Four seemingly unrelated observations that consumed my soggy journey home tonight. (No doubt a Jungian scholar could tease out a few useful connections.) 1. Regarding John Travolta’s nonresponse to “Going Clear,” I’d love it if just once a zombie-celeb actually read or watched some criticism of Scientology before rushing to the defense of their cult. 2. Umbrella, subway, smartphone, tipping, and sidewalk etiquette certification should be required of all NYC residents and visitors. 3. This spring’s fashion can best be described as Blade Runner Chic. It’s all futuristic noir, 1940s-style punk, Victorian blouses, white-blond shocks of hair, dark pompadours, impossibly narrow silhouettes, bright lips, black-rimmed eyes, platform shoes. I dig it all so much that I cut my hair and bought (more) red lipstick. 4. I’m still laughing about people’s responses to the shearing of my mermaid tresses: “Your hair was far too long before.” Even my shrink said this. Word to Mattel: Can the plans for Fortysomething Barbie.
Today marks the first meeting of the Leonard Library Film Club. On the docket: Elia Kazan’s big-hearted, broody “A Tree Grows In Brooklyn,” which is based on our very own branch (located at Leonard and Devoe in Wiliamsburg, one block from the L Train’s Lorimer stop). The event is free, with a post-screening discussion led by yours truly in a fancy hat. Tomorrow’s weather is supposed to be gloomy and cool so do stop by if you are a local. I would so love to meet you.
Three stroppy females on the subway tonight: 1. A woman standing, unsupported, in the midst of the crowded moving car, blithely reading The Wisdom of Insecurity as she sways into everyone around her. There’s such a thing as overkill, doll. 2. A woman wearing three pink bows in her hair, shoving people out of her way and stepping on feet as she enters the train. Why do the meanest broads always wear bows? 3. Me, shaming a manspreader into closing his legs enough to make room for me to sit, then out-manspreading him so outrageously that he’s forced to close his legs entirely. Good thing I wore pants today! Feminist in the streets, liberationist in the sheets.
Four seemingly unrelated observations that consumed my soggy journey home tonight. (No doubt a Jungian scholar could tease out a few useful connections.) 1. Regarding John Travolta’s nonresponse to “Going Clear,” I’d love it if just once a zombie-celeb actually read or watched some criticism of Scientology before rushing to the defense of their cult. 2. Umbrella, subway, smartphone, tipping, and sidewalk etiquette certification should be required of all NYC residents and visitors. 3. This spring’s fashion can best be described as Blade Runner Chic. It’s all futuristic noir, 1940s-style punk, Victorian blouses, white-blond shocks of hair, dark pompadours, impossibly narrow silhouettes, bright lips, black-rimmed eyes, platform shoes.
I dig it all so much that I cut my hair and bought (more) red lipstick. 4. I’m still laughing about people’s responses to the shearing of my mermaid tresses: “Your hair was far too long before.” Even my shrink said this. Word to Mattel: Can the plans for Fortysomething Barbie. 
Today marks the first meeting of the Leonard Library Film Club. On the docket: Elia Kazan’s big-hearted, broody “A Tree Grows In Brooklyn,” which is based on our very own branch (located at Leonard and Devoe in Wiliamsburg, one block from the L Train’s Lorimer stop). The event is free, with a post-screening discussion led by yours truly in a fancy hat. Tomorrow’s weather is supposed to be gloomy and cool so do stop by if you are a local. I would so love to meet you.
Three stroppy females on the subway tonight: 1. A woman standing, unsupported, in the midst of the crowded moving car, blithely reading The Wisdom of Insecurity as she sways into everyone around her. There’s such a thing as overkill, doll. 2. A woman wearing three pink bows in her hair, shoving people out of her way and stepping on feet as she enters the train. Why do the meanest broads always wear bows? 3. Me, shaming a manspreader into closing his legs enough to make room for me to sit, then out-manspreading him so outrageously that he’s forced to close his legs entirely. Good thing I wore pants today! Feminist in the streets, liberationist in the sheets.