jaysaint Getting it all down on paper…

It’s hard to think about posting, and not posting about Katrina. And yet I’m aware of my lack of eloquence, my lack of insight. What on earth could I possibly add that hasn’t been said before and better. Coastal erosion, hot waters in the Gulf of Mexico, various environmental degredations that made Katrina’s impact possible… we know. A slow and sloppy response… we know. I’m sad and frustrated and frightened for the city and for the people who got stuck there. I can’t stop thinking about all the pets. And all the people who are dying because they run out of insulin or oxygen or the other things they rely on in order to live.

I wish I could go there and hand out water or help salvage or drive a bus. Which is the last thing anyone needs, really. I just wish I could.

Here’s something I want people to stop doing right now.

If I’m watching a movie with you, please don’t watch me watch the movie. A surprising number of people I go to movies with seem to do that.

I understand that it’s coming from a really sweet place, where you want to know if I’m having fun, and want to enjoy watching me have fun. But I don’t like it. Stop it.

I will grant exceptions if it’s your favorite movie or if something just happened that touches on something I have in common with you.

But if the above conditions aren’t met, I’m going to stare straight ahead and try not to give you any feedback that would encourage monitoring me.

I’m sure this is my semi-autistic only child core speaking. And I’m a jerk for not appreciating that my loved ones are so interested in me.

But I still want you to stop.

When I look at my monthly maintenance bill, I think: Why do I live in Manhattan?

And then I get an email that I can get $10 tickets to a reading of Plaza Suite with Andrew McCarthy.

And I know why I live in Manhattan.

September 19th, all my Mannequin dreams come true.

You’re Brigitte Bardot!

What Classic Pin-Up Are You?
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Damon and Kari and I went to 42nd St. last night to see ‘Red Eye.’ When I first saw the poster, I thought, “Um, no.” But the reviews were really good and it turned out to be a one of the few none of us had seen and that fit the bill of “summery.” And I admit it, I was totally wrong in my initial reaction. It was so much fun — campy and scary and goofy. There were a few things that made me laugh out loud. Not derisively, but in delight at the audacity or ridiculousness or moxie in making choices. Don’t get me wrong, this movie will not make you a better person. Afterward we talked about it and laughed some more for about a half and hour, and then it pretty much evaporated from my brain. But I can’t be alone in finding Cillian Murphy hypnotic. What kind of genetic mixup produced that guy?

My work ennui continues. Do I leave? If I leave, do I stay in this field?

Tonight we’ll throw a birthday dinner for James. I want to make stuffed artichokes, but am not sure if I can find nice enough vegetables for that. Linguini with clams? Deviled eggs? Panzanella? Bruschetta? Mediterranean feast (hummus, baba ganoush, olives, cucumbers, etc)? Cheese and fruit plate? Cake? Milkshakes? Salad? I’m not sure what to make.