hi and lois
So yesterday, as i’m doing a test shot for an upcoming project ” Destrudo”, the director, one Mr. Drake, pulls out a aging magazine that upon closer inspection is a satire on Martha Stewart’s Living. In it is a friend of the director’ s, who turns out to be the guy who writes Hi and Lois, the cartoon strip ,is mocking a formal dinner party. Hence the title is my attempt to be cute about writing about the “highs and lows” of late. On the upside, due to my being the governess of a local politician’s progeny, I got to attend a invite only party meant to ingratiate the film industry to the local politicians. It happened to afford me the chance to meet the beautiful and gracious Ali Macgraw, get a quick handshake from Robert Redford, and get told I was pretty by the Governor. How about that ? On the less than fine, what’s up with people ditching their friends for their on -and- off significant others? So I had plans tonight with two of my buddies, and got a text around the time we were supposed to meet up that one had cancelled owing to his having gotten back with his lady, whom he’d broken it off with the weekend before. Then, when I called the other friend to bemoan the first’s lameness, they informed me that they too would be ditching me for the schmuck they happen to bone. Is this hetero-normative? Am I missing the understanding of why this is okay, because I was raised by dykes? my mind immediately counters with the idea that lesbians too could pull this ruse, ditching their friends for whatever minx is currently envogue. So maybe it is not an evil I can explain away with that glorious term? but still me thinks the prioritizing of lovers over friends is one that begets a society of monogamous, nuclear familied lame-o’s, nonetheless…..so maybe they are related……
narrative that is me
So i started working with a local lady Tanya Taylor Rubenstein on making a book proposal for my opus, Moms and Bombs. We had our first session yesterday. I cried. Multiple times actually. She seemed to think this was how we would get to the ” good Stuff”. It felt suspiciously like therapy to me, probably because I was crying and there was a stranger taking notes. I comforted myself with the thought that, even if I was paying similarly exorbitant hourly rates, this would eventually make me money, which therapy does not. I also attempted to convince myself that if I wasn’t totally over my ex ( hence the tears), this would have to help. Miss TTR even agreed on that one, saying admiringly, that writing a book about the failure of your relationship was a creative and empowered way to grieve. My homework for the week is to write a one page summary of the story im telling. The kind of thing you find on a book jacket. So in the fashion of a true research wonk, i hightailed it to the library to inspect book jackets. Never have hardbacks been so appealing…..
moms and bombs 