Archive | Cat Lady Matters

Mars Retrograde’s Paradigm Shuffle

I wake before the sun and shuffle into the kitchen to fix Gracie her breakfast and brew my coffee. I sit by the window, watch the doves bicker gently as they set up a new nest on my fire escape. Babies coming, I think, and pour coffee and heated cream into my biggest mug and shuffle back into the bedroom with a sated Gracie nipping at my heels.

I do not turn on a film. This is momentous.

When anything ominous looms on my horizon, I watch a film before beginning the day. I can rationalize the viewing by nodding to my ostensible profession of the last two decades–muppet critic, at your service–but lately I’ve come to wonder if the profession itself developed as the ultimate rationalization.

As dissociation devices go, a chosen profession is not so bad.

Lately, I have been watching an awful lot of early-morning movies. Yesterday, I watched Singin’ in the Rain. It’s a wonderful film. Certainly the best metamusical ever made–the best metamovie, period. I chose it in honor of the nation’s birthday–Debbie Reynolds in gold and pink spangles, popping out of a cake while my man Gene Kelly beams broadly and drawls: “Well, if it isn’t Ethel Barrymore.” Continue Reading →

Not Even Eloise Could Sell This Story

I woke in this garbage mood, like GARBAGE–this, despite the fact that I have extraordinarily loving friends, and (you may as well know) a lovely beau and (you already know) a lovely cat and a lovely home and a lovely neighborhood and even a lovely car. This, despite the fact that I working on a book I’ve wanted to write my whole life, despite the fact that I have an amazing space within walking distance in which to write it, despite the fact that I live next door to the friendliest most delicious most endearing coffee shop, despite the weather being about as perfect as New York weather gets, despite the fact that I am healthy and strong and dammit very much alive. I woke up feeling this way because (in increasing order) our country is truly in its end-days, exemplifying every theory Marx ever espoused about late-stage capitalism and also, not unrelatedly, because I am worried about cash and also, I am sorry to say, because my favorite Meg jumpsuit disappeared, and it was that rare garment that was both obscenely comfortable and sexy as hell and therefore irreplacable and of course magic. This is a Capricorn for you–eyes on the prize but always obsessed SIMPLY OBSESSED with her things. Sheeeit.

City Mouse, Country House

Grace and I just returned to the city. For six days we sat on the screened-in porch of A’s house and watched May explode. Oh, I thrifted and wrote and she chased bugs and sunspots. Definitely I tromped through meadows, woodland paths in so many shades of green that some appeared gold and some appeared indigo.

But mostly we sat still and drank it all in.

When I stayed in Hudson before, I never ventured off the paths of A’s land. But since Truro’s mermaid woods I’ve gotten much bolder about venturing into uncharted territory. I’m less afraid of getting lost, and trust the sun even in the middle of the forest. Continue Reading →

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy