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How We’ll Make It

This weekend I’m unwinding with loads of Mary Tyler Moore and no other screens after days of testing a new tarot spread I’ve devised to support us in these out-of-time times.

My corporal self is worn out. I’m on the first day of my periodic table without the now-forbidden ibuprofen and am fighting what I am fairly sure is the Covid-19 virus, though of course there’s no test or healthcare unless I’m at death’s door.

I’m not being alarmist: I’ve been exposed to at least two people who were exposed to people who tested positive; I’ve had a low fever and a sore threat for days; and I’m fairly certain many New Yorkers are already positive, though this doesn’t mean we should abandon social distancing. Nor am I being casual about my self-diagnosis: I’ve taken zinc, vitamins, hot salt baths; gargled hot salt water; inhaled broth and tons of hot liquids. Prayed and meditated. Isolated. Honestly this is not a plea for help. More an acknowledgment that this is life now.

I sense I’m already turning a corner, partly because I’m lucky enough to have a strong immune system, and partly because JOJ-she who fixed my back last fall–gave me a remote healing session.

The concept of weekend seems odd, doesn’t it? With the flow of life on hold, the human race is suspended in a collective tesseract, one in which the constructs of linear time do not apply. Right now we don’t belong to the physical world at large. We are not bodies in place and time. Alone together, we are only energy particles to each other, faces on screens, voices in the ether, memes. Why not identify as Nefertiti on her Egyptian throne in 1370 BC? Or Mary Tyler Moore in 1977, blithely breaking through glass ceilings with a tam o’shanter?

On one level we are more exposed than we’ve ever been. Have you ever talked to this many people while in your PJS? Have your coworkers ever before seen your home? But we are also malleable, fluid, changelings. Stripped to essences.

Spirits.

To navigate this universal stop-time and stop-motion, we need new and forgotten tools–economically, medically, spiritually, emotionally, politically. We artists, healers, witches—seeers and soothers and sooth-sayers–are well-acquainted with ethereal realms. We know about kairos–the land of soul time that always lives beyond, below and around linear time.

So let us help. We are going to make it after all, but only if we make something new.

Astro PSA: Full Moon in Buzzy, Busy Gemini

I write from a neighborhood bar that has a great and relatively quiet happy hour. Drinking sazerac, mawing nuts, rereading the day’s pages, and listening to a man my age mack on a girl who at the very oldest is 25. I’d judge the shit out of him except when I walked in, he raised his eyebrows suggestively and I shook my head. Also the last person I snogged was half my age, which made them roughly 25 (ok, younger). If this paragraph didn’t land where you expected, welcome to my 2019.

Then again, time is a construct.

Earlier today NYC was a storybook—-kids bobbing on parents’ shoulders, everyone bundled like toddlers in mittens and hats, and snow, glorious snow. But by midday it was back to bleak, urine-drenched, and sooty. Enter free-wheeling Sagittarius season and tonight’s full moon in Gemini. Both aspects remind us to be here now since linear time is big old myth and nothing else is real either save the story you tell yourself. And love, the greatest gravity of all.

I don’t know about you but I’m feeling that inside and out. Even on television, at least Watchmen, the most momentous show anywhere right now (see what I did there?), the notion of linear time is being savagely imploded.

Fourth dimension is, like, so twenty-teens.

Taking place in the earliest hours of tomorrow–that’s 12/12 at exactly 12:12 am!–tonight’s “long cold night full moon” also exits us out of a cycle of karma since the number 12 is all about reincarnation. Ask yourself: What hard lessons have I begun learning this year that I can finally put to use? Venus, Saturn, and Pluto are conjuncting, which suggests the lessons may be taking place in our relationships and finances. Certainly that was true for me, though ain’t that always the case? Bottom line: we are moving past the limited thinking that we were taught kept us safe but really has held us back. Don’t be scared. Be glad–and dress warmly.

Little Women, Inner Children

Yesterday we taped the first episode of Talking Pictures since my back went kablooey (and yes that’s the official medical diagnosis). To celebrate I got it into my head to decorate my head, and so wove into my triple-braided bun pine cones and branches, baby’s breath, and tiny bird. All in all it was an effect that raised more than a few eyebrows among the normally unflappable population of NYC.

Chalk it up to the fact that I was reviewing the most recent iteration of Little Women, which I had approached with great trepidation and from which I had floated with great elation.

There have many, many film, television, and stage adaptations of Louisa May Alcott’s Civil War-set saga about four Massachusetts sisters who are rich in love and poor in cash, but this is the most ravishing and the first that does not betray the intense feminism of its author. Directed by mumblemouth millennial Greta Gerwig (cue my trepidation), it boasts an intensely good cast including Soirse Ronan as stalwart Jo, Meryl Streep mugging to unusually good effect as drolly disapproving Aunt March, Timotheeee Chalomet very right if too slight as Laurie, and Florence Pugh, channeling the authentically big emotions of Midsommar to animate Amy, the most bedazzled and entitled of the March girls. (Laura Dern is too Modern Millie for the Marnie of my dreams, but I’m immune to her Lynchian charms.) Continue Reading →

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