A Dark & Stormy Night in Ferrara

and in Washington, DC. I'd hoped to have one of several posts ready with much more than this...but people have not answered their emails with permissions. Ferrara is a lovely Renaissance town though I don't profess much familiarity with it. I just read that it is a UNESCO heritage site. Very nice. With that, I better shut things down as the rain is now much, much more than background noise. Time to put the kettle on. Cheers. (Ferrara::1 by MisterKey via deviantArt)

Painting Against the Enemy

"Painting is not made to decorate apartments. It's an offensive and defensive weapon against the enemy."~Picasso

(Nina Leen photograph of a fighter in her studio via LIFE Archives)

Tutu & Blue Asters

Every flower has a history and every flower symbolizes something. Often the history and symbols are confusing and contradictory but they are still fascinating. If your birthday is in the month of September, your flower is the aster. Here is the story and language of your flower.

The Latin name for the aster is Aster, which literally means star. The association with stars, clearly references the flower’s shape. While we no longer use the word aster to refer to stars, we still use words that use the root aster in words with related meanings. The word asterisk literally means ‘little star,’ while the word disaster refers to something that occurred under a bad omen or something that was ‘ill-starred.’

The colloquial names for the aster are starwort and Michaelmas daisy. (From Suite101 by Melissa Howard)

(Blue aster by zizzy via flickr)

Don't Wait Up

I've been left for dead before/but I still fight on./Don't wait up, leave the light on/I'll be home soon.--Leave the Light On

It's raining cats & dogs. Severe weather on the way. Rats, double rats. Plans for today - virtual & real - on hold. (You really should click on the video or the link. Chris is not employing hyperbole in the lyric - straight from his life.)

Thanks so much for all the best wishes, cards, & gifts, too. Cheers.

PS: On Julie's blog - "cat macros." Seriously.

(Umbrella by SaikoroKitty via deviantArt)

Spooky Sunday - Falling Darkness

It's Halloween in Oxford, and mischief is in the air — and, as it happens, murder. A woman is found dead, a stake through her heart, a bulb of garlic in her mouth. It's a surreal crime...Inspector Lewis final episode of season. Falling Darkness. (via PBS Mystery website) Jane Austen World's review. Love these. Boo!

(photographs via Jane Austen World & OldUKPhotos (dot) com)

Week's End - Can You Hear Me Now?

Thanks to everyone for their good wishes & comments this last week (& always). I've been trying to get through to a friend in Sudan*. (Here's something free to do to help out.) She sent out an email earlier today saying that she wouldn't mind hearing some familiar voices. Everyone on the list must be calling at the same time. So while I'm stopping that for now, I just realized that I've missed coffee infusions, Julie's food supply is sketchy, etc. It's over 90 degrees here & I do not want to go out. Alas, it isn't up to me.

While surfing around, I read a review of Stephen Fry's new volume of memoirs, The Fry Chronicles in The Observer. And while shopping is out of the question, totally, there are some cool products to look at like these retro phones for Skype-ing.

And it is F. Scott Fitzgerald's birthday--happy birthday, dear Scott. Visit DC-area writer & novelist Leslie Pietrzyk at Work-in-Progress to enter a contest for her to buy YOU a literary magazine (there are limits, but as usual Leslie is very generous) in honor of one of our literary idols. You have until Monday, 27 September, 5pm EDT. (I haven't entered because Leslie feels bad if someone she knows doesn't win. Big-hearted Leslie.) Cheers, until later.

(*OK, the latest barking mad thing is going on over there & the Twitter-verse must be consulted.)

Good Grace

Please excuse the last few goofing-off posts; I really don't feel very well & am still debating Strasbourg & other journeys & revelations therein. A few people de-followed & I regret that you have been offended. (apparently). I know the layout of this blog is offending me at the moment, but there's absolutely nothing I can do about it right now. Meanwhile, I hope to remain in the good graces of others who stop in to say hello. I do like hearing from you. -- Susan

I rented The September Issue to watch the deleted scenes, the extras, & it was worth it. Last month WWD reported that Grace (I cannot call her Ms. Coddington, unless she insists) is working on a memoir. Because she is gracious, it will not be all about her -- though that would be fascinating. Here's a link to a Times Online article last year. Her darling book The Catwalk Cats (with Dider Malige, her beau) was published in 2007. The short video clip is worth clicking to see GC's necklace--wow.

(British Vogue, August 1962 by Carapetian via stylite (dot) com; GC, The September Issue, via Sunday Times, still hunting for the still photographer credit. RJ Cutler directed.)

Lemon-ism

Can I share with you my worldview? All of humankind has one thing in common: the sandwich. I believe that all anyone really wants in this life is to sit in peace and eat a sandwich.--Liz Lemon (Tina Fey) No. 16 on the funniest Liz Lemon-sims, here.

I had no idea that NBC's website was so amusingly interactive. Probably because MSNBC is trying to draw attention away from the fact that they are fomenting (I love that word) the leftist revolution that they hope to televise. Or something. Someone actually said this within my privacy-bubble-sandwich-consuming space. And I thought getting out to write was a good thing. Criminy.

(photograph of Liz via apartment therapy, she is pondering "decorganizing"; lemon girl by cig harvey via a cup of jo, via little sussy)

Mary Had a Little Lamb

This photograph + playing Jimi Hendrix + (thought of Stevie Ray Vaughn) + (SRV version of the nursery rhyme)=Goofing Off Post. And I miss him. How can it possibly be 20 years since he died & what--40 years for Jimi. (Also, more than one person wrote to say, egad, that photo of Natalie Portman. Yikes. And now it's making me think twice.) Cheers.

Swan Alone

It relieves people of all that blathering below. Now, I must go make dinner. Fresh produce waits for no one. (Especially when purchased last week. Eek. This is where French cooking knowledge comes in handy. Thanks, Julia!) Natalie Portman in Black Swan via mariakochetkova (dot) com. A landing in the Ill River by somebody3121 on deviantArt. (seriously, 'somebody')

What I'd Be

without you. Racing over here to see "who"? Not yet. On a summer (it still is) play-list, blaring out of a teensy speaker is God Only Knows. Trust me, it's very cool in a mix. Julie swoons every time that song, Bus Stop or Try & Catch the Wind play. She's such a flower child-cat. At the same time, she enjoys the remastered Exile on Main Street. She's super cool in a friendly way & I wish I were more like her.

No, the subject is - what would I be without having flown many years ago, 16 September, at age 17* to Strasbourg, France. (via Luxembourg. Alone, baby, alone.) It's not that I regret our fast communication & info tech. It would have made a huge difference in my life some years later in the Middle East--for the better, possibly saved some lives. I don't pine for the good old days; they weren't always so good upon further examination. Anyway, as nervous as I was, I had to make the decisions on my own. That made me more confident, or at least damn nervier, than most 17-18 year old people today. Listen, I was never going to have much support no matter where I went or lived. (Material support? None. So before I receive more messages of "you had money, you grew up with..." No I did not. (This part is To Be Continued.)

I knew there weren't too many chances in life. If you think that's pessimistic, I would say it's realistic. You get a chance, you damn well better take it. Sometimes you can create an opportunity--but it's not all you, a lot depends on fate (or whatever you want to call it), other people, world events. (BTW, I'm not a fan of taking advantage of another person & calling that an opportunity.) That's why I went to Strasbourg & not to Paris.

Honestly, this whole enterprise is beyond ridiculous without a camera. These because the girl has a tripod & she's dressed in a manner similar to 1970s non-awfulness. (It wasn't all bad.) I wore hats & still do, but I don't think I had one this floppy. The rest are for-real Strasbourg photographs. The second one, it's the real place & it's a pigeonnier, close to the Rhine where I used to walk (approaching it through the other shot, which is a wheat field surrounded by the Strasbourg forest).

I have to break this up into parts. And then fix them. Bear with me. There are lots of great links here & on Julie's blog, Giulia Geranium. The Clever Pup is pondering Paris & has some current, good information on hotels. She researches this stuff to a fare-thee-well...so take advantage of it. Also, Liberty of London Girl's London Fashion Week Survival Kit giveaway is on until Thursday, 23 September. I still don't know if it's only for UK visitors, so enter anyway. It's fun to read the posts in between hideous world news bulletins. For those worried about Tea Party Poopers & assorted lunatics (if not, wow, wake up), The Political Carnival is my favorite place to check in. I rely on Laffy & Paddy to keep my spirits up, too. They are stylish, tweeting troublemakers.

(*soon to be 18 but I still love that I turned 18 in France. I'm hopeless about it, just let me have that, OK? Merci.)

Week's End - Strangers in the Night

Well, this works on a few levels. (See previous post, sleep clinics) Have a terrific weekend. There are oodles, yes oodles, of great links on this page, Julie's blog, & just keep on clicking to those blogs. Over & out, cheeky ones. (photographs from Truman Capote's Black & White Ball, 1966/via LATimes & Cup of Jo, second is by Harry Benson)

Saturday update - Liberty London Girl is having a London Fashion Week giveaway that is just wonderful. It doesn't say for UK readers only, so I left a comment. It might be though. There are several lovely Brits who visit here & I thought you would be interested. Cheers. xo

Update - the computer is acting up again . One program says, "A-OK, ma'am." The other is flashing weird red signs & I expect a siren to start up any moment. &^*I*^T^! Anyhoo, if you leave a comment & it doesn't show up, I am not ignoring them. Must take laptop to be spot-cleaned, washed, fluffed & folded on the weekend. Someone invent a Virus-Designer-Dudes-Be-Gone spray. Or something.

Acquainted with the Night

Acquainted With The Night is one of the most famous examples of an American poem written in terza rima. (So says Wikipedia & that happens to be correct.) I haven't been reading Frost lately, who is not a huge favorite. It's just my lazy, quick way to post a title that does not say "Oh my %#$@(*&, I have to go to a clinic overnight for this now." Not tonight but soon. I'm so floopy & weirded out that I probably cannot make it to Carol Gillot's reception this evening (see post below). Mimph. Whine. Snarl. Week's End post that will be, if not hilarious, then somehow funnier. (Tim Walker & yes, I'll find other photographs soon. Vogue UK 2006)

Update already - Breaking news from any number of literary listservs, etc. Oprah just announced that Freedom is her next book club choice Maybe I'll hop in to the Franzenphilia/phobia-festival after all.... No, I don't watch her anymore (in years). Yes, I read The Corrections the day it was published (OK, well it took a week to read & should be cut by 200+pages.) I'll be reading Freedom, too, I can't buy it at the moment.

I've started to feel sorry & concerned for Franzen's mental health now. Another reason for not sleeping. Oprah--how dare you? Couldn't you have consulted me & waited until next week? (For Antipodean pals...I don't know if it's published there yet, though it has been in UK. BTW, it cannot have gone unnoticed that The Oprah is on her way to Australia. Hold onto your hats. Oy.)

Paris Breakfasts in Washington, DC

Same photograph as GG blog...I'm only, oh, a week late. Still, if you're in DC (or will be), you might want to attend the opening reception tomorrow at 6.30pm for Carol Gillot of Paris Breakfasts. (Let me know if you'll be there...I'm still planning on it. You can email or tweet to juliethecat.) Below is from l'Alliance Française website because they already wrote it & I'm having a mini meltdown. (Paris sunset via places I wish I were tumblr. Good name.)

*****************
New York City–based watercolor artist Carol Gillott travels to Paris three or four times a year to soak up inspiration and shoot thousands of photos to paint from.

Her Alliance Française exhibit, Paris Façades, features her charming paintings of Parisien boulangeries and patisseries.

For the artist, the heart and soul of Paris is revealed at street level by its shop façades where “There's just as much glamour and mystery in the quotidien boulangerie or fruitier as the grand Michelin restaurant"

It is this bright contrast that makes Paris the perfect subject for Carol Gillot and her delightful watercolors of everyday Parisian scenes, from les boulangeries to les lèche-vitrines.

Visit carolgillott.com & www.parisbreakfast.com

Opening reception is free, but reservations are required. Call 202-234-7911 x31 for reservations.

Reservations will be accepted until 4pm the day of the event. The exhibit runs through 1 November 2010

My Business, With the Cloud

There is a new exhibit at the Corcoran Gallery of Art & I will see it (the title is same as post, I'm not that clever). I don't like to say anything until I have done so, but the reasons are vented below. (So you can stop reading if you're sick of venting. However, it is not political venting.) Here's the review in The Washington Post. Update: Really, really click through the first link. Spencer Finch is such a wonderful artist & the little video is well-done.

The above wasn't in the plan (such as it is) but Strasbourg & environs photo searches have made it clear that the new-to-me printer must be installed to scan personal ugly old photographs. Too many online are quite nice--too nice. They do not capture the way it was then; it's too cleaned up, too fancy. Isn't there something between falling apart & overly groomed artifice? Yes, of course.

I inside-my-head shrieked as dishevelled people ambled by an Amnesty Int'l table (where I was turned down more than once by Muslim-phobe liberals & left wingers about petition signing, so there ya go, oof. No one "side" has purchase on idiocy, though it leans heavily...oh I said, no political venting.). I felt a paragon of style in jeans, a clean linen shirt, & sandals. Seriously. My hair was brushed. What is it with Americans walking about in pajamas & disgusting, stinky footwear? I thought, wow, if we were in the poorest neighborhood in Rome, it wouldn't look like this. The junkies clean up more than these people. Believe me, there are a lot of slobs in Rome. But during a festival or on Sunday, people do put on clothes before leaving home.

So it would seem, Haughty Madame, that you are advocating shabbiness in towns, but not people? No, of course not. But some places I lived, visited quite often have spiffed up so much that it's off-putting, sterile. I can almost (almost!) understand people who visit those theme parks (& Las Vegas) & pretend that they're Europe.

There are a couple of good shots of what I want & I'll post those later. Seems that if I write poems & prose (not travel writing) about Strasbourg & Alsace, I'll have a market, if I can create it. (Tim Walker photograph via the Telegraph)

The Harmless, Necessary Cat

Julie the Cat's address is Giulia Geranium. Update--I'm going to switch this & make J the Tuesday poster cat. (Cheesed off at self that I didn't do that in the first place.) Then, I finally can go flip through September Vogue. Which was late--but not this late. ciao

Paris Awaits Pup

The Clever Pup will be visiting Paris soon. I await her distinct take on la belle Paris sans saccharine sentiment. (She will be solo.) Sibiliance. Susurrant. Silly Sunday. Pfhttt. Thwap. I can barely type. La Pup has already mapped out a few excellent walks.

In other breaking canine news, Benjy the Oracle on AUREA, has been visiting & granting everyone the benefit of his Dachsund Wisdom. He's another pup in Paris at the moment. (His maman is in Los Angeles. Don't ask, just go see.) Herewith, his latest postcard. Also, another amusing & fashionable pup is London's Posetta Baddog, Liberty London Girl's sister's dog. OK, it's funnier than that, see Chien Lunatique.

Yep, I'm goofing off. Oh, & on Giulia Geranium I'm hawking, uh, suggesting a fashion night thingy for charity...but mainly I wanted to re-use a beautiful photograph of an equally beautiful blue YSL coat.

So what are these photographs? Well, they are Paris gowns that are pretty but also funny, sorta fishy looking. (ah ouais). I think I'm so snippy ce soir because I can't watch Mad Men until it downloads in iTunes - tomorrow. Which means I must also avoid a related weakness, Basket of Kisses, the Supreme Mad Men Blog (says moi). It's written/wrangled by two smart, sassy sisters.

[fishy frocks by Louise Dahl-Wolfe via LIFE archives but also on myvintagevogue]

Week's End - Rosemary

That's for remembrance. It feels like it was last year, September 11, 2001. I had this pretty photograph from Design*Sponge in a photo folder. It's rosemary (no kidding) & the Shakespeare popped in. And then I thought, there...that is the way it runs...which is from Bellow's Herzog. Ian McEwan opens Saturday with a fairly long quote using that passage - to excellent effect. (Of course.) Which just means that I access too much free association & call it a post. Eh. Have a good weekend.

A Tea Party

"Of all the silly nonsense, this is the stupidest tea party I've ever been to in all my life"--Alice

Oh good grief. The news is so absurd that if it weren't so very dangerous, I might laugh.--a little. If you don't know what I'm talking about, congratulations. You have been in a dark theatre watching a totally cool (or dorky) film marathon. Here's what I'd like to know: what is your excuse for not inviting me?

Cheers to Maria Caterina who gave me early birthday gifts yesterday that are so super, I'm still dazed. I am indeed very fortunate--in spades.

I'm having computer problems, just in time for the laptop's first birthday. Of course. Deep breath. xo

Red Queen's Race

"Well, in our country," said Alice, still panting a little, "you'd generally get to somewhere else — if you run very fast for a long time, as we've been doing."-Through the Looking Glass, Lewis Carroll

In Moments of Quiet

“Now, it isn’t that I don’t like you, Susan because after all, in moments of quiet, I’m strangely drawn towards you… but there haven’t been any quiet moments.” -Cary Grant as Dr. David Huxley, Bringing Up Baby, 1938

Several boyfriends know just how Cary feels. (They're still my friends, though. I think that speaks well of me. And Julie is nothing like that naughty Baby.) Only Cary could look handsome wearing Kate Hepburn's clothes.

I had photographs of people running, but nothing quite does it today. I'm running only in my mind. I was an unofficial cop (again!) on Saturday, feeling tottery, & in clothes not fit to be seen - maybe even by Julie the Cat. I stayed up too late rereading Enduring Love because Marie-Laure at AUREA is reading it & I wanted to discuss it with someone. This completely undid the relaxation of re-watching Annie Hall.

And (her voice rising), I'm being tempted by a friend: Do you want your birthday gift on Wednesday or on your birthday? Oh no. Decisions. Could you resist this? "I battled Huns, Goths, Mongols, Vikings, Zulus, Picts, and Celts...at...to...obtain.."

So, I'm posting dumber stuff than usual for a week if you want to skip checking in. I need to maintain a schedule & this is why I'm not 'gone fishing'. As always, there are good links here & on Giulia Geranium. I've seen so many good posts today & over the weekend that if I link to them, the feedburner thingy will blow up both blogs.

(But I recommend checking out the Truthiness Rally - or Operation Strike of Truthiness--this is a fluid story-- by Stephen Colbert fans. It really does help to laugh. Aussie & European friends, it really is funny & not just American. Friends in Turkey & elsewhere who can't understand English, if you're translating this, facial expressions are funny, too. As evidenced by the film stills above.)

Cheers & I'll do better tomorrow. Really.

[photograph via many tumblrs, here]

Week's End - Fiammetta

It's too soon for autumn leaves but the photograph reminds me of fiammetta - little flame. Or, if you want to be picky about it, fiammette (plural, I am assuming & I'm not checking my dictionary. Correct me, I don't mind at all.) I've been reading Boccaccio via Keats (Isabella and the Pot of Basil). I was vaguely aware that Bocaccio was another Italian inspired by a woman who didn't look at him twice. (Petrarch, too.)

This past spring, I won La Bella Lingua by Dianne Hales from Michelle Fabio's Bleeding Espresso. Dianne wrote a charming chapter on Italian's Literary Lions. As soon as I read, "For years I barely glanced at the white marble busts of Italy's grandi that line the shady paths of Rome's Pincio, the gardens above the Piazza del Popolo," I thought/yelled "I noticed!" But Dianne was doing something I have never done in Rome--jogged. I salute her - it's a great place to run.

I'm in more fragile health & feeling Keats-y, so if there today, I'd be walking by that gorgeous view & sighing. Mainly about the horrible news from Italy & France that Roma are being treated worse than usual. I'm beyond upset. (You just knew I'd turn this into something sad, right? An editor once said to me...you turn a lovely poem into the apocalypse every damn time. Crikey. -- he was English. Then he went on to say something rude about melancholic Welsh ethnic stuff. Harumph.)

Where are the writers, the artists, the poets, the philosophers? (They are actually still valued in some fashion in Europe, unlike here in America.) Well, there are protests, yes. I'll find individual names as soon as I post this. But Italy. France. Shame. Your noble pasts will be so much cold marble statuary lining grand avenues if you continue this outrage. We'll leave WWII out of this, ahem, for now. (I'm talking to you, too, Hungary.) Scapegoats. Remind you of anything? Suddenly, flaming red maples, little flames licking at the blue sky don't seem so innocent.

Apologies to Dianne, for using her charming love letter to Italian in this manner. I did not plan it (obviously, or I'd taken more care with grammar). But that's it; I can't do much more today or the rest of the weekend. Here's where you can buy it (& visit Dianne). I definitely recommend it. This know-it-all didn't know most of it (so far). Giulia Geranium is supposed to start again on Tuesday; but I'm postponing it until I see friends off to Sudan next Sunday.

(The beautiful Jen Gotch photograph via Joanna Goddard's Cup of Jo)

Wire Hangers, Reconsidered

...a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet...-Howl

So much angst about wire hangers. Oy. This is Tim Walker's wire hanger. Here's a Design*Sponge idea for people who have far more energy & time than me...but it's good idea. (Personally, I take my hangers back to the cleaners.)

I'm way behind in everything. And I'm still wondering what people think about those who to take it all the way to the end. (previous post) Back later...

PS: I never saw Mommie, Dearest. I think I was out of the country when it hit (sorry) the screens, by the time I returned I thought--ugh. Perhaps it's something campy I ought to rent in a particularly maso-kitty moment?

All the Way to the End

"Surely all art is the result of one's having been in danger, of having gone through an experience all the way to the end, where no one can go any further. The further one goes, the more private, the more personal, the more singular an experience becomes, and the thing one is making is, finally, the necessary, irrepressible, and, as nearly as possible, definitive utterance of this singularity." --Rainer Maria Rilke

I'm running out of steam for the week, but I've been thinking about Ted Hughes' theory that all art originates from a wound in the artist. He does a better job of 'esplaining it. But Rilke certainly will do.

I heard from a friend today in Prague (he's been living with his wife Vera in an apartment in Prague Castle that Václav Havel arranged for them. It didn't even faze me - of course, you're living in the Castle. I'd already heard but didn't want to spoil his moment.) He is a novelist & filmmaker & friend of perv Milan Kundera. When The Unbearable Lightness of Being was released as book (& then as film later), I asked Arnošt. Well? "Exactly, exactly how it was. That bastard, he did it!" Then he picked me up & whirled me around the room.

It was/is a tight circle of friends/frenemies & a highly competitive bunch, of course: writers, painters, photographers, filmmakers, journos, etc. They supported the "wrong" person in 1968 & were invited to leave. Kundera's success spurred them all on (including director Miloš Forman). I hope someone writes a book about this gang of devils. (There are more.)

Arnošt & Vera lent me 'the borrowed flat' in Jerusalem for many weekends. They sat with me in the - I am not kidding - Elizabeth Taylor Cafeteria...or maybe it was the Frank Sinatra cafeteria (there were two) & tried to make me laugh. One time I got in a car with them. Only once. I was in the back seat with an old friend who then lived in Israel. He started to laugh hysterically...maybe it was the idea of the two of us tootling around the city with our friend--who should never drive (do you hear me, A?) anywhere. Ever. I accessed my "if I go, I go" attitude used to good effect in Greek & Italian taxis. Anyway, those wild & crazy Czechs, they lent me the flat for which I'll be eternally grateful. Now I want to stay at Prague Castle.

Here's to brave people - who, amazingly, miraculously laugh (with a large side of irony). And take it all the way to the end.

[two stills from Unbearable Lightness of Being, still photographer-genius Phil Bray; the "real" iconic photograph via filmwell(dot)org]

Les bois

I had to put something else up. Too tired to find a poem (much less write one or write an essay/post) on solipsism (not the philosophical theory...the selfish bit). It's been a horrible time in our Silver Spring neighborhood (the Discovery Channel hostage situation).

Look at That Face

Look at that face -
Just look at it,
Look at that fabulous face of yours.
I knew first look I took at it,
This was the face that the world adores.

Look at those eyes -
As wise and as deep as the sea.
Look at that nose -
It shows what a nose should be.--The Roar of the Greasepaint --the Smell of the Crowd*

(*lyrics & music by Leslie Briscusse & Anthony Newley)

I want to get September started. Unwisely, I began by reading September 1, 1939 by WH Auden. (A poem he came to loathe & caused all manner of fuss about--something he was quite good at. Poets are such pains in the rear sometimes. I'm a pain in the rear. Haven't you noticed?) It's a poem included in many services, secular (yes, there are those kind) & otherwise, after September 11, 2001. I read it at one. I defended my clichéd choice on the following grounds: "It's only been a few days. There's still smoke in the freaking air. I can't think of anything else & five people are arguing in the corner about who gets to read "The Second Coming".

With all of that swirling in my head, plus Hurricane Earl chugging up the coast, I thought cute cat faces from this slightly altered Giulia Geranium post would be fun. As if on cue, a big wet pink feline nose is nudging me to hurry up already.

[images here, here, here, & here via we heart it]