Archive | Feminist Matters

Fish Soup (More Pisces Season Notes)

I just wanted acknowledge to all the other women my age–and all those who care about our welfare–that perimenopause SUCKS. The mood swings, hot and cold flashes, sleep disturbances, constant peeing, bad skin, weird-ass cycle shifts. It’s basically a nonstop PMS. Worse, it’s basically a second puberty–one that results in sagging rather than pert breasts and, oy vey, dry pussies and grey pubes. Ok, rant over. But feel free to chime in.

Of course, this hormonal maelstrom is hitting extra hard because of this Mercury Retrograde in Pisces, which has been ravaging my heart and savaging my style–dowager chic having slid into shtetl chic (see pic!).

Here in New York everyone seems to be hurting everyone else and no one has been clearly communicating what they mean; this Retrograde has caused a Metrograde. After two inadvertently ugly interactions today, I climbed back into my witch’s lair and am now cooking everything I want to eat for the next four days: namely, fish soup with a splash of pernod,and a meatball ragu. Tears only improve the contents of a cauldron, right?

So if things are hitting you hard, it may be a good time to bunker up with home projects. Just remember: The only consistent thing in this world is change! By March 4, life will lighten up immeasurably.

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One benefit of such an emotionally driven month is our enhanced ability to tap into soul-level truths. To schedule an intuition reading during this time, get in touch.

Ignited by ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’

What follows is a talk I gave about Portrait of a Lady on Fire, which opened this weekend and which you absolutely must see on a big screen if you love and support contemporary cinema about something besides metaphorical and literal penises.

With its gorgeously textured examination of female desire, creativity and agency, Portrait of a Lady on Fire is one of my favorite films of 2019.

Though it may seem magically out of time and space, it was shot in a never-rehabbed house in Brittany and set in the autumn of 1770—when all that would remain of a moment after it passed was what could be captured by memory and imagination. Witness one of its first scenes, when Marianne, played by Noémie Merlant, leaps fully clothed into the sea to save her canvases while the guys rowing the boat watch impassively (read: uselessly).

This sets the tone for this film, not only in terms of how largely absent men are—this is the last time we see one until nearly the end—but in terms of the female determination that defines this story. Continue Reading →

Finish Lines: Double Toil, Trouble, Entendre

Cute Cat’s Curls

Where to start, where to start?

It hasn’t been that long since I blogged, but it’s been a while since I deposited the kind of long, rambling essay that I feel inclined to deposit right now. Consider yourself warned.

The universe is encouraging me to do so. For one thing, I hiked all the way into the West Village to write the thank-yous I so desperately need—and want!—to write, only to discover I’d remembered everything but the beautiful notecards I’d purchased for this purpose. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here at Oslo West, with my long-lost friend, barista Cat, who has new curls—or maybe curls she just let off the leash. Either way, they’re fetching.

So far it’s been that kind of year: everything off the leash. Exhibit A: our democracy. Correction: Our former democracy.

Anyway, all of the West Village is fetching, sometimes I forget. Once upon a time I lived here with the Architect, and as much as it’s changed it’s also the same: the oddest mix of brittle and cozy, bohemian and haughty. Continue Reading →

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