Got up early this morning, as is my wont, and realized I was out of coffee beans and half and half. I actually didn’t panic. I figured I’d fetch my coffee at Fairway, where I was heading for my weekly shop. But somehow in my joy over fresh bagels and empty aisles (it was very early), I forgot. And then, after putting away my groceries, felt so inexplicably sad and sleepy and headachy that I climbed back into bed. I woke up six hours later totally discombobulated until I realized: WAIT! THAT WAS MY BRAIN ON NO COFFEE! Did I take this as a sign that I was a rabid drug addict? That I should, oh, address the proverbial monkey on my back? I did not. Instead, I wobbled down to Oslo Coffee Roasters, drank a four-shot Americano, and celebrated the return of my personality by making three billion lists and two new friends. All hail the power of legal drugs.
This sweltering Saturday, the Leonard Library Film Discussion Club is hosting a free 2:30 pm screening of “The Landlord” (1970). Directed by the late, great Hal Asby (“Harold and Maude,” “Being There”), this social comedy is one of the most underrated films to emerge from the Kent State-inspired cinema of the early 1970s. Beau Bridges stars as an entitled rich kid who buys a Bed Stuy row house only to discover he’s accountable to people he’d never encounter at the country club. Adapted from Kristen Hunter’s epomymous novel and featuring Gordon Willis’s voluptuous cinematography, this message movie about gentrification costars acting powerhouses Pearl Bailey, Diana Sands, and Lee Grant; it works on so many levels that even if you’ve seen it before, you should come enjoy the ride, or at least our AIR CONDITIONING. Yours truly is moderating the post-screening conversation, which will take place in our newly renovated garden, weather permitting. Come! I would love to see you there. Perhaps we’ll convene for drinks somewhere in the neighborhood afterward.
‘The Landlord.’ (Rated PG, 113 min) Saturday, August 1, 2:30 pm. Leonard Library 81 Devoe St. at Leonard St. Brooklyn, NY 11211 718.486.3365
Pictured here: my seasonal subway wince. I love New York as much as anyone I know, but the city is not only hot but hot-headed in the dog days of summer; when temperatures and humidity climb, everyone’s manners go straight out the window. (Hygiene too; witness the pervasive eau de rotting lemons and dashed dreams.) This is a shame, for excellent NYC etiquette is required to ensure we don’t kill each other as we walk down the street. Me, I’m hightailing it to my hometown of Boston. Even with its genetically engineered surliness and crap driving Massholia is preferable this time of year. I think it has something to do with being located right on the coast. The Atlantic Ocean washes away all delusions of grandeur. So get in touch if you’re going to be around. I’m even considering doing some quickie, cheapo tarot readings a la the ladies who crowd Union Square except not so scary and bullying. Like I said: etiquette is key.
Got up early this morning, as is my wont, and realized I was out of coffee beans and half and half. I actually didn’t panic. I figured I’d fetch my coffee at Fairway, where I was heading for my weekly shop. But somehow in my joy over fresh bagels and empty aisles (it was very early), I forgot. And then, after putting away my groceries, felt so inexplicably sad and sleepy and headachy that I climbed back into bed. I woke up six hours later totally discombobulated until I realized: WAIT! THAT WAS MY BRAIN ON NO COFFEE! Did I take this as a sign that I was a rabid drug addict? That I should, oh, address the proverbial monkey on my back? I did not. Instead, I wobbled down to Oslo Coffee Roasters, drank a four-shot Americano, and celebrated the return of my personality by making three billion lists and two new friends. All hail the power of legal drugs.
This sweltering Saturday, the Leonard Library Film Discussion Club is hosting a free 2:30 pm screening of “The Landlord” (1970). Directed by the late, great Hal Asby (“Harold and Maude,” “Being There”), this social comedy is one of the most underrated films to emerge from the Kent State-inspired cinema of the early 1970s. Beau Bridges stars as an entitled rich kid who buys a Bed Stuy row house only to discover he’s accountable to people he’d never encounter at the country club. Adapted from Kristen Hunter’s epomymous novel and featuring Gordon Willis’s voluptuous cinematography, this message movie about gentrification costars acting powerhouses Pearl Bailey, Diana Sands, and Lee Grant; it works on so many levels that even if you’ve seen it before, you should come enjoy the ride, or at least our AIR CONDITIONING. Yours truly is moderating the post-screening conversation, which will take place in our newly renovated garden, weather permitting. Come! I would love to see you there. Perhaps we’ll convene for drinks somewhere in the neighborhood afterward.
Pictured here: my seasonal subway wince. I love New York as much as anyone I know, but the city is not only hot but hot-headed in the dog days of summer; when temperatures and humidity climb, everyone’s manners go straight out the window. (Hygiene too; witness the pervasive eau de rotting lemons and dashed dreams.) This is a shame, for excellent NYC etiquette is required to ensure we don’t kill each other as we walk down the street. Me, I’m hightailing it to my hometown of Boston. Even with its genetically engineered surliness and crap driving Massholia is preferable this time of year. I think it has something to do with being located right on the coast. The Atlantic Ocean washes away all delusions of grandeur. So get in touch if you’re going to be around. I’m even considering doing some quickie, cheapo tarot readings a la the ladies who crowd Union Square except not so scary and bullying. Like I said: etiquette is key.