secretions

"everything that man handles has a tendency to secrete meaning"
marcel duchamp.
so, i went to a book reading last week for the very talented molly mcnett. it was a revelation how great her book, "one dog happy" was. then i had to snooze through one of those award winning writers who reads his work as if he is chekhov, but i held out. shainberg came out and started reading. had no idea where he was going. midway thru his reading i remembered seeing the book in the library and pulling it out, only to put it back again. well, i picked it up again.
it is the best book about boogers ever written.
the inscription is to norman mailer.

i heart new york

on the subway today, i had a gentleman offer to f@#* me up the a##, AND suck my c#@*. he had the chivalry to make clucking noises through his proposal. tempting.

perspective

i'm not a huge fan, but this kinda puts things in perspective. hat tip to gw for the link.

i'm a little in love

with david mccullough. is that weird? don't judge me. this is his writing shed and he wears red suede pumas.

notes on a life

i have a hard time reading biographies and autobiographies. i always take them with a huge grain of sea salt. but seeing this book in the library and remembering how much i loved her documentary film on apocalypse now, i picked it up. yesterday. could not put it down. finished today, after many late hours of reading.
there is something so beautiful about her thoughts, written as if in a diary, which i suspect they were. big props to nan talese as an editor, i'm sure.
she is clearly the opposite of her husband. yet what made this so compelling was her realizations of life in a home dominated by such large personalities; a life that she would not have chosen, if it were not for marriage and children. her simple and exquisite realizations of family, responsibility, her waning creative voice, and grief are just perfectly tuned in this lovely memoir.
this is not a celebrity tell-all. it is a simple recollection of what it means to be a mother, a wife and an artist. in the background.

christmas eve.

i never win anything- lotto, raffles, cock fights, etc. you name it and i haven't won it. so i am loathe to make predictions. but win or lose today i feel part of something. i'm not deluded enough to think this is some second coming i've helped usher in. and i think the president elect is gonna be thrown into a shit storm. i agree and disagree with both candidates in how to deal with it. i've tried to remain balanced, especially toward the end of this historical and ugly election. but god if i haven't been tearing up every 20 minutes today...on my way to the polls, at the polls, watching a three minute clip of obama voting, watching him eulogize his grandmother, reading election voter updates on sully's blog...it's that elusive christmas eve feeling, the one that comes around midnight and makes you forget all the ugly shit you've had to go through to arrive at this night. christmas day always sucks, but christmas eve, oh how lovely.