Graham & I Review the Crocodile Tears show at Giant Robot NY...

Me: I really like Martha Rich and Jen Corace. There's just something about their work that I love. It's funny though, seeing all that work together. It's definitely representative of all the "hip" illustration and art out there and there's something about it all that reminds me of being a kid. Or like the drawings and world I grew up in as a kid. Yet, I'm not sure it's all sincere. It feels like it's busy being ironic or precious.

Graham: Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. I really liked that one guy's work--I thought it was beautiful, and then I look closer and I see that the figure is holding...nunchucks.

Me: Exactly.

Ways to Keep Cool in New York: Central Park

Where is this? Vermont? Western Massachusetts? The Catskills? Nope, it's in the heart of New York City! One of my favorite places in the whole wide world is this incredible oasis of greenery smack dab in the middle of an otherwise relentless concrete jungle. The first year and a half I lived here, Graham and I would force ourselves up and out the door early on Sunday mornings for coffee and long leisurely walks in Central Park. Our point was that the park was its most peaceful and the crowds were at a minimum. Like so much else that takes a little work and yet is a pleasurable practice, we let this go by the wayside. It's a haul for us: 45 minutes on the subway and we got used to sleeping in or thinking we were too busy. This weekend, we had a spontaneous desire to get up and go and man, oh man, am I glad.

Here's some reasons why:


Nature, the breath of trees, the temperature being a bit cooler among the green, the sound of cicadas and birds wafting up in the air, and the relative quiet. Maybe because I grew up in California, where the summer is so dry, I can never get enough of the GREEN GREEN of the East. Before moving to New York, I would have called myself an agnostic naturalist, meaning that while I loved nature and felt good in it, I did not feel the need to be in it all the time. I felt comfortable being in an urban area, with connections to nature. New York has brought out the HUNGER and THIRST for the calm of nature. Whenever I go to places like Vermont or the Northwest, I just want to LIE DOWN and consume it all. The extreme urbanism of New York has made me more in touch with my love and need for the peace and beauty of nature. Central Park is like a hit of that and thank the SWEET STARS FOR IT. We literally just sat down on one of the paths in the shade and drank coffee, listening to...nothing. Honestly I think this park gives the city humanity. It's like a living, breathing pulse of this city. It calms it down.

Then there's just the magic of it. Call it what you will, I feel something deep in my blood when I enter this park. It's an inspiring place to me filled with magic and history. I walked around with my cup filling and filling.

And where else can you go to sit in the shade and listen to a man play "Que Sera Que Sera" on the accordion, while you watch the clean white sails of toy boats? Incidentally, all the boats that were being driven by remote control were run by middle aged men in khaki shorts and boating shirts. There wasn't a child among them. It cracked us up.

We've been here in the dead of winter, when it was so cold that there was nothing but the sound of the branches creaking in the wind. We've seen a hawk eat a squirrel in park branches. I've laid on the grass and stared at fireflies glinting in the distance. On our way in, we discovered buildings that were built just for musicians and artists, so each apartment is sound proof. We saw funny dogs make their serious owners look silly. Our little jaunt made us want to recommit to our weekly sojourn because the thing about the park for us is that it reminds us what we love, not just about this place, but life in general. Although we've been having a tough time of money lately, we felt so rich.

Searching for Jane Apatow

This weekend, G. and I went to go see Step Brothers, the new Will Ferrel and John C. Reilley vehicle. During the previews (often my favorite part of seeing movies), we saw the preview for Pineapple Express, the latest from the Judd Apatow camp, and which the entire audience reacted by leaning forward and declaring, “YES.” Then, we sat back and watched Step Brothers, a film co-written and produced by Judd Apatow and dealing with what he does best: men that refuse to grow up. Afterwards, I was walking home with Graham and I said, “You know what, that was funny and all, but I think it’s happened: I am done. It’s time for these dudes to grow up already!”

I am going to out myself right now and say that I generally have loved Apatow created and directed projects. Freaks and Geeks remains one of my favorite television shows ever. The 40 Year Old Virgin is up there as one of my favorite comedies. I saw Knocked Up TWICE in the theater, I enjoyed it so much. Where I started to peel off the Apatow train was Superbad. I think I am among a tiny minority who didn’t think Superbad was the best thing ever. When it comes up, I pretty much feel like the biggest killjoy when I explain that while there were moments I laughed and enjoyed myself, there came a point that I felt entirely alienated by it and resentful of its pornographic humor towards women. Granted, Superbad was not made for me—AT ALL. It was made for teenage boys, both the present kind and the inner kind. Graham loved it and even felt TOUCHED by it. I felt slimed. And seeing the glow on my husband’s face after seeing this film, I can’t help thinking, where is MY Superbad?

This is my question: where is the female equivalent to Judd Apatow? In a period of time where we are inundated with Judd Apatow comedies, which are the same premise over and over again: how can we get this man-child to grow up, where is a smart girl of any age to go for a comedy that echoes her experience and doesn’t shove penis jokes down her throat?

I didn’t see Baby Mama, and I'm not entirely convinced I should. Sex and The City, a tv show that I found gutsy, humorous, and honest, made a movie that took all its best qualities and drowned them with all its worst qualities—shallow commercialism and financial gluttony. I also didn’t think Juno was the end all be all. This review pretty much sums up how I felt about it EXACTLY (link via AMS). It’s pretty good, but cloyingly precocious and just a little too self conscious for its own good. Yet, I’ll take Juno over The House Bunny, a preview we saw, where a former Playboy Bunny becomes a sorority house mother to the biggest losers on campus. When I say “losers,” I mean frumpy clothed smart girls, which include a pierced punk looking girl, a girl that wears sweats, but is generally pretty and totally obsessed with a jock. This new sorority mother helps these girls out by giving them all makeovers---so that they become (as they say in the preview) “Who they really are.” Do I need to tell you that who they really are are heavily made up playboy bunny-like women, with smarts? They, in turn, teach the former bunny to be smart. My thoughts as I watched this preview unfold were, “Feminism is rolling in its grave.”

I think about my baby sister Lily, my teenage cousins (Hi gals!), or even Apatow’s two daughters, who are the next generation of women growing up in a throw back culture that tells them that they have nothing but heightened sexuality and man-children to look forward to. Then again, my favorite movie at 17 was Pretty Woman, a film that glamorized prostitution, and equated being saved with not just financial security, but dripping wealth. I literally told someone that I thought it was “Inspiring.” Of course, Pretty Woman was high class compared to the Porky’s dynasty and movies like Bachelor Party and Revenge of The Nerds, which were the big comedies of the time and were based on a foundation of tits, ass, and getting laid. Despite this, I still grew up to be a feminist and to believe that the female story is not only worthwhile, but funny, so maybe I shouldn’t be so worried. And maybe that’s not even the point. As an audience member, I am just getting sick of the same punch line. After I watched Step Brothers, I couldn’t help think that he is taking the penis joke and giving it yet another renaissance. I mean, who thought the penis needed it? Yet, there it is, rolling in it, kicking up its heels, and causing a stir. Who knew it still had SO MUCH comedic leverage?

I want a movie that makes me holler in incredulity, in recognition, and in rollicking laughter. I want a girl Superbad. Note to Hollywood: I am WAITING.

I Got a Haircut

Note to Sara and Brian: Are you TRYING to kill me?

Um, let me get my bearings for a second. I am trying desperately not to to LICK the screen. Let's just say I'm DROOLING. Let's just say my mouth runneth OVER.

Apparently, it's not SAFE to tread the unruly waters that is flickr, because as I so INNOCENTLY checked in on my friends' current updates, I came upon THIS and it was like a SUCKER PUNCH TO THE HEART. This, my friends, is my new pal Luke. Not to be confused with my brother (and old pal, as in nearly 8 years old) Luke. New pal Luke is the product of my two older pals Sara and Brian, who took this picture, who have not given me PERMISSION to post said picture (which will now be called HAPPINESS is a PAIR OF GUMS), and have every right to tell me to take down HAPPINESS is a PAIR of GUMS (trademark pending). But I could not resist. Where is my fainting couch when I need it? Where is MY teething RING?

I mean, how FRIGGN' CUTE is that? Can you see the amazingness that is the gum to tongue ratio? What are the mathematics of that? I am literally PARALYZED (except for my one index finger that is typing away this message) by the adorableness that is this picture. If anyone doesn't look at this picture and just say something along the lines of WHEEEEEEEEEEE or YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY, they don't have a heart.

Oy. I say, oy.

It's a good thing I live 3000 miles away. I might just have to HEAD OVER to chez Pitre, you know, and EAT their child. Yep, probably it's for the best.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to step away from the ledge. I somehow am filled with happiness and hope. I think I can go on. I think somehow life is worth living. Luke I raise my not-as-cute-as-your-fist fist and say YAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!

ps I highly recommend clicking on the picture for the ULTIMATE experience.

...and it's Tuesday

link it!

link it!

link it!

Nothing Says"Instant Blog Entry" Like a Big List of Complaints

Well, it's Monday morning and let's just say I am already losing my metaphorical shit. Oh, do I wish I was a beacon of hope and beautiful inspiration today, but I am SO FAR AWAY from anything resembling "hopeful" and "beautiful." I am just one big COMPLAINER. I know, I know--nothing says "read on" like COMPLAINING.

One big thorn in my side this a.m. is that my studio looks like a bomb went off in it and I can't even use it. What will now be called as the "Shelving Incident" happened yesterday, when I got all excited and decided to get some new shelves for a certain disastrous corner that needed some organizing. I got those baking rack shelves thinking they would be big enough for both storage and organizing. Well, it turn out they are TOO BIG to be any help. If I had nothing but giant boxes to store and not things like jars and boxes of painting supplies and other DAINTY art supplies they would be perfect. But alas, it just turned into a humongous bulky shelf space that only created MORE clutter. So, I had to disband and put it in the bedroom, where it is now a closet of sorts. But that leaves me with a non usable studio.

Also, it's been HOT. I mean, sticky, oozing, relentless hot for days now. "They" said the heat would let up by Saturday, and then it was Sunday, and I haven't even turned on the radio today because it's too dang HOT to move--and it's only 8:30 in the morning. I feel like the reclusive artist Henry Darger, who made it a point to listen to the weather man every day and MOCK him in his journals saying, WHAT DO YOU KNOW?

Then there's just the fact that I've got a bad case of Everybody-Has-IT-Except-Me disease. It might as well be called Temporary Insanity, because that's all it is, temporary and INSANE. Still, it SUCKS while you have it.

Also, I slept badly.

Also, I need a haircut.

Also, a book deal.

And while you're at it, a lobotomy.

Maybe I'll just go back to bed. At least there's an air conditioner in there. And my new shelves. Maybe then I'll get over my bad self and get some new shelves and carry on making sense of the chaos in my studio--which is just a room that acts as a vessel for the things in my mind.

Ways to Keep Cool In New York: Dinner at a friends' home

Menu: cold zucchini salad, monk fish in wine sauce, wild rice, bread, and Chinese melon for dessert. Lots of fans blowing, and lots of great talks about literature and favorite books. I love seeing people's faces when they talk about their favorite books! I should do a film or photo project of the way people react when they discuss the books that have moved them. Speaking of which, I just read Denis Johnson's Jesus' Son and was so moved by the writing I felt my head almost explode. I wish there was a picture of MY face as I told them about it last night.

perfect morning

Graham got up way early to go teach philosophy on Long Island, so I got up and made coffee on my own. I sat for two hours and wrote 1000 words on a short story, with a favorite book on my side. After a brief flurry of excitement, the cats placed themselves at my side and at my feet and we all hung out.

I could hear birds outside. The writing went well.


After awhile I got up and turned on some Ella and Louis. I downloaded a song I wanted to walk to this morning. I took a shower. I put on my favorite dress and then walked out into the world, which was sunny and soft.

After a brief subway ride, I walked by the east river, listening to the song I downloaded and thought, this is a good morning. A very good morning. A simple morning. A happy morning. A morning that is music and work going well and cats purring and a dress that blows in the wind. I'll take it, I thought. Thank you, I will.

Like Three Shots Echoing in the Still Night

I went away to an ashram for two days with one of my favorite friends in the whole wide world, Mindy. She came up from DC and before we caught a ride up to the Catskills for two days of serious yoga, meditations at dawn and Ayurveda food, we proceeded to a movie theater to watch Sex & the City. It seemed only too apt. I said to her that the only thing that would make this trip come full circle is if when we returned, we also ate a giant meal of steak and martinis.

When we got out of the movie theater we had exactly 10 minutes to catch the van with 8 ashram bound people, where we immediately had the most un-ashram conversation about a movie that is so dripping with commercialism and western gluttony that we whispered for the entire 2 hour trip.

There’s very few people I’d rather go to an ashram with and get my ass kicked by intense two hour yoga sessions than Mindy. Moreover, there’s VERY FEW people I’d rather be with than Mindy when I go to a yoga class that asks you to do a yoga headstand, a move that I’ve never done, and that is INTIMIDATING as all get out. Talk about a crash course in dealing with one's perfectionism: how about having the teacher come over to assist you, when you're having a huge case of the shyness, only to have three excellent farts come bellowing out of you as the teacher lets you down. Yep, that's right. They sounded like three shots echoing through a dark night, only it was broad daylight and there were people cultivating the SILENCE around you. When I told Graham later, after he recovered from being doubled over in laughter, he said, "I hardly think that's unusual." Considering that the diet was all good for you all the time with a side of beans, I could comfort myself that the ashram followers weren't thinking of me as the "Toot Girl." I was thinking of the guy next to me as THE BREATHER, but that's because I'm new to to the ashram and not as enlightened.

Later, Mindy took pictures of me practicing the headstand on my own in the grass with a wide berth of space for safety sake (hers). Thankfully she did not take pictures of me FALLING completely OVER, only the giggling afterwards:
I have to tell you that it was so wonderful being in the Catskills and waking up to a bell being rung every morning, and then doing two sessions of two hours of yoga a day. It was hard work and relaxing at the same time. Plus, in between yoga, eating, and sleeping, I got to have deep talks and crack up sessions with a friend that makes me want to grab a Bigwheel and head off into the world to kick ass and enjoy myself. Mindy, if you're reading this, you are MY PEOPLE. I adore you so much. Plus, next to my cat Kingsley, you are the DEEPEST sleeper I have ever met in my life:
Well, after three sessions of yoga, let's face it, you're just plumb tuckered out.

After Jury Duty What's A Girl to Do but Go to an Art Opening and Photograph Shoes?

The verdict is in--my jury service ruled. To celebrate and to be together before I go away on a yoga retreat, Graham and I went out to dinner and went to an opening of a show of photographer Terri Garland.

I finally replaced my camera and am learning how to use this new fangled thing with some panic and mixed results. I hope I don't break the thing with my impatience and homesickness for my old camera. Good thing I am going away to do yoga and meditate for 2 days. See you when I return.

30 Things I feel Oddly Passionate About

1. Making things like pie crust from scratch
2. I dislike digital coloring on comic strips
3. The 30’s as a better age than the 20’s
4. Driving across the US—everyone should do it.
5. Mickey Mouse ears should not have themes like "rasta mickey" or "pirate mickey"
6. We create what we believe
7. Buttermilk frosting on red velvet cake over cream cheese frosting
8. The right to 1/2 & 1/2 over milk any day
9. Making things by hand—or at least knowing how.
10. I hate all pre-shredded, packaged cheese
11. I hate fat free versions of naturally fat things like ice cream & cheese & half & half—just eat less of it. It’s better than eating a lot of the other crap—and it tastes better.
12. IBM typewriters have the most delicious textural sound. I could write on them all day.
13. David Gray’s A Century Ends over David Gray’s White Ladder
14. Reading Barbara Kingsolver’s the Bean Trees BEFORE you read Pigs in Heaven
15. Mixed Tapes are better than mixed CDs
16. I dislike using e-mail as way for resolving conflict—it’s a pussy way to do it & it takes longer. If you are close to someone, just call the person for Pete’s sake!
17. I believe that there should be an automatic service blocker on cell phones for every theater, museum, & library. I once saw Vanessa Redgrave give the DIRTIEST look from the stage at someone whose phone had gone off during a monologue.
18. Poetry sections being correctly alphabetized in large stores like Borders and Barnes and Noble. My dad calls this my “dormant OCD” behavior—I can’t go into those stores without checking the poetry sections, because they are usually disasters. I then alphabetize them. It’s a compulsion I can’t shake entirely.
19. The taste of blueberries & lime zest together
20. I hate the Oprah’s Book Club emblem printed on the covers of books.
21. This picture. (it KILLS ME)
22. Giving up your subway seat to people who need it
23. Giving panhandlers food not money
24. Coney Island in November
25. Yellowstone National Park is the most magical place EVER.
26. Elfquest before Marvel took it on
27. Fountain soda over canned or bottled soda
28. We should have a workday system that honors the natural rhythms of people. Some people work better in the early morning (like me), and some people are better in the afternoons and late at night (like so many people I know).
29. Butter over margarine
30. Part-time work is the key to life!

The Ballad of Blueberry & Lime Zest

Over Fourth of July Graham and I went over to my new friend Jenna's place for dinner. She provided the fried chicken, corn bread and salad. I provided the non-depressing, non-mayo potato salad and the dessert. What could be more American than a cobbler? Okay, pie. Okay, Apple Brown Betty. But a cobbler is easier than either of those guys and besides I could show off my recent discovery of the GENIUS that is lime zest and blueberries.

I got my recipe from the All New Joy of Cooking, the bible for basic cooking. It piped that blueberries and lime zest were made for each other, but I didn't get HOW made for each other until I took a bite. Now I feel like it's the unsung food combo of the century.

People, it's like chocolate and peanut butter. It's like oil and vinegar. It's like salt and lemon. It's like Donnie & Marie. Think of Tenacious D as the team, and Jack Black is the blueberry and Kyle as the lime zest. Sure the Blueberry has their own thing going on and lime zest kind of needs something other than itself in order to perform at its best, but they are FANTASTIC as a team. They make each other BETTER. They make each other into something so COMPLETE that if lime zest and blueberries had managers, I'd advise against solo gigs.

Ladies & gentleman, I give you the blueberry cobbler:

And they say that news and reporting is going downhill

Apparently, this is news:

Poll: Obama leads McCain among people who don't have pets.

I am getting CHILLS down my spine at the CUTTING EDGE and IN DEPTH reporting this story is getting to. CHILLS, people.

become the unicorn of your neighborhood

this has got to be my new favorite SPAM subject line.

Summer Reading (get it?)

I take summer reading very seriously. For the last number of years I have more or less been drawn to read mostly classic Southern writers every summer. It’s almost like a little literary alarm clock that goes off every spring. I can’t wait to dive in to some Flannery O’Connor (though when I do, she FREAKS ME OUT), Truman Capote, Carson McCullers, Eudora Welty, and Harper Lee. This year I was faced with Faulkner. I think that’s sounds like a book printed by Oxford University Press. Faced with Faulkner. Frankly, I just wasn’t ready for Faulkner. I tried reading Go Down Moses a number of years ago and it was like stirring molasses. I was sweating and winded by page three. Also, currently all the new copies of Faulkner have “Oprah’s Book Club” burned into to the covers like a brand or a scarlet letter. While I’d like to give it up to Oprah for getting people to READ, I have some issues with her name even mixing with such writers at Marquez and Faulkner. I mean, can’t you at least make it a STICKER that we can PULL OFF?

This isn’t to say that I won’t read Faulkner EVER. By golly, I WILL go down WITH Moses eventually. I swear to it! Just not this summer. Plus, as I’ve mentioned before, I have a tendency to take things WAY TOO SERIOUSLY (see commentary on Oprah above), and I was ready and willing to just enjoy myself.

Enter the Twilight Series by Stephenie Meyer.

My work pal Ben recommended this young adult series as a chaser to any serious reading overload. He had just finished the SCARY AS ALL GET OUT non-fiction masterpiece The Devil and the White City and was in need of something to CLEANSE the literary pallet. So his friends recommended these series and when he was done he recommended it to me with some qualifications. He warned me that they were written a little OVERLY dramatic. He cautioned that it was a TEENAGE romance series, but the twists and turns kept him coming back for more.

Boy was he right on all counts. In case you are not familiar with the Twilight Series it’s about a teenage girl who falls in love with a vampire. I’d say the conflict is pretty clear. The writing is like Sweet Valley High meets Anne Rice. Not my favorite kind of thing on either counts. Sometimes it’s SO Sweet Valley High, I have to let go of ANY standards and gloss over it. Then, just as I am about to GIVE UP, throw in the towel, some big giant scary even happens and I am GLUED to the page.

I’ll admit it—I think the main character Bella is annoying, kind of a humorless pill, and a classic co-dependent. Why the magical world of changelings is drawn to her is beyond me, but when it comes down to it, I can’t stop reading. Graham was teasing me that I went from reading a classic of American literature, The Great Gatsby, to vampire romance novels. I responded with, “Shhhhh! Don’t talk to me---Edward and Bella are in a fix!” Apparently, so am I. The fourth and final installment comes out in August. Oh man, am I holding my breath.

Reading About R. Crumb

Juryatrics

I went to Jury Duty yesterday and sat with about 150 put out people in a GIANT room outfitted with televisions. I am not sure why Jury Duty is considered nothing less than a SERIOUS PAIN IN THE B-HIND by all who receive its beckoning call, but it is. I felt that way too until I got there, and then I realized that the only thing that was bugging me was that I had to figure out a way to get there and I had to get up earlier. Once I discovered that it was a single bus ride and a two minute walk tops, I found the whole experience FASCINATING. Sure, it's a lot of waiting around, in a climate that is a little TENSE, but there was a little part of me that thrilled at being PART of something that keeps our society going, for better or for worse.

Oh yeah, and they showed us an instructional video complete with reenactments of the "trials" they did in medieval Europe and narration by Ed Bradley. It was AWESOME.

Sprouting from the homes of latter day counter cultural types, I come from a short line of people who have been fighting, questioning, two-stepping, coming to blows with, and losing to the law. Some of my people think its their DUTY to both participate in the system and well, for lack of a better term, fuck with the system. If you ever want to know the MANY ways you can avoid the draft, using a good dose of method acting and a jar of peanut butter, grab a cup of coffee at my childhood kitchen table. If you want to know the ins and outs of our criminal justice system, and how it does and DOESN'T work, I may know the phone numbers of a few people that have some (ahem) OPINIONS from PERSONAL EXPERIENCE. So you might just guess that it was interesting for me to actually be IN this system that has been such a colorful backdrop to so many events and campfire tales in my life.

I went in ready to be as discouraging as I needed to be in order to get out of doing any kind of court case, as a sort of knee jerk reaction. Then, as I sat there, going through the process of selection, I realized that if it came down to it, I'd want me as a juror in my case. I'm interested, I think of myself as pretty fair, and I care. So I got chosen. I got sworn in by a man who resembled Cedric The Entertainer and I am going to court next week and I am actually kind of looking forward to it.