Tuesday, December 16, 2014

Bust a movie.

Because I work from home, I occasionally see movies during the day.  No lie--it's awesome.  Especially since I loathe crowded movies with a white-hot passion.  Or whatever the opposite of white-hot passion is.  Cold dark loathing?

Here are 4 movies I saw recently:

This was kinda meh but I relate to the subject matter so I had to take a looksie.  It did make me cry, so maybe that means I liked it?  Whatev, I cry easily in movies.

The Way He Looks.
Very touching, delicate, coming-of-gay film.  Not enough nudity nor sex for moi, however.

Antarctica: A Year on Ice.
I was smitten by this, so much so that I came home & googled "jobs in Antarctica."  Don't freak, Shelley...I'm not going.  My love for it truly confused me b/c I HATE SNOW.  Did I ever tell you about when I FELL DOWN 3X IN THE SNOW IN BUDAPEST and also when IT WAS SNOWING SIDEWAYS INTO MY GLASSES?  WHAT KIND OF FRESH, FEROCIOUS HELL IS THAT?  THE KIND I DON'T ACTUALLY WANT TO LIVE IN, WTF.

Touch the Wall.

On Hello and Good Buck, reaching.

Next week: Xmas with Shelley.

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

Post-Thanksgiving thankfulness.

Things I am thankful for, in no particular order:

Homemade lattes.  It took me an embarrassing amount of time to figure this thing out, but I think I've mastered it.

Vivian turned 103 and still has her marbles.

The commenters on Jezebel. They make me laugh out loud, every day.

My new adirondack bench.  Not that I can sit on it much lately (p.s., BRING BACK THE DROUGHT).

A new birdhouse.  Do they like it?  I dunno yet.

Gilmore Girls (I know).

Junot Diaz.  Hasn't done me wrong once.

Ghiradelli Sea Salt Soiree squares.  Not that I always have them with shiraz...but I like that it's an option.

On Hello and Good Buck: marble, deconstructed.

Next week: my 25-point system.

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Rise and shrine.

I have dreams where my dad isn't really dead.

The latest one involved my mom telling me he was being held, alive, at a "3rd party hospital."


"I can't tell you that right now, Holly.  It's a Shriner's hospital.  You have to sign this first."

She hands me legal paperwork; I flip to the back page and my mom & sister have already signed it.  My sister says something to me, I tell her to Shut Up.

We're all sitting on my dad's empty, tousled hospice bed.

"WHY," I say.

My mom hands me a glossy brochure, a photo collage of a beautiful, rustic, cabin setting--the kind that do-it-yourself brides get married in.  Dad and Mom, looking younger and healthier, are holding hands and hiking in one of the photos.


"January 10th," Mom said.  "Your father wants this to be the place where it happens.  So when it's time, we'll all go there."


I get the feeling she doesn't want me to know, or to go on my own.  That if I go, he'll wake up--& all these best laid plans will be off.

"Just sign the papers."

[I wake up, thinking about how I'm going to a Shriner's hospital in Arizona or wherever the f*ck to see him; I think about the long day ahead.  But he's alive.  Which means that even if he's unconscious when I get there, he could wake up.  I'm convinced this will happen.  I wonder what I'll say, what music I'll play, to get him to wake up.  And then I remember the ashes.

I guess if my dad can fit into a box the size of my coffee maker, he's really gone?.]

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Monday, October 13, 2014


I am back from NY & these were the highlights.  Caution: CAPS AHEAD.

Winning a box of ziti on the Sopranos bus tour.
I won this ziti BECAUSE I AM A WINNER.  I also met Vito, who was kind but brusque and complained about the NY traffic.  But back to me and winning the ziti.  The tour guide went: "Who said, 'So no fucking ziti now?'"  IT WAS ANTHONY JUNIOR AND HE SAID IT IN THE PILOT EPISODE AND I AM A WINNER GIVE ME MY ZITI.  And then we went to the Bada Bing (Satin Dolls) and the strippers were there and the music was horrible.  WHY DON'T STRIP CLUBS PLAY TOM WAITS.

The Arabic exhibit at the New Museum.
This was amazing and moving; I went here before going to the 911 museum which btw was TOO MUCH EMOTION FOR ONE DAY.

Chick Corea's percussionist (Luisito Quintero) at Blue Note.
I learned so much.  He percussed with a PLASTIC TUBE.  I was in the heavens.  The heavens sounded like a PLASTIC TUBE.

The "I Hear Banjos" cocktail at Wayland.
It came with a head of CAMPFIRE SMOKE, WHUT.

Ukrainian food at Veselka.
I impressed the cooks b/c I CAN PUT IT AWAY.  I had the MEAT PLATE and ATE ALL OF THE MEATS.

The Bird Man, Washington Square Park.
He (on the right) gave me birdseed so they would come to me too.  They shit on me.  BUT IT'S GOOD LUCK, HI.  They were standing on my head, my shoulders, my hands, my camera, my lap.  I loved it.  It reminded me of one of my favorite pictures of my dad, where he's feeding pigeons in his hands, in Hawaii.  And he's looking down at them with such love and giddiness that I CAN'T LOOK AT IT.

On Hello and Good Buck: beautiful TRASH.

Next week: a kidney adventure.