29 October 2010
28 October 2010
Some days I want more, some days I want less. I brought home a spangled, bugle-beaded star from work last night; it's beautifully useless, and I needed it so. I don't like objects which fake at their utility. Be useful, or be beautiful. If you are useful, have clean lines and a thoughtful economy. If you are beautiful, be so. Absurd dictates fly out the window regarding the animated world: people and animals may be exactly as they please.
27 October 2010
If you were here, we'd sneak into a corner and have a drink, and I'd tell you the truth. But you're not here, and I'm not sure I can be beautiful and direct here. Last night, though, on my walk home? If I ran into you then, I'd tell the truth.
26 October 2010
Emotion is hanging out in my fingertips this morning. But! L.D. is back from India today, with her heroine charm, her New York dollishness, and my diamond evil eye rings, which can be your diamond evil eye rings. Details soon.
25 October 2010
I'm not sure what I want to say this morning, but I want us to share: Camille, Cleo from 5 to 7, Contempt, The Thin Man, Eva, Annie, Morocco, Pépé le Moko, Mississippi Mermaid, The Sandpiper, My Man Godfrey, Nights of Cabiria, Jazz on a Summer's Day, Bay of Angels, Wild Strawberries, The Magus, Daisies, Loves of a Blonde, Stealing Beauty, Don't Look Now, Don't Look Back, Shadows, The Philadelphia Story, just a few, some fizzy bubbles. Don't forget what I didn't say. Next time, the people, a list. To begin: Lombard, Losey, Bergman, Von Sternberg, Tati, etc, etc, etc.
22 October 2010
21 October 2010
20 October 2010
19 October 2010
The truly exorbitant creativity and vanguard visuals of the early Silly Symphonies is mind-boggling. See here, the anthropomorphizing and transmogrification of a small patch of forest. In just shy of 8 minutes: love, jealousy, community, creation, rage, destruction, rebirth, commitment.
Disney's first Technicolor animation, Flowers & Trees 1932, via Sea of Shoes, earlier Silly Symphonies post here
18 October 2010
Though I'm late for a train at Pennsylvania Station I run to a news stand. Girl behind the counter looks at my Vanity Fair, confused. "Ma'am," she says, pointing at the cover, "who's that, ma'am?" "Marilyn Monroe," I say. "Ma'am," says she, "is she dead, ma'am?" "Yes," says I, "she's dead." "How," she asks, "an accident?" "Yes," I answer, "a suicide."
Her eyes widen. She looks at the beautiful woman on the cover of the magazine, looks at me, late for my train. "But why, Ma'am? Why she kill herself, ma'am?" I wanted to take her for a coffee, talk to her about the price of privilege and unassailable loneliness, but I was late for my train, so all I could say was, "Read the article!"
And the curtain rises.
15 October 2010
There is one secret stress in my shabby closet, the one I think of as my eyes fall at night, and open in the morning, a secret stress I am sure I share with many of you, though not all of you. I will walk briskly this morning, write hard this weekend, push it from the forefront, and one day secret stress will wither and die. Do you have a secret stress?
14 October 2010
I've been learning lately that death is a quotidian waltz. I am attending a funeral today for a relation I haven't seen in years. I will say goodbye to him, to his mother who I will likely never see again, to his sisters who I might only see on a Manhattan street, to my family when I was a child. Would they know me in a crowd at dusk? Were I still ten years old, yes. I will tell them I am getting married, I will think of my grandmother in her arm chair, my grandfather living only to say the blessing over the challah, the house we all once lived in, the desk, the paintings, our cat who has gone. I will think of my dog, my cat, the man who will be my husband, our apartment, the family we will have, and I will never understand that he will never know what made me before I was the person he loved.
13 October 2010
12 October 2010
House sitting for David and Carla Cohen allowed me to pour over their bookshelves, an extension of the passion that I was blessed to be bathed in during my tenure at Politics & Prose. Beyond the bookshelves, there was the garden, the kitchen, the sofas worn with love, the beating presence of family. Carla showed me such great kindness while I knew her, despite her frustration with my rejection of a book or two she pressed into my hands. I've since read them all, including her favorite, Angle of Repose. Carla is one of the great forces in my life; I wish I had written the letter I meant to send, telling her so.
11 October 2010
Yesterday, I fell in love with a glimmering envelope of a dress. Too soon, though. On the one hand, the weekend was fraught. On the other, we had champagne at the Plaza.
08 October 2010
07 October 2010
Like Sleeping Beauty's castle, they say, where an early Mickey Mouse, a calling card, billet-doux lay in wait, under a half-century's dust.
And Boldini? His women, they smile.
06 October 2010
05 October 2010
Plucked The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie from R's shelf- inscribed to her from G., our favorite Australian. Have I, or have I not, gone to visit Miss Muriel Spark in Rome?