approaching day 4: still not on the breadlines
To comfort me in my time of emotional turmoil, I turn to this group picture, taken in the sacred home of Wanakena over New Years. I’m about 3rd from the left, in the unfortunately-attention-grabbing coat (it was my grandmother’s and it’s VERY VERY warm!) holding up a “W” for Wanakena; and I’m in that coat because we were in the process of walking out the door. Oh, Wanakena. To be there still …
Well, as I’m stuck here, I’m doing the best I can. There’s something creepy about being left alone all day. It’s a bit like The Yellow Wallpaper, even if I’m not kept in one room on purpose, because, well, I live in one room. Luckily, my studio’s walls are white — and no one’s ever gone crazy in a white-walled room.
I’m doing what I’m supposed to do, reading, writing a lot, sending earnest cover letters. While I wait to either land a job or get a six figure advance on my book, I’m glad to learn that people retain the capacity to be surprised by the blazingly obvious. Observe what was considered “news” today: simmering sexpot Angelina Jolie — who has been having near constant intercourse with Brad Pitt for nigh on six months — has failed a pregnancy test; and former DC mayor and semi-rehabilitated felon Marion Barry has failed a drug test.
Oh, also? Anthony Lane is troubled by the state of contemporary American cinema. Don’t try to scrape me off the ceiling. It’s more comfortable up here.
I am free today and coming into Manhattan, call me when you wake up, friend – I hope you don’t have plans. I have a fun friend coming into town whom I want you to meet. And I wish it were cold enough for you to wear that awesome coat. Love.
The Yellow Wallpaper. Man, they make everyone read that, don’t they?
My living room is painted a deep red, and one would think that’s more conducive to crazy-going-ness. Except whoever gets locked in their living room?
“Who ever.” There should be a space there. Lack of space changes everythin’.
aren’t we bee-yoo-ti-ful? i’m putting my pics up too. someday.