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delicate little flowers

thoughts on pop culture, writing and life

April 19th, 2008

Sangria: Not Just For Breakfast Anymore @ 10:50 pm

Current Mood: mellow mellow
Current Music: Year of the Cat (Al Stewart)

Went to the neighborhood pizza place with Victoria where we had the usual pizza and pitcher of red sangria. Nothing like some red wine with fruit in it to make a girl feel that she's making some healthy choices. Vic has been absorbed with putting Remix to bed. I'm amazed at how she can write so many stories between her own and pinch-hitting.

I am sleeping in the maid's room of my roomate's apartment while the new airconditioning units are being put into the bedrooms and the living room and parlor. Could be sleeping on an air mattress, but instead decided to sleep on the massage table as the maid's room is only 12' long by 5' wide. Have been back here since Monday night; my room is covered with plastic sheeting to protect the furniture and carpet from the construction dust. The roommate went to stay with one of her friends downtown. The massage table is ok for a night or two as long as I don't make any sudden moves, but it's a little hard. For three of the nights last week I snuck back into my room and slept; there was a big hole in the wall where the AC hadn't been put in yet, so I figured the fresh air would keep me from inhaling lethal amounts of dust. Now, the hardware has been placed into the wall, so there's no air coming in. Can't promise I'll won't sneak back, though! I miss my bed.

My best high school friend (kind of first boyfriend) has a birthday coming up, and I have made him a CD of meaningful songs from 'back in the day.' While searching Itunes for the songs, I came across a jazzy/ska acoustic version of Player's BABY COME BACK which I tagged on as the last song. I had to have the original because there's a part in the song where one of the singer's says "listen baby" that's not in the acoustic version.

Here's the songlist:

She's Gone - Hall and Oates
Cold as Ice- Foreigner
Strange Way - Firefall
More Than A Feeling - Boston
You Are the Woman - Firefall
Year of the Cat - Al Stewart
How Much I Feel - Ambrosia
I Go Crazy - Paul Davis
You're the Only Woman - Ambrosia
Reminiscing - Little River Band
How Deep is Your Love-Bee Gees
I Just Want Stop-Gino Vanelli
Weekend in New England
Baby Come Back - Player

Since I don't have access to a TV until the plastic is removed from the appliances, I am missing MADTV. I hope they're going to to a parody of Madonna and Justin Timberlake's new video. (I love the song.) MADTV does hilarious Madonna video take-offs.

January 27th, 2007

Seven Songs I'm Into Now @ 12:15 pm

Current Mood: calm calm
Current Music: The Reflex - Duran Duran

List seven "songs" you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they're any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying now. Post these instructions in your LJ along with your seven songs.

1. Over My Head - The Fray (Good for walking to and from subway)
2. How to Save A Life - The Fray (Good for daydreaming while on the subway)
3. Dancing Shoies - Dan Fogelberg (Top played of all my IPOD songs - good for sitting on bed while cleaning out handbags)
4. When Your Eyes Open - Keane (Good for daydreaming about the next Remus/Sirus story Muse's Fool is going to write as inspired by this song)
5. Red Rain - Peter Gabriel (Played this for a month over Christmas in my sister's car and now need to buy it from Itunes. Good for driving around with a big drink from QT--that beverage heaven that is a tiny consolation for endless suburban sprawl.)
6. Tonight I Want to Cry - Keith Urban (Good for wondering about celebrity rehab. Keith drinks "a bottle of white" in the song.)
7. The Reflex - Duran Duran (Great for Windexing bathroom mirrors. Contains the bouncy lyric: "I'm on a ride that I wanna get of, but they won't slow down the roundabout.")


February 13th, 2006

It's All Very Curious @ 03:35 pm

Current Mood: confused confused
Current Music: None

So, my company moved our office from the 6th floor to the 3rd floor of a midtown building on Friday. Came in today to find new furniture, new chairs, and offices with sliding glass doors. My outside view looks like something from THE JUNGLE: the backsides of old tenement buildings with rickety-looking fire escapes. But then...if you look over the bad buildings and crane your neck (this involves sticking your head under the blinds), you get a view of the top three quarters of the top of the Chrysler Building against the sky. It's a dream come true!

I do have two questions for Management, though:

1. Why is it that when there’s a mere whisper of one tiny hint of a snowflake they close down the office at noon? Yet…when the biggest blizzard in recorded history hits the area, they have the office open the very next morning? Never mind that people have to walk through 4-foot drifts and huge puddles of dirty, icy slush. Never mind that people have to stand in the cold wet smelly subway underneath increasingly heavy drips of water mixed with God-knows-what. I was a block away from the office and inevitably slid on the slush and landed on my knees into a puddle in front of a very cute guy. He was sweet and solicitous (like one would be to one’s favorite dotty aunt), and then told me to have a nice day. That almost made up for everything—but not quite.

2nd question: what do you do if your ass doesn’t fit into your new chair?

February 14th, 2005

My Five Big Crushes @ 04:51 pm

Current Mood: busy
Current Music: Tom McCrae

Per Muse's Fool:

List five fictional people -- from television, movies, books, whatever -- that you had a crush on as a child (or early teens). Then post this on your LiveJournal so other people can know what a dork you've always been.

1. First Crush, Biggest Crush Ever: David Cassidy as Keith Partridge (I liked his gorgeous hair and goofy, unthreatening sexualty)
2. Minor crush, first sex dream: Michael Jackson (I know, I'm scared, too)
3. Western Crush #1, Adam Cartwright (I liked that he lived on a big ranch but never seemed to spend much time working and instead read a lot of books.)
4. Western crush #2, A. Martinez as Cimarron in THE COWBOYS movie/tv show. (I liked his tough but wounded mien and hot, young Latin looks.)
5. Misunderstood Guy with Animal Background Crush - Kevin Brophy as Lucan the Wolfboy. (Don't remember if he really turned into wolf, or if he was just raised by wolves? He also had nice hair.)

December 3rd, 2004

5 Celebs @ 01:19 pm

Current Mood: busy
Current Music: Pale Shelter, TEARS FOR FEARS

Inspired by Vic's journal:

Five Celebrities I'd Sleep with If They Turned Up on My Doorstep

1. Sting and Bono - They'd have to come together

2. Robert Downey, Jr. - For the conversation

3. Sean Bean - that's just sensible

4. Bernard Kerik - because I actually read his book when it came out; and if he's not afraid of terrorists, he's probably not afraid to kill bugs.

5. Mickey Rooney - sure, he's 84, but since I dragged my ass 10 hours in the car to see his show in Branson, MO and only got 1 show-biz ancecdote/film clip from him for every 6 holiday songs performed by the Lennon Brothers, he owes me. I'd make him do to me whatever he did to get 8 women to marry him, and then I'd let him nap.

November 4th, 2004

Honey, will you hold my purse? @ 12:17 pm

Current Mood: excited excited
Current Music: REM Around the Sun

REM tonight with Victoria. I'm so excited! Got the new REM CD this morning and it's terrific.

Last Thursday night I went to Tears for Fears by myself at the Beacon Theatre (home of the March sold-out STING concert.) All I can say is the boyz from Tears for Fears sound better (and look much better!) than they did in the '80s; (they were always cute in a laughably broody kind of way, but they are much more manly now without the fluffy mullets.) The concert was spectacular! The Beacon Theatre is about 1/3 the size of the Fox in Atlanta, but same set-up. I was in the 10th row right smack in the middle on the floor. It was a perfect concert experience. The crowd stood nearly the whole time and sang along with the band.

I'd gone to a bar beforehand for a little while and then just hung out in the theatre lobby looking over the crowd. It was mostly people my age, some a little younger. I was hoping for 40-year old hipster to spy me across the room and ask if I was appalled by the upcoming WE ARE THE WORLD VIDEO REMAKE--but no such luck. Later, I analyzed my look: fuschia blazer, black velvet jeans and patent-leather handbag. It struck me that I looked like a woman waiting for her dentist-husband to come out of the mens' room. Perhaps I should work on that...

I sat next to a guy from New Jersey whose wife let him out for the night. He was playing air-drums during most of the concert, and held up his cell phone during the big hits.

I saw that T 4 F is playing in Boulder the day I leave Denver. I would love to see them again, but sometimes it's best not to be always trying to recreate a great experience. Plus, I'll be on the way to seeing my 91-year old grandfather in South Dakota.

These are the concerts that I've seen in the last year or so:

Pearl Jam (Madison Square Garden)
KC and the Sunshine Band (BB King's Blues Club)
Sting and Annie Lennox (had to go all the way to Atlanta for that)
Carole King (had to go all the way to Boca Raton for that)
Eric Clapton (had to go all the way to Denver for that)
Tom McCrae (Joe's Pub and Fez in the same night!)
Barry Manilow (Madison Square Garden)
Tears for Fears (Beacon)

and now REM.

The ultimate will be U2. I haven't seen them since the Unforgettable Fire tour. They're touring again in the spring, so I must monitor that.

October 17th, 2004

(no subject) @ 12:14 pm

If you'd like to, when you see this, post a poem in your own journal

A Dream Of Death by William B. Yeats

I dreamed that one had died in a strange place
Near no accustomed hand,
And they had nailed the boards above her face,
The peasants of that land,
Wondering to lay her in that solitude,
And raised above her mound
A cross they had made out of two bits of wood,
And planted cypress round;
And left her to the indifferent stars above
Until I carved these words:
She was more beautiful than thy first love,
But now lies under boards.

October 11th, 2004

(no subject) @ 02:55 pm

Current Mood: amused;appalled
Current Music: Nik Kershaw, 15 MINUTES

Living in a city like New York where a girl walks the streets, she is bound to receive appreciative comments from men.

I have noticed that most of the men who whistle, wink, smile, comment, or look me up and down as if I were the last hot sausage on a street vendor's cart are black or hispanic. (I have never had an Asian man say "mmm, you so hot" as he passed, and the white men all look like they're wondering if they remembered to program their TiVo.)

I can usually tell as I see a man coming toward me if he's going to say something or not. He's walking with his head up, surveying everything around him, but not too fast. He might be any age, in a suit or in jeans, often from another country--I guess, where people are friendlier. What I usually get is "beautiful," or "hot!" or "you got it" or "fine!" (Once when I was wearing a Calvin Klein t-shirt a man said, with his eyes glued to my bosom, "I LOVE Calvin Klein!" )

I am not saying all of this because I think I am as hot as Britney Spears in August, 3rd barbecue sandwich in hand, 2nd wedding reception under her belt. I'm just saying, the audience is clearly there, and its members are applauding.

So yesterday, while walking through Grand Central Station, I spot a man of color coming toward me. Probably about 50, backwards baseball cap, messenger bag, relaxed smile (with a few teeth missing.) I did not give him any encouragement, and kept on my path with a pleasant and vague expression on my face. But I could tell that something was coming.

He was a mere foot away when he said, under his breath, "Hey, chubby."

I actually turned around to see if there was a chubby person behind me; there was not. He was talking to me!

There are no words.

(Except, whatever happened to "foxy lady?!")

September 23rd, 2004

"The End" @ 11:49 am

Went to a hotel sales reception at the Algonquin Hotel last night. I would like to move in there, particularly into the cozy two-room suite with original New Yorker Art and high ceilings. I could wear bias-cut silk gowns and turbans. And borrow one of Victoria's 85 red lipsticks.

I can't believe I never knew this, but it's a tradition for writers to come to the hotel to write the last page of their story/book. The hotel is advertising this, so I guess the tradition is being encouraged. I would like to sit at the Round Table with a big cosmopolitan and finish my final page with a flourish. (Of course, I have to write all the pages that come before, first.)

August 20th, 2004

Bring Back Those Bad Boys @ 03:04 pm

Current Mood: hungry hungry
Current Music: THE CURE

There is something poignant, hopeful and a little cute when a beatiful 25 year-old who's a little overweight joins a gym and is put through her paces by an overzealous personal trainer. He might be her age, and may say things like, "Grapefruit! It's the key! You eat 6 of those bad boys a day and you'll be "animal" in no time!"

On the other hand, when that same woman is 42, a bit more overweight, and is dependent on red lipstick to maintain her perception (likely warped) of her good looks, the story is not so pretty. While working out, this woman, at 25, would have worn biker shorts and a white and black RELAX t-shirt. Today for her free personal training/assessment at the Gym she wore a nightgown-sized red t-shirt, the same black cotton pants that she wore to work (they have lycra in them), white socks and red workout shoes. In short, she looked like a retarded clown.

The trainer, (no affable grapefruit-touting airhead), a dark-haired, compact 25-year old, seemed to have two tools in his arsenal of Motivation: a constant frown and an intense, low voice that kept prompting her to stare at him and say, "what? I can't hear you."

At the end of the grueling workout which included a lot of squats with a big rubber ball and endless, humiliating arm exercises, the trainer went for the big sales pitch as follows:

Trainer: How old are you?
Trainee: 42.
Trainer: Got kids?
Trainee: No.
Trainer: Never married?
Trainee: Uh, no. Afraid not.

(Is this the part where she should tell him that she did have a boyfriend from 1987-1995 and that when he broke up with her he told her that it wasn't just because of her weight it was because of her attitude?)

Trainer: Well, you're still...I mean, you're really not..that old. You still have a lot of life ahead of you.

Trainee: Uh, YEAH. I KNOW I do!

Trainer: So, you know, you want to think about the future. You don't want to have to use an oxygen machine to breathe down the road, right?

Trainee: Uh, right.

Is it really going to take $2000 and 25 personal training sessions to get "animal?" I think I'll stick with the grapefruit.

delicate little flowers

thoughts on pop culture, writing and life