‘she’s doing a woman’s hardest job: juggling wolves’

i have this old hardback book. its rusty purple, and on the spine in red, shiny letters, it reads, “Alfred Hithcock presents Stories to Red with the Lights on.” the pages are frayed and the book opens boldly to the middle, where the pages have pulled apart from the binding. im not sure where the book came from. obviously some second-hand shop, as the front holds a library ‘date due’ folder dating from september 29 to december 18. four months of alfred, being read in ouachita parish high school, louisiana.

i used to read it aloud. even though i don’t have a good reading voice. not by myself, of course. i like to feel the purple canvas , i like that the front has alfred’s signature in bright, metallic purple.

…the reason i  bring this up, is because 1. the book is sitting in front of me and 2. i had a sudden craving today to watch ‘rear window.’ one of the finest movies, in my opinion. so i am. and i wanted to state that i adore jimmy steward’s character, jeff. the photographer. he is nosy, stubborn, honest, someone that i could fight with.

and lisa. grace kelly. obviously. stunning.

one of my favorite parts just occurred. the beginning scene with lisa and jimmy is timeless… lisa walks into jeff’s apartment. he is asleep. in between kissing him, she asks,

lisa: how’s your leg?

jeff: hurts a little.

lisa: your stomach?

jeff: empty as a football.

lisa: and your love life?

jeff: not too active.

lisa: anything else bothering you?

Jeff: uh huh… who are you?

charming.

later they have this harsh argument. are mean. and endearing. i love it.

i should stop. watch it.

lisa: i wish i were creative

jeff: you are. you’re great at creating difficult situations.

square & compass.

i have four finals in the next two days. regardless. my current priority is researching the secret society freemasons and trying to figure out how i can become a member. even though i’m a girl.

featured on national geographic and the history channel.

they have words, gestures, and handshakes to enter meetings. so cool. i want in.

p.s. did i mention that nat king cole, mozart, marc chagall, winston churchill, king edward vii and viii, mark twain, and meriwether lewis were among the many notable members?

Bingo Promotes Good Hygiene.

Today was bingo round two. I’m not going to lie, I was quite anxious to return to the gang. I brought my sensitive friend Arielle. If I was going to be ostracized, so was she.

Yet, pleasantly, the sight of me holding those cards in the air did not appall this week’s crew.

The troops were consequently nicer after spying the prize basket. This week, recent additions were made to the monotonous bags of cheetos and miniature almond joys. Included in the basket’s exclusives: a Kansas University alumni calendar, a packet of stationary, and my personal favorite…a travel-sized tube of polygrip denture paste. Surprisingly, no one was interested in hygienically beneficial trophies.

Before the game, a man entered the dining room, decked in his cardigan (complete with elbow patches). Unfortunately he wasn’t interested in number amusements. He went in the back and a nurse brought him cookies and black coffee. He observed our tournament, and I regarded him. I envied the open seat to his left, wishing to sit at his table and drink coffee with his lovely face. I think he noticed my staring, at one point, after calling B 9, he pronounced from the back of the room, “B Mine!” Arielle and I giggled like two blushing little girls.

Perhaps one day he will be my friend.

Although I would rather read books, play cards, smoke cigars, and drink scotch with an old fellow… for now I’m still simply the Thursday afternoon bingo girl.

(p.s. Next week I’m bringing individual christmas gifts. I will win them over…whether they like it or not).

“I don’t think you should feel about a film. You should feel about a woman, not a movie. You can’t kiss a movie” jean-luc

Your true traveler finds boredom rather agreeable than painful. It is the symbol of his liberty-his excessive freedom. He accepts his boredom, when it comes, not merely philosophically, but almost with pleasure.” – Aldous Huxley

IN FRENCH this week we watched this documentary ‘les glaneurs et la glaneuse.’ although it didn’t exactly satisfy my inclinations for impressionable cinematography, it did make me miss la culture française. sneaking into vineyards, eating figs from the trees, wine in the afternoon. i left with an open wound, yet my curiosity for french film perked.

Agnès Varda, the director and writer of Les Glaneurs, is known as the ‘grandmother of La Nouvelle Vague.’  (The New Wave,  referring to the French filmmakers of the late 1950′s-60′s.) The films of this era rest beautifully among European art cinema. The most famous directors being jean-luc godard (accompanied by the lovely anna karina) francois truffaut, and claude chabrol. plurality of the films are poetic, romantic, pretentious, and/or crime thrillers…what more could you want?

during my free time i am committed to watching the films. among the glorious:

-le beau serge (1958)

-ascenseur pour l’échafaud (1958)

-les bonnes femmes (1960)

-a bout de souffle (1959)

-jules et jim (1962)

-vivre sa vie (1962)

-un homme et une femme (1966)

“if i get married, i want to be very married” hepburn.

i want to be proposed to with this:

a 1890′s turquoise and rose cut diamond ring. 18k. found here.

“bingo, that’s a goodie!”

today was day 1 of my career as a bingo call girl.

i walked into pioneer ridge this afternoon, meet the director, cindy, and follow her into the dining hal. she lead me to a table in the front of the room. “here are the things you’ll need. have fun!”

and out she walked.

i looked up, 17, unhappy, droopy eyes vacantly watching me. no smiles. no enthusiasm. starring contest.

me: “okay. so, is everyone ready to play?”

crowd: “we can’t hear you.”

me: “are you ready to start?”

crowd:  ——

this pleasant conversation continued throughout.

according to popular belief, i basically ran the whole bingo operation incorrectly. called the game wrong, held the cards wrong, forgot to put up the ‘example card’ (forgot? why didn’t anyone instruct me?) there was debate regarding all aspects of this monotonous game. this dull competition.

finally, i hear a blunt, “bingo!” carry the basket of candy over to her table.

me: (I 39? right…didn’t call that. N 14? wrong again.) “okay, choose a prize.”

her: “i want a diet coke.”

how could you ever tell a grandma she didn’t actually win bingo?

Between every game there was much confusion. do we clear our cards? what type of bingo are we playing next? what the hell does 4 corners mean?

they watched me very closely. suspicious little ones.

(at one point i heard this little lady say “and after!”…later i realized she said this every time i said “B4″ before and after. more clever than i)

an hour passed, and the last bingo was called. as i was was walking past a table a lady pointed to her card and said something along the lines of, “i have a bingo”

he card was even full.

me: “you have a blackout?” (if we are going to pretend, at least put the chips on the card)

her: (starring at me with skinny, pencil eyebrows and lipstick cheeks)

me: “here, pick a prize”

about to cry (literally) i went around to the tables to gather cards and chips. the clan scattered. i approached a table of stragglers.

me: (please don’t be mean)

precious man: (without looking up) “you did a good job hun. thank you very much.”

precious woman: “yes dear, thank you”

precious woman #2: “you are just too sweet to do this”

the director came back. finally. she asked if i would ever come back. “they hate it when someone calls other than me.”

oh. really?

shirts tucked in and drinks with gin and living on the run.

crossroads district. first fridays. and my ode to kansas city.

friday night we went to downtown.

i’m very fond of kansas city. i hope to one day live in the top of my dad’s building on grand blvd. i want to be downtown.

the galleries were divine. tall ceilings. brick walls. magnificent windows.

yet. it made me miss painting considerably.

pretty neat. you should go.

what is Real?

“what is REAL?” asked the rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side…”Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.

“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”

“Does it happen all at one, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse.  “You become.  It takes a long time.  That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept.  Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby.  But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

 

“Hello, Pete Mitchell. I heard the best of the best were going to be back here”

panda bear and kelly mcgillis make a great pair. top gun meets the forest.

although. at the first party we attended, low and behold, in walked pete mitchell, the infamous maverick, flying solo. i was standing in the kitchen when i heard my favorite song,  ”you’ve lost that lovin’ feeling.” quite ironic.

I would rather sit on a pumpkin and have it all to myself than be crowded on a velvet cushion.Henry David Thoreau.

happy halloween.