Saturday, February 28, 2009


Whomever invented the martini deserves a nobel prize. Or a major prize in general.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

what does it take to make a face?

when you think about that moment of your life.

whether or not the wedding/committment/bond thing applies to you, there will always be someone with whom you have that moment, that spark, that atomically-lit glance where you acknowledge that it's ok that you spend your life with that person, that your connection is both bona fide and validated.
think of hopping in a car after your wedding/ceremony/dinner at crown chicken, and after returning the exuberant well-wishings of your friends and attendees, you face that moment of slumping back into your seat, situated next to your sig.other (a moment so beautifully accompanied by the 4:38 mark of the brandenburg concerto no. 3) and facing their gaze, looking at their face, studying their countenance with a discernation never before felt, like a warm, new awareness, perhaps because of the ceremonial champagne (unless, of course either of you are a recovering alcoholic) and realizing with an amorous flush, and perhaps a preternatural tinge of primal doubt, like that stubborn bubble in your slightly dirty martini, that you actually want/love/are fulfilled, both to and by the fact that you're spending your life with this person. now's the moment to let go of anything imperfect--a stray hair, large pore, uneven eyebrow, misplaced tooth, and open your mouth, eyes, ears, tongue and fingertips to nothing but love. time stops to honor this thought.
and then it's their face--an open, vulnerable, secret candid look. An expression no one but you will see and love. it's your look. two eyes open so liberally to you. So what does it take to make a face? a face just for you, just about you, to cosign and coexist and colove with you? what does it take to make a face?

Tuesday, February 24, 2009


i'm sorry but facebook and statuses and twitters and shitters and whatever have grossly gone out of control with the onset of fashion week. i sign onto facebook to take care of, you know, business, and my screen is filled with torrents of "blah blah is in line at THIS show" or "so and so has THAT show right after whatever." i don't mean to be the cheeto in the chex mix, but these people who take fash week so damn seriously just kill me. attitude and cuntery is everywhere and to proliferate the currently most-overused phrase in new york, "i can't." these girls who confuse alexis carrington with carol channing. put your fuckin american apparel glasses away and go back to brooklyn 'cause I didn't windex my shoes for you, bitch.
now back to meryl's mamma mia.