drake last week, and I'm pretty much still haunted by it. The movie has remained with me, I have found it hard to shake it. Imelda Staunton ... holy crapola. I remember her highly comedic performance as the dim-witted curly-haired wife of the big ol' CURMUDGEON in Sense and Sensibility. She played a woman who did not have a brain in her head, who literally had never had a thought worth thinking. An AIRHEAD. And so nothing could prepare me for what she did in Vera Drake. God. It was one of the harshest most upsetting movies I had seen all year. Stellar acting all around.
-- Funny. I just saw my entire family on Saturday. And I already miss them all. It was wonderful, I got to talk to pretty much everyone for at least SOME amount of time ... but still. The family is so huge. Invariably there are people you "miss".
-- Continuing on with reading the Adams-Jefferson correspondence. I am already getting ready to do a big Presidents Day thing here on the blog, made up of quotes from the letters. These letters are so intense, and so incredible, that it's almost like I can SEE the hair rising up on my arms as I read them. Yay for being a Founding Fathers geek!!
-- Cool, man. A fireball over Madrid.
-- I think I need to get out more.
January 15, 2005
Snapshots
-- Wintry weather. At last. I took a long walk this morning as the sun was coming up, and I was loving the icy wind, the cold clear colors in the sky, my fabulous green Marc Jacobs fuzzy gloves. (Ahem)
-- I am now tearing along through Underworld, by Don DeLillo, after a couple month's break. (Not really my style, with a book I like. Especially fiction.) But Underworld is so big, so dense - and the chapters are all pretty self-contained - there's not an unbroken narrative - I've found it easy to put it down, pick it back up. I'm now in the kaleidoscopic section called "Better Living Through Better Chemistry" - which is subtitled something like "Fragments Public and Private - 1950s - 1970s". It's hypnotic. We've got a series of anecdotes - showing Lenny Bruce in action in various comedy clubs - during the tense week of the Cuban missile crisis. We've got a couple of anecdotes about J. Edgar Hoover going to Truman Capote's famous black & white ball in Nov. 1966. We've got one of the main characters in the book driving his girlfriend over the border to get an abortion in 1957. A bleak and surreal scene. Our main character is thinking about unlived lives, basically. The unlived lives of the aborted. But meanwhile, he's sitting in the waiting room of this dingy weird office over the border in Mexico, with indigenous art on the walls, and the smells of cooking coming from an apartment above, and his girlfriend is getting an abortion, and ... he sits there, thinking about unlived lives. We've got a weird anecdote (which I cannot figure out yet, why it's there, what it means) about the mother of one of the other characters in the book (but this other character is so incidental, so small, that I had to look back through the book to even figure out who he was) - anyway, this mother is OBSESSED with jello molds. So we go through her jello process, on a summer day in the late 1950s, she's in her perfect kitchn, making 5,000 jello molds ... it's a CREEPY chapter. I have no idea yet what that one is about. There are many more ... "fragments public and private". It's adding up to a collage, a bit mysterious, not a complete picture yet. But certainly riveting reading. Especially because all of this stuff is well-known history to me, due to my interests, my nationality, my generation. Great stuff.
-- My parents are here this weekend. We're going out to dinner tonight at a little place in the Village (one of my favorite joints on the island of Manhattan - love it. It has about 7 tables, a wonderful waitstaff, an incredible wine list ... and it's chilled out, and yet romantic ... they don't rush you out, even though there are only 7 tables). Anyway, I'm very much looking forward to that time with the parents. They're also sleeping over tonight in my broom-closet-sized apartment, so that should be interesting.
-- I am also continuing on with the correspondence of John and Abigail Adams and Thomas Jefferson. I am still in the early years, when they are all in Europe (the Adams' are now in England, Jefferson still back in Paris) and exchanging letters - many of them in code. Great stuff. They're very prosaic - not like the philosophical flights-of-fancy letters at the ends of their lives, when they were pretty much off the public stage, and in the process of contemplating mortality. These early letters are all: Please have Dr. Franklin sign this so and so and send it back to me...The situation here is quite uncomfortable ... Prosaic diplomatic stuff. Still outrageously fascinating. I find it VERY interesting, too, to see the entire change in demeanor when Jefferson writes to Abigail as opposed to John. Perhaps not all that surprising, but still very interesting. Abigail and Jefferson had a very special bond ... and it was many many many years later, when Jefferson was trying to heal the relationship with her (in his own aloof strange way) - that she wrote the immortal words: "Faithfull are the Wounds of a Friend." Jaysus, Abigail, you are correct on that one. There is nothing so FAITHFUL as the wound given to you by a FRIEND. That shit lasts forever. So to read the BEGINNINGS of this special relationship, in the exchange of letters when she was in London and he in Paris, is beautiful. Jefferson seems like a completely different man when writing to Abigail. Open, teasing, emotional ... it's quite astonishing. In comparison to the bluntness of his other letters. It's great stuff. I'm tearing through it.
-- I find this photograph, especially the eyeballs, intensely amusing.
January 13, 2005
Snapshots:
-- I saw Kinsey. I'll write more about it later. You know who I liked the most, surprisingly? Laura Linney. Not really wacky about her acting in general, but she was terrific in this movie. HOWEVER, no one can hold a candle to the one-scene-cameo at the very end of the movie by Lynn Redgrave. Oh. My. God. It's underplayed, it's completely real, it feels like you're watching a documentary. And not only that ... but it moved me to tears. The rest of the movie kind of left me cold, I didn't really care about any of those people, even though the topic itself is of great interest to me. It felt like a survey course, like Psych 103, or something. Too general. But Lynn Redgrave's monologue at the end? Tears ran down my face. Bravo. I'll probably babble on about the movie later when I have a bit more time. You know, my typical obsessive thing that I do.
-- Horrible dreams lately. Horrible. HORRIBLE. I wake up feeling like I've been beaten about the psyche. Yuck. Something's going on.
-- The weather has been unseasonably warm here, and also very wet. Every day I walk outside to a light drizzle, the steps damp in the morning air. The wind is soft and moist, and I can hear birds chirping in the dawn. It's January. I literally do not know what the heck is going on with this weather. This morning, I walked out of my apartment. Again, greeted by the mild wet air. Looked to my right (morning ritual) and saw a thick white mist filling the space between Manhattan and my cliff-dwelling. It was like my cliff was floating on the edge of nothingness. Manhattan disappeared behind the white. Odd.
-- This post about Derek Lowe is so perfect. It reflects my own feelings about that guy. So strangely unreliable, and emotional, like a head case, with the pink spots on the cheeks, and the stressed-out exhales ... but then suddenly ... genius erupts. This quote from the post says it best: "Yeah, there was something infuriating about the way he'd unravel like a sweater before our eyes, and the way he looked as if he was receiving messages from a distant space station when he should have been focusing on his catcher. But, remarkably, he could always slip into the big pants when we needed him most." Exactly.
-- Of course, I started "the correspondence" last night. I get this weird lump of pride in my throat when I read the prose, the ideas, the concerns of "those guys". It's terrific stuff, and when I get further into it, I'll be posting some stuff from it. I am planning another Presidents Day extravaganza ... only I think this year it will be solely from "the correspondence". Abigail Adams' letters to Jefferson make me want to cry.
-- I miss my friends. I miss my family. I've been too much of a hermit lately. Too many cobwebs in the brain. Need to get out into the world more.
December 12, 2004
Bullet points
-- What am I reading right now? The Secret History of the IRA, by Ed Moloney
-- What's the song I'm obsessing about right now? "Holiday" by Green Day. I find that I can't get enough. I just can't. When the fever passes, and other music is allowed into my life again, I'll let you know.
-- Is it baseball season yet?
-- Last night I had a dream about tidal waves. It was a montage of tidal waves. But the dream wasn't a scary dream, somehow. It was exciting. There were shots of houses and buildings engulfed in the foam of a massive crashing wave. There were shots of the chaos in the middle of the ocean. And then - there was this little postcard from a small remote island - The postcard showed a clapboard house standing there, and the windows reflected an enormous tidal wave approaching. Kind of a scary image, right? But the message on the postcard was something like: "From the island of Narwah - we welcome you!" Only, the dream made it clear that the postcard was welcoming the tidal wave. It wasn't a "Miss you, wish you were here" message, it was a "Greetings, tidal wave!!"message. I have tidal wave dreams once a decade, and I always perk up and pay attention when I have them. They seem to be harbingers of big things. Change, growth, getting into the subconscious, whatever. Hm. Maybe it has something to do with Harmony and Patience? Whatever it "has to do with", it was a pretty damn cool dream.
-- Christmas shopping? What? When? After my experience last year, ("the nightmare commute") I know I cannot have a repeat of THAT nonsense. Must figure something out ... It sucks when Christmas is on a Saturday, frankly.
-- I have not finished Underworld yet - but I found (Linus, you were right!) that it is perfectly all right to put the book down for a bit, read something else, and then pick it up again. It doesn't have a driving narrative, not at all, but it's well-written and compelling enough that when I pick it up again, I find myself launched right back into that world.
-- I put up my nativity scene this morning. My mom sent me the. Most. Adorable terra-cotta nativity set. Well, it's kind of a mini-set, actually. I've got Mary, I've got Joseph, and I've got the weeest terra cotta Baby Jesus you have ever seen in your life. They're abstract - terra cotta figures - but I find them so soothing, so beautiful. I set them up in my window, and I love looking at them.
-- I need to see Something's Gotta Give again, and so that's what I'm doing tonight. Cannot get enough of that movie. CANNOT. I will be writing a post on it ... but right now, I'm too busy enjoying every stinking minute of it.
November 15, 2004
Bullet points
-- Underworld by Don DeLillio isn't just good. It's scary-good. I can't even describe my response to this guy's prose. It's beyond good. It's not pretentious, or lofty - On the contrary. It is weighty with emotion, with heart. His writing is beyond good.
-- This is one of the most amusing photos I've seen in a long while. She just looks ... completely insane. Like .. what? Uhm ... you are a LUNATIC.
-- An entire article devoted to why the murder trial of Robert Blake is NOT the trial of the century. How boring - to have it be your job to analyze this. It seems self-evident. It also seems disgusting. A woman is dead, for God's sake.
-- Slowly making my way through Eminem's latest. Haven't listened to the whole thing yet - but I just want to give him a huge kiss for sampling my favorite Heart song: "Crazy On You". Brilliant.
-- I am very excited to see the movie Kinsey, for multiple reasons. One is that I have always been a big Liam Neeson fan. The guy's a great actor - and advance word about his role in this is that it is some of his best work yet. I am also excited to see it because I hope the film is a hit, and I would like to contribute to its being a hit. Why do I feel invested in its success? Because - it is my hope that every ticket bought for this film will make some "moral-values" type lose sleep. They're all up in arms about this movie, predictably, informing all of us how bad Kinsey was, lecturing all of us about how he contributed to the downfall of our society. Or whatever it is they're saying. I love it when those "moral values" idiots get their panties in a wad. But I mostly love it when I get to contribute to their discomfort. The movie is probably GREAT if they're whining so loudly about it. And even if it SUCKS, I'm going to rave about how awesome it is. Just to piss them off.
-- The writing for this book review is laugh-out-loud funny. I can't excerpt it, because of my blushing-flower persona, but I'm tellin' ya. I guffawed over here reading the line about Karl Marx. Heh heh heh
-- Back to Eminem now. "Mockingbird" is a really touching song. "Just Lose It" is hilarious. One of those call-to-dance songs - like "Without Me" was. A bar could be DEAD, and someone would put on "Without Me", and suddenly everyone's bopping around in their seats. I'm remembering a certain dead evening at The Ocean Mist, in particular. A freezing wintry night on the beach. People drinking quietly, talking, etc. We put on "Without Me", and all hell broke loose. As I recall, a disco ball even began to spin about randomly. In a dingy fisherman's bar of all places. But it seemed appropriate. Old fuddy-duddies would dance to "Without Me" - they would not be able to help themselves - and "Just Lose It" is the "Without Me" of this new album.
Update: I just realized that this entire post would probably seem like one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse to the "moral values" crowd. A harbinger of doom and universal destruction. Didn't realize it until I saw it all put together.
It was quite unconscious, I assure you. Seems rather amusing, actually. Eminem? Kinsey? A review of a book teaching orgasm-technique? That Sheila is such a HUSSY! What is this world coming to????? I can hear the galloping hooves now ...
October 19, 2004
Snapshots
Things Done This Past Week
-- Kate and Tim's wedding. It could not have been more beautiful. "Pastor Sean" was wonderful. Sean and Guy and I all sat around at the rehearsal dinner, and talked about how emotional we were about this wedding (and we all had major duties to perform - Sean was marrying them, actually marrying them - Guy was singing - and I was reading) -- We all discussed our fears of literally bursting into tears at inappropriate moments. None of that occurred. We got it all out at the rehearsal dinner. I got to know Kate's parents, her brothers, their wives ... It was awesome.
-- Alex did my hair and makeup for the wedding, thank the good Lord above. I came home from my manicure, and Alex had already heated up the hot rollers. I even let her tweeze my eyebrows a bit, which lets you know that I trusted her immediately. I looked a bit glamorous, I must admit. She confessed to me, later, "The second I met you, I wanted to attack your eyebrows."
-- Mitchell and I jitterbugged at the wedding reception. Just like old times. My shoes sucked. I ditched them as soon as possible.
-- We watched Now Voyager.
-- We watched Star is Born. "I need a job ..." Is it me, or is James Mason TOTALLY under-rated? He's fantastic. And Judy's scene in the dressing room is basically what, for me, acting is all about. So freakin' good. Real. Just REAL.
-- I watched Silkwood with Eric.
"Dolly Pellecker..."
"I'm soo tired of your jokes ..."
"They're just seeds, Karen..."
-- We watched Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte, a truly bizarre movie starring Bette Davis, Olivia de Haviland and Joseph Cotten. It was supposed to star Joan Crawford, but Olivia ended up doing it - and it's kind of a follow-up to Baby Jane. SO WEIRD. Has anyone else seen it? Alex and I did imitations of Bette Davis' shrieking and barking and growling scene, as she crawled backwards down the stairs... We "did" Bette until we cried with laughter. The shot ends with Bette, right up against the camera, with an absolutely lunatic look on her face, her eyes juuuust slightly crossed. IT IS RIOTOUS. We were roaring. Alex has memorized the entire movie, and not only that - but the WAY people say their lines. "John never ... even ... .... John?"
-- Many many guffaws of laughter. Out. Of. Control.
-- Alex and I explained the American Revolution to Eric, in tag-team fashion. I think we should have a show on the History Channel. It was great fun. We wanted to move into the Civil War, but we got a bit confused on dates, and events. It is not my specialty. Chrisanne is a huge Civil War buff, so we could have used her - only she had gone to bed.
-- I saw Mitchell's circus in downtown Chicago on a freezing biting cold windy day. They perform in Daley Plaza, right by the massive Picasso (that little kids use as a slide - I love that ...) Some incredible circus acts, and people thronging to watch, with their little bundled up kids.
-- Mitchell and I walked through Boy's Town - our old 'hood (or at least one of them). We looked at my old building, I felt so WEIRD looking at it ... my first apartment, ever. We walked down to the lake, it was chilly, grey, bitter - the skyline looked fantastic. They've put this concrete slab all along the water ... a wide slanting slab that goes right up to the lake - the lake slaps against it. The blue lake against the white concrete ... It looks very - er - Greek amphitheatre-ish. The air was wild, whipping past us, it was glorious. The Chicago I remember.
-- In one week, we became a happy commune. Alex, Chrisanne, Eric, Mitchell, and myself. And the 3 cats (who kept looking at all of us a bit askance, like: "When are you going away??"). Alex, the movie fanatic. I bonded with her on that score. And Chrisanne, the history fanatic ... The first day Chrisanne came home (the first moment I met her, actually) - she had stopped off at a book store on her way home. I said, "What did you buy?" She pulled out a biography of Abigail Adams. Um - old movies and John and Abigail Adams? HELLO???
-- We were pretty much all about the wack-job that is Joan Crawford. During the Hollywood Palace footage we watched, she kept messing up her words - because of her drunkenness. "I have benjoyed tonight's show..." Also, at one point ... one of the guests asks Joan Crawford how she managed to succeed as an actress. Here is EXACTLY what Joan said (and please imagine that she said it in the PHONIEST way possible): "You just be natural and be yourself. It's very sample." I mean, we analyzed that moment to SHREDS. First of all: You, Joan Crawford, are telling us to "be natural and be yourself" - as you stand there in long blue gloves, with your adopted children locked up in the closet at home? Second of all: "It's very sample????"
So "sample" became the theme of the week. "I just tried to be sample. That's all." We made fun of Joan Crawford's bumbling words so much that we finally ended up calling her "Crone Jawford":
"Good evening. I'm Crone Jawford. I hope that you have benjoyed tonight's sample show."
-- We watched Straitjacket with Crone Jawford, in possibly one of the LEAST sample performances I have ever seen in my life. Has anyone ever seen this? There's a moment where a slutty Crone Jawford (who is supposed to be a "sample farm girl") lights a cigarette off of a playing record, and the record shrieks to a halt. Now - you kind of have to have been there, I realize that - but Alex, Eric and I laughed so hard at that one moment that we watched it 5 times in a row, literally cackling and guffawing at 1 in the morning - It's amazing we didn't wake up the whole neighborhood. Alex actually did a spit-take at one point. Alex KEPT doing the sound of the record shrieking to a halt. Mitchell had gone to bed, and I asked him the next morning if he had heard our wild laughing shenanigans. He said no. He said, "Were you laughing at the part with the record player?"
People - if you ever get a chance, and want a good laugh - and also want to watch a woman's absolutely incomprehensible performance - watch Strait-jacket.
In the moment BEFORE the record-player extravaganza, Crone Jawford is staring at the psychiatrist, with a look of anger, betrayal ... and then that look disappears ... and she becomes sultry ... knowing ... and then in the next second, she gets swept away by the music, and she claps a couple of times ... then she walks to get a cigarette, throwing the psychiatrist a hostile look ... and then - OOPS - she breaks the match ... showing her sudden nerves ... Etc. Do you get the picture? It was a cornucopia of RANDOM EMOTION. Eric, watching it, commented flatly, "She's in 4 different movies right now."
Alex said later, "Joan was still acting like it was 1940. She completely missed that acting styles had changed."
Oh, people. My stomach still hurts from laughing that night.
-- Alex and I had a huge William Holden appreciation conversation. We re-lived his performance in Network - how good, how damn GOOD he is.
-- The get-together at Guthrie's Tavern was great - Scott Janssens showed up (dude, you completely rock!!!) - plus a bunch of my really old Chicago friends. Scott was a brave soul - he knew no one, and there he was, hanging out with a group of old and dear friends. Great to have you there, Scott.
-- Scott (BLESS HIM) gave me the UN-EDITED UN-TOUCHED UN-MESSED-UP versions of the Star Wars trilogy. WHERE HAN SHOOTS FIRST!!!! Oh I am so thrilled ... so thrilled! Thank you!
-- I ended up doing my Liza Minelli imitation for the entire back room at Guthrie's. The Liza-stagger. The random people at other tables who had no idea what was going on stared up at me, frightened, like: Is she really walking like that??
Things Learned This Past Week
-- That the experience of getting a manicure at Sak's is as unlike your basic 15 dollar manicure as to be another breed of event altogether. Plush, man! Livin' the lush life! Kate, Liz and I all met the morning of the wedding to get the old nails done. They still look fabulous. Kate and I both got lectured about our cuticles, at almost the same moment. "Don't cut your cuticles ..." my manicurist said to me, as I heard Kate's manicurist say across the room, "Push your cuticles back ... but whatever you do, don't cut them..." Who knew?
-- My fears of looking like Bea Arthur in my bridesmaid dress were completely unfounded.
-- Bobby Darin was freakin' HOT. Okay??? I HAD NO IDEA. We watched a clip of him singing "Michael Row the Boat Ashore" (of all things) on the short-lived but unbelievable Judy Garland show, and immediately had to rewind it and watch the whole thing again. I watched it 4 times. I felt like I was 12 years old, seeing Han Solo on the screen for the first time. The dude is toe-curlingly hot, and that's pretty much all I have to say. It's really very sample: BOBBY DARIN'S HOT!!! He's hot in kind of a mean intense way ... in a kind of Robert Mitchum in "Night of the Hunter" way ... in a kind of Russell Crowe in LA Confidential way. Not handsome, no. But hot.
-- I learned that Alex loves Liza Minelli ... and I, kind of, do not, although I think her acting in Cabaret is pretty much as good as it gets. Alex and I had a great debate about Liza vs. Judy (once I had finished doing my staggering imitation of bedhead-Liza). When describing the conversation to Mitchell later, Alex said, "Sheila and I disagreed ... but we talked it over ... and we came out whole." heh heh heh About Liza and Judy!!
-- I learned that a good color of eye shadow for my skin tone is lilac. Lilac and smoke-grey.
-- I learned about the backstage drama of "the gourd" (long long story, which I actually did tell, here) A brief version: An old flame of mine was in a show with Alex 10 years ago. Alex thinks he's nuts, and also thinks I'm a bit nuts for thinking he's great. (However, I explained my relationship with this guy to Alex, and she ended up "getting it" - and she and I came out whole. Once again.) So I had come to see that show 10 years before, basically to check out my old flame ... and, spontaneously, I do not know why, I signed a gourd and sent it to him backstage. I'm a lunatic. I signed it: "Have a good show! From, Sheila". But the FUNNIEST thing about all of this - is that Alex REMEMBERS that night, and remembers how some dumb woman (me) sent this jackass a "cumquat" - (she refused to call it a gourd). "So this cumquat is sent backstage..." Apparently, Alex even wrote in her journal that night about it. "Some idiot girl sent that asshole a cumquat backstage ... Poor woman ..." We were HOWLING about all of this. She described to me his goofy happiness when he opened the paper bag and saw the gourd ... She did an imitation of him saying, "She gave me a cumquat!!" ... Of course I knew none of this at the time. My old flame came out from backstage, and he and I stood talking for a while, and he didn't even mention the cumquat. I don't know - the "night of the gourd" is kind of a famous night for me, in my life - for whatever reason - so to realize that there was actually a spectator - someone I would actually become friends with ... is pretty dern funny. I'm sure I didn't describe that in a way which lets you know how funny it was, but I don't give a crap. Alex will laugh.
"She gave me a cumquat! ho ho ho ho ..."
-- I learned that my eyebrows look quite good when they are cleaned up a bit. It's almost like having a face lift.
-- I learned that Eric laughed so hard once that he thought his eyeball would fall out.
August 24, 2004
Random thoughts
-- I swear. If I hear the words "swift boat" one more time, I will slip into a coma of von Bulow proportions.
-- Paul Hamm should share that gold medal. Who would want a gold medal under those circumstances? It's ikky. Sorry. Bad karma. Share the gold medal, and you'll feel like a big honkin' hero, Hamm. Hamm said something like, "I feel in my heart that I'm an Olympic hero." Yeah, well, I feel in my heart that I'm Greta Garbo, but unless this fantasy is somehow validated by my peers - then I have to accept the fact that I am a freckled redhead from Rhode Island. That's the BREAKS.
-- I watched the final 10 miles of the women's marathon on Saturday and I cried. It is for moments like that that I love the Olympics. When the "favorite" crumbles, when something unexpected happens - when you can see the overwhelming emotions of all the participants. Poor Paula Radcliffe. I FELT for her. She was obviously in agony, physically, by the time she dropped out. To have made it so far ... but her head was jerking up and down, her arm was moving awkwardly - her body obviously was screaming at her: I CAN'T DO THIS. So she had to give up - But what an "agony of defeat" moment. And Deena Kastor surging forward -- very very exciting. I have to admit I was annoyed by the Ethiopian runner's husband - who ran alongside her for what seemed like 10 freakin' miles, cheering her on. It was cute for maybe 2 seconds, and then I thought: Buddy. Your wife is an OLYMPIC ATHLETE. She can make it through the damn race without you. LET IT GO. Besides, Kastor surged past her anyway. I was concerned that the poor husband would impale himself on his own flagpole in despair. Like: his whole identity was obviously resting on his wife winning - what will he do NOW?? But still - very very exciting, I thought. I was just really moved - the people on the sidelines being so encouraging of poor Radcliffe - cheering her on - but she just could not run any longer.
-- There are more cops than civilians in NYC at this moment.
-- I'm reading Victor Davis Hanson's Carnage and Culture. He's a much better writer than he is a public speaker. (Have you ever seen him on Book Notes, or be interviewed on C-Span? Jeez, dude, please get some vocal variety before I literally die of psychological boredom. There was one of his interviews in re-play this weekend, and every time I tried to tune in, because I love the guy's writing, I ended up having to change the channel after about 20 seconds. Zzzzzzzzzzz. He needs some vocal training or something. He speaks in a persistent monotone.) Anyway - It's a very interesting book. I'm not big on military history, so it's all new to me. The battle of Salamis (I shuddered at Hanson's description of it) - the battle of Gaugemela - another horrific description. He certainly does paint a vivid picture, and for someone like myself - who doesn't know a hoplite from a hopscotch game, and wouldn't know a phalanx if it came up and bit me on the flank - I am following the stories quite well. There's a great Glossary at the end of the book, which has been very helpful.
August 17, 2004
Snippets
-- Last summer was so hot, so humid, that I was cranky for 2 months straight. By contrast, this summer has been rainy, misty, with grey skies, clouds rolling in every afternoon ... I'm in heaven. Lay in bed last night, listening to the rain. And then proceeded to sleep for 10 hours. UnHEARD of.
-- Inspired by my friend Allison, I am re-reading In Cold Blood. One of my favorite books ever written. I started it this morning, and once again, I am struck by the accomplishment. Now it is hard to fathom how original Capote was, how new his idea was: to take an actual crime, and to write it like fiction. Good God, "true crime" now has its own section in any bookstore. But that's mainly because of Truman Capote's book (Norman Mailer's yowls notwithstanding. Shut up, Norman. Accept that Capote got there first. Accept it.)
I think In Cold Blood is superior to Executioner's Song anyway. Granted, I think Capote is a much better writer. Much better. But also, in my opinion Gary Gilmore comes off as such an unlikable egotistical prick, and who wants to spend any time with that loser? Whether or not he's a murderer? The murderers in In Cold Blood, at least the way Capote portrays them, draw you into their web ... You start to see where they're coming from, which is even more terrifying, because where they are coming from is insane and delusional. You want to reach between the lines of the book and scream at the Clutter family: RUN! GET OUT! 2 conscience-less killers are coming your way ... they will have no remorse - they are lunatics - RUN!
It's a devastating book.
Allison mentioned it to me last night - she's never read it and it's going to be her next book. Which thrills me. As ever, I can't wait to talk with her about it.
-- It has already been waaayyyyyyy too long since Eminem came out with a CD. I'm jones-ing.
-- Watched Holiday last night. Again. Er ... is that a perfect movie, or what?
-- Sat on my roof last night with a glass of wine, and watched the heavy black clouds cross over the grey. Staring at the skyline across the water, which gleamed like a mirror. There was a cool wind, with random raindrops floating by. And for a brief 5 minutes, at sunset-time, the Manhattan skyline lights itself up in the reflection, burning, a-glow, all the windows flaming up spectacularly. Any time I'm home around that hour, the magic hour, I go up to the roof to watch the show.
August 10, 2004
Snippets
-- I finished Under the Banner of Heaven this morning. A chilling and very interesting book. Much bigger than just the investigation of a crime. It becomes an investigation of the nature of faith itself. No wonder the Mormon Church had a freak-out about it. Kraukauer interviews one Mormon man who had been a polygamist fundamentalist and eventually became an atheist because of one geology class he took. His story stunned me. He's a very likable man, very interested in finding the truth - not something handed down to him, but his own truth. Some people can reconcile easily their faith and the unhelpful facts of reality. I can do so. It's faith. I don't need proof. Proof seems like a stupid thing to ask for, anyway, in my humble opinion. I'm all about the mystery, and I don't have a literal faith. My faith has nothing to do with a literal interpretations of things. But I wasn't raised in a fundamentalist right-or-wrong black-and-white atmosphere. The Mormon man who had to leave his faith because he realized he had been lied to by his church about the age of the earth made an enormous impression on me.
-- Tonight, the Empire State Building will dim its lights for 15 minutes, in honor of the passing of Ms. Fay Wray. Pretty cool, huh?
-- I've been very busy. Crossing things off a To-Do list, things I have procrastinated. It's a good feeling.
-- Overheard on the street. A grumpy guy said to his girlfriend, "You can't even get a decent hangover with that girlie rosé." Ha! I couldn't agree more.
July 19, 2004
Miscellania
-- I am dying to see Door in the Floor. Jeff Bridges is (and has been for a long time) my favorite actor working today. Can't get any better than Bridges at this silly job called acting. Can't wait.
-- Still haven't seen the Metallica movie. I think I'm going tomorrow with Blind Cave Fish, which is going to ROCK.
-- Finally reading Victor Davis Hanson's Carnage and Culture. Can't read too much of it once, because it all starts to blend together in my mind - but it's good stuff. I am in awe of how he can make battles in antiquity seem like they happened yesterday.
-- I've rented Indiscreet (directed by Stanley Donen, starring Cary Grant and Ingrid Bregman) and also Public Enemy to watch over the next couple of days. Seeing all of these old movies has (for the moment) ruined my taste for "modern" movies.
-- In a ghoulish craning-the-neck-at-a-traffic-accident kind of way, I absolutely LOVED the pictures of Courtney Love manacled to a stretcher, wearing a white slip, being dragged off to Bellevue on her 40th birthday. It seems like it should be a piece of performance art, only it's not. It's real. I wish the best for poor little Frances. I can't imagine what that little girl's life is (and has been) like.
-- Had a great night in Rhode Island out on "Beth's deck" with the high school crowd: Beth, Mere (Green Belt Mere) and Betsy. Beth and her family are now moving - so we had to say good-bye to that deck - the famous deck - where we all convene as often as we are able! We drank wine, we ate chips, we blabbed our heads off with the dark and cloudy night sky above us. A wonderful farewell.
May 11, 2004
Mish-Mash
I feel a bit foggy today - Last night (or way early this morning) I was woken up by a shattering thunderstorm that felt like it was coming right through my windows. Lighting and thunder happening simultaneously - enormous crashes - enormous flashes - I cringed in my bed, loving every single second of it. But I woke up, for some reason, in this vague fog.
I have a lot of personal work to do. I am percolating, I guess you could say. Sometimes before I actually get down to some serious work, I have a period of rather vague behavior. I wander about my apartment. I cook an enormous amount of food and box everything up neatly in Tupperware. I did that last night at around 11, 11:30. I was cooking like a mad-woman at 11:30. I re-arrange the medicine cabinet. I watch my Eddie Izzard tape for the 20th time. All very vague with no discernible pattern.
I've come to recognize it now.
It's actually NOT vague, all evidence to the contrary.
What is it, then?
It's me getting ready to get down to work. It's like a cat circling and circling and circling and circling in the same spot, before curling up and going to sleep.
So what's on my mind right now? A mish-mash.
-- My brother.
-- My deadline. Internal and external. Clock ticking away.
-- Going to Princeton tomorrow night. Making train arrangements. A friend of mine is playing Eliza Doolittle in "My Fair Lady" at the McCarter Theatre, and tomorrow is "press night".
-- Rasputin is on my mind. What is the DEAL with Rasputin???
-- I need to get another book shelf. I am already overflowing.
-- I need to buy a set of wine glasses.
-- I'm hosting Girl Group on Friday night. (Girl Group: 8 women, all of us dear friends, get together once a month. Rotating apartments.) It will be my first hostess moment in the new digs. Must cook. Must prepare. Do not know when I will find the time.
-- For the past 6 days, my radio alarm clock has woken me up with Sheryl Crow's new song "The First Cut is the Deepest". Literally - every single morning. It's been like Groundhog Day.
-- The song touches me so much (and also there's the weirdness of being bombarded with it every day - and I had never heard it before either) - that I went out and bought the CD. Cat Stevens wrote the song. (Isn't his name something like Krishnamurti now?) My jaw dropped. No wonder it touches me. Great song.
-- I need to get more plants. I want my apartment to overflow with green.
-- I have booby-trapped my entire apartment with positive energy. Everywhere I look is something beloved and something personal. It gives my apartment a little bit of a "wow, a really crazy person lives here" vibe, but that's okay with me.
-- I need to read Franny and Zooey again. It's time. But something in me resists. It's a radical book.
-- I glance at the newspapers fearfully as I walk to work. I don't want to talk about that.
-- I want to do another Commonplace Book day on my blog. You people are all just the best, for reading all that stuff, and commenting.
-- I really MUST get down to some real work.
March 8, 2004
Snapshots
-- Huge full moon over the ocean. Massive swells coming onto the rocks. Silver moon-path trembling in the water.
-- Talking with my dad in the living room about all kinds of topics. I came into the room at one point, and Victor Davis Hanson was on Book TV, being interviewed, and I bombarded my dad with an embarrassing amount of biographical information about Hanson. I knew WAY too much about him.
-- Grey and brown landscape. A snow-chill in the air.
-- Sitting in the kitchen with my mom, watching the birds have a feast at the bird feeder. I could sit there and watch them all day. The nuthatch walking head-first down the tree trunk. Their little bird eyeballs staring in the kitchen window at us as they peck for their food. The shy ground-feeding cardinal, holding back in a nearby bush, waiting until the coast was clear. My mother said, at one point, "See the cardinal? He's waiting." I looked out the window. Couldn't see him. Everything brown, dried up, wintry. My mother said, "He's in that bush by the path..." I leaned forward 2 more inches, and boom - there he was. Fire-engine red, chubby, sitting in the middle of a bare brown bush, strategizing his move to the bird feeder. A blazing red flash of color, like a flag in the middle of the dullness.
-- Moonlight so bright that the trees cast shadows on the lawn. You could have read by the light of the moon.
-- Stopped off at the local 2nd hand bookstore, one of my normal pitstops. Found a tiny battered Book of Common Prayer, (an old one, not revised into modern PC language) - with someone's notes in the margins. Also, my favorite part, there were three silk ribbons, used as bookmarks, attached to the spine of the book. At the bottom of each of the ribbons was a small metal charm - one was a heart, one a cross, and one an anchor. Faith, Hope, Charity. This purchase was 3 bucks, but I considered it a small treasure.
-- My mother and I went to watch my sister teach a class. Jean teaches at a middle school. She is known as "Miss O'Malley". My mother and I sat in the back, and watched my sister teach. They were learning about topic sentences, and constructing papers. They are junior high kids. Everyone has braces. The main thing I noticed was the boys: some boys are like little Hobbits, 3 feet tall, with small squeaky voices. They are still little boys. Other boys are big tall strapping 5'9 figures, with deep voices. And yet, inside, they are only 12 years old. The horrors of adolescence. But I was very moved, sitting in the back, watching all these kids listening to my sister, turning around to smile shyly at us in the back on occasion. Hands up in the air, little voices saying, "Oh! Oh! Miss O'Malley!" Heartcrack. Very proud of my sister. She's a born teacher. They all seemed like very good kids, too. When my mother and I walked in, "Miss O'Malley" introduced us, and literally, they all waved, smiled, and said, "Hi!" I could write a whole post about watching my sister teach.
-- Evening spent with "Miss O'Malley". We went to the Bon Vue. (Or, as it is known to the college kids who frequent the joint: "The Bon Zoo".) A big rambling bar, right on the beach. Because it's spring break, and I live in a university town, the "Zoo" was dead. Nobody was there. Jean and I had a great night. Talking, talking, talking, talking. It was wonderful. And we also sweet-talked the "DJ" (although he balked at that title) to play exactly what we told him to. I gave him a list, ticking it off my fingers, and he nodded, shortly, after each request. "Eminem. Nirvana. Metallica. Foo Fighters." Jean chimed in: "Craig David." For the rest of the night, we had our own personal Music Manager. As we talked about everything under the sun.
-- I slept until 11:30. This is positively unheard of behavior.
-- I did not emerge from my pajamas that first day until 2 pm.
-- Evening gathering at my friend Mere's house. The high school gang. Wine. Sushi. Calzones. Wheat Thins. What more can one ask. Mere, Betsy, Beth, and Michele. We sat in Mere's living room, we drank, we ate. At one point (guys, if you're reading this, it's the "Bone and Cave" moment) I was literally choking with laughter, tears on my face. I was still laughing about "Bone and Cave" the next morning. Don't know if I can really describe the joke - but trust me - we all LOST it. We had all wanted to get together because of the recent unthinkable tragedy of our friend Glenda. Some of us knew her, some of us did not, Michele knew her better than all of us ... but when something as awful as that happens, it is a shock of reality. We wanted to be together. I have the best friends in the world.
-- Morning with the parents. Watching the birds. Endless fascination.
-- Drove down to the infamous Ocean Mist, where Jean ("Miss O'Malley") was working. The rickety shack bar on stilts, leaning into the ocean. A beach hang-out. Everyone goes there for brunch on Sunday mornings. Standing on the windy deck, holding Bloody Marys, (garnished with huge celery stalks and a shrimp) looking out at the ocean, the waves rolling right beneath the deck. As I walked down the street to get to "the Mist", I actually could feel the pounding of the surf in the ground (like that scene in Jurassic Park, when they can feel the T-Rex coming.) I could feel the impact of the ocean in the earth.
-- I slept like a rock my entire time home. 8 or 9 hours a night. Unheard of.
-- Sad news: Bess Eaton Coffee (the best coffee in the world - don't argue with me - I don't want to hear it) has been bought out by Dunkin Donuts. This is a tragedy. I hate it when that happens. I need to stock up on Bess Eaton coffee for the inevitable day.
-- I managed to find the time to curl up in an armchair for a good hour or so and just read. Asked my mom questions about her visit to Monticello, because I remembered her raving about it to me.
-- Just want to say this right here and now: My friends are the best. I thank God for them every day. My family is the best, too. I thank God for them every day.
My thoughts and prayers are with the parents of my childhood friend Glenda, who must be experiencing a horror right now I cannot imagine. I am a lucky woman. I would say that I was blessed.