I went to town today in this HuffPost Live video chat about age-related gender wage gaps for actresses. We were responding to a recent study reporting that female actors lose their Hollywood earning power at age 34 while male actors experience their pay decline at age 52. Not only did I get to retell Tina Fey and Amy Poehler’s great Golden Globes joke—Meryl Streep was brilliant in “August: Osage County,” proving there are still great roles in Hollywood for Meryl Streeps over 60— but we also got saucy at the expense of Ole Dead Eyes, Kristen Stewart. Bonus: doing these video sessions from home means I never have to change out of my sweatpants.
The little I knew Philip Seymour Hoffman was from my gym, of all places. A struggle radiated from him in all his best performances, in his relationship to drugs and alcohol, even while we tried (miserably) to get in shape on adjacent treadmills. What distinguished him most was how valiantly he took us along on that struggle. It feels disrespectful to how effectively he worked while he was alive to say “what a waste,” though many no doubt will be inclined to do so. But he will be greatly missed, and I feel sorrow that we’ve been reminded in such a tragic way that sobriety is nothing that ever can be taken for granted.
Now that my co-creator and I have completed the onerous tasks of le apartment rehab—sanding, plastering, painting, sawing—we’re onto the details. Where, you know, g-d lies. This morning I rewired a lamp myself by following a YouTube tutorial, cleaned out a dusty 1920s filing cabinet by googling “remove and clean shelves” and, using lemon rind and baking soda, degreased my grandmother’s 1940s Fiestaware–as recommended on a cleaning website. The Internet has legitimized its existence. Today.
The little I knew Philip Seymour Hoffman was from my gym, of all places. A struggle radiated from him in all his best performances, in his relationship to drugs and alcohol, even while we tried (miserably) to get in shape on adjacent treadmills. What distinguished him most was how valiantly he took us along on that struggle. It feels disrespectful to how effectively he worked while he was alive to say “what a waste,” though many no doubt will be inclined to do so. But he will be greatly missed, and I feel sorrow that we’ve been reminded in such a tragic way that sobriety is nothing that ever can be taken for granted.
Now that my co-creator and I have completed the onerous tasks of le apartment rehab—sanding, plastering, painting, sawing—we’re onto the details. Where, you know, g-d lies. This morning I rewired a lamp myself by following a YouTube tutorial, cleaned out a dusty 1920s filing cabinet by googling “remove and clean shelves” and, using lemon rind and baking soda, degreased my grandmother’s 1940s Fiestaware–as recommended on a cleaning website. The Internet has legitimized its existence. Today.