January 17, 2022

It's been a really good last few days. On Wednesday, I went out to drinks with a friend. On Thursday, my husband and I went to République, a French restaurant in Mid City. It's gotten lots and lots of reviews, and it keeps showing up on internet lists and stuff, so I chose it as the fancy restaurant to go blow a bunch of money on as a celebration of selling Helen's Dead. We got the full deal -- many courses -- and while the tuna tartare with caviar (what?) was the best, the one that blew me away most, based on my initial expectations, was a dish called "The Lettuces." It was a salad comprised almost entirely of lettuces, but it was the most lush, tasty, and beautiful of greenery that I have ever seen or tasted. I would go back and just get the lettuces, easy. (The tuna made me want to pump my fists over my head and run around the restaurant screaming, "We did it!" So yeah, that was good too.) 

Friday, we went over to a friend's house. He made lamb burgers. Saturday, I went on set for a little bit. (They're shooting Helen's Dead pickups.) Then my husband and I went up to friends' house who has a hot tub. We had smoked brisket and sat in the hot tub and drank, then we spent the night. On Sunday I went to lyra and had a nice time. (I've been loving lyra lately.) It's been the fucking life! 

MLog Time! 

Oh yeah, on Friday, I also watched 8 Women and loved it. Here is my review. 

**SPOILERS**

8 WOMEN 

2002

Directed by: François Ozon

Written by: François Ozon, Marina de Van

Based on: Huit Femmes by Robert Thomas

Watched: 1/14/2022

A wealthy man is surrounded by women. One of his daughters (Suzon) comes home from college for the winter holiday. It’s snowing, and access to/from the large house soon becomes untenable. Suzon’s mother, Gaby, is there as well as Gaby’s spinster sister, Augustine, and mother, Mamy. Suzon’s younger sister lives there as well, along with the long-time cook, Chanel, and the new chambermaid, Louise. The wealthy’s man’s sister, Pierrette, also arrives. The women find the wealthy man dead, stabbed in the back. The phone lines are cut. The snow’s too bad to leave. We find out a bunch about the women in the house. Pierrette was/is a dancer/loose woman of ill repute and has come to ask her brother for money. She’s also been showing up at Chanel’s cottage late at night to play cards and have sex. Suzon is pregnant, and the wealthy man isn’t her real father. Gaby was pregnant with another man’s child when she got married. The other man died shortly afterwards. Suzon says she’s actually been impregnated by the wealthy man (??!). Augustine secretly reads romance novels and pines for the wealthy man. Louise has been sleeping with the wealthy man but secretly pines for Gaby. Pierrette and Gaby fight and then end up making out on the floor. The younger sister, Catherine, in the end admits to have been up listening to everything that went on during the night. She felt bad for her papa and convinced him to stage his own death so that all of the lies and bad behavior of the women in his household will come out. When everything is revealed, the wealthy man shoots himself in the head. Oh, and there’s singing throughout. 

The singing and dancing was the most ridiculous part. Every time it started up, I could barely believe it. What the fuck is this? The art design of this movie was beautiful. Everything was full of rich jewel tones. The clothes were gorgeous. The acting was superb. The shots were both beautiful and comic. It was all light and ridiculous and by the time it got to the end, I didn’t care about the murder or how they were going to wrap it up. And it ended great. I was completely sold on this movie. It made me feel great. I’ve never seen anything quite like it, and I want to start pushing it on everyone I know. One to watch again for sure. 

Rating: ★★★★★

January 12, 2022

I've realized that what I need is a dopamine hit. The dopamine hit from excitement. From finding out that your crush likes you, or likes you enough that things might get on a little bit. From traveling to a new place and hearing the babble of other languages around you. Seeing unfamiliar rooftops and the impact of new skyscrapers on the sky. A good scream or a fight or a night of dancing where you lose your voice from shouting to your one friend and you lose your body in the sweaty mass of other bodies. High octane dopamine. Something to come down off of. 

It's hard to tend to the part of myself that needs that. I haven't made it a priority. I ordered the Lonely Planet book for Mexico. We have a whole other country right here. I'm reading more Eve Babitz, with a plan to read American Psycho. Something racy. At lyra I hang upside down and try to look beautiful. I could put on makeup tonight for drinks with my friend. What else? What else? A trip to the beach. Rollerskating the strand. That scares the shit out of me because I almost always nearly fall. Too much energy. I know people are tired, but I'm like the opposite. I have too much and don't know where to put it. My mind wants to grab onto something electric that will go and go.  

January 11, 2022

I attended a Tea with Alice Salon tonight. It's hard to overstate how nice those have been. Interesting people get attracted to Alice Fraser's comedy. I guess they have to be somewhat well off as well in order to be a $15/month Patreonite. They're people I only know in this context. They're from all over the world. I was able to go to a salon the night I finished the first day of shooting Helen's Dead. It was 1AM. Maybe 2AM. It was special to get to share the news with them. 

Tonight, Alice asked if I was over the moon. If we were done filming. I talked about how I've been feeling. Stressed. Like it's both mine to lose and I have to hit the lotto jackpot AGAIN to do anything more with it. She told us about a friend of hers (who she calls Joseph), who while coding, occasionally stands up from his computer and says, "I'm a golden god!" She told me to do that for a bit. I've gotten a movie made. 

I'm a golden god. 

BLog Time! 

**SPOILERS**

Spiner, Brent – FAN FICTION

Published: 2021

Read: 1/2022

This is a fictionalized noir memoir of Spiner’s time as Commander Data on Star Trek Next Generation. It all starts when a fan mails him a pig penis cased in blood. With it is a letter from his daughter “Lal”, inspired by the character in the episode called The Offspring. He’s protected by identical twin knock outs, one an FBI agent, the other a body guard. He hooks up with the body guard. He gets letters from Loretta, a housewife in Canada who thinks that Brent has been calling her late at night and talking dirty. The threats continue. They learn that a psychiatric patient has escaped and probably come to LA – she’s a crazy fan. There’s a woman at the video rental store who calls herself “Mrs. Spiner” and who gets mowed down by a car. Brent hooks up with his body guard but feels conflicted. He thinks he might be best suited for the FBI agent. In the end, Lal ends up being the psychiatrist from that one clinic. She shows up with a knife, after having knocked out the body guard with chloroform, and is about to kill Spiner when Loretta enters and shoots the would be killer. Spiner never tells the cops the identity of the shooter (although how he knew it was Loretta at all is a mystery). I think up to that point he had only gotten letters from her. Ah, maybe one included a picture. 

I’m going to give this book three stars because, while not all that good, I appreciate that it was written specifically for me. I listened to the audiobook, and they get Patrick Stewart, Jonathan Frakes, Marina Sirtis, Gates McFadden, Levar Burton, and Michael Dorn. You get to hear Levar Burton say “motherfucker.” There’s sex and alcohol and occasional swearing. There are also jokes. I love a noir. The twin thing was stupid and great. Everybody being in love with Spiner was great. There was a description of Gene Roddenbury’s funeral, which I bet is more or less true. I love that show, man. I love that cast. I’m glad this book exists. I wouldn’t recommend it to my dad because it’s stupid and the swearing and sex. But that’s okay because it wasn’t written for him. It was written for me. 

Rating: ★★★

 

January 9, 2021

Yesterday, I jumped my neighbor's car. I'd never jumped a car before, and he and I stood on the landing outside his apartment's garage to get reception. The Youtube videos weren't agreeing with each other, so I called my dad. What he said made sense, so we did it that way. This neighbor is the most spastic person I know. He shocked himself on our patio lights once, the strand having one lightbulb not in its socket. A different time he slammed his own thumb in our front door and then passed out. If anyone was going to die from jumping a car battery, it would be him. Even still, I was a chicken and had him do it. I stood back with my hands over my ears (to block out the sound of him screaming in agony) while he connected the cables. He didn't die or even get injured. A bit of excitement in my day. 

My husband and I went downtown to check out the central library. We parked, and while we were walking saw a fully naked man shouting and running down the sidewalk. You see a lot downtown, but that was the first time I had seen that.  

Adding that two of our friends were in Jordan (where their families are from) over Christmas and New Years. They brought us back baklava, and it was beautiful. 

January 7, 2021

I've had topics written down in my Panda Planner for three days straight. I keep transposing them onto the next day. My planner is in my backpack across the room. So maybe I will talk about those topics. Maybe I won't. 

I watched the Jean-Michel Basquiat documentary the other night ("The Radiant Child"). Basquait came to New York in the late 1970s, and the doc mentions how artists then and there did everything. They painted, wrote, played in bands. It sounded really nice. Patti Smith talked about that in her book as well. She and Mapplethorpe did everything. It sounds nice. I'd like to do that. I know I can do that. But it seems like an impediment to "artistic success." To being able to get together a specific portfolio. Also, it would be nice if a bunch of people were doing it. (I was going to say "everyone" but ha. What am I talking about.) It feels risky to be taking time doing all that. Photography, painting, guitar or something. Just do it if you want to, Amy. I know. Sheesh. Whatever. 

On my walk to work, I was thinking back to that tour in the botanical garden and how they showed us the ferns that don't flower because they were around prior to the evolution of flowers. If you were able to time travel, it might be cool to go back to the blooming of the very first flower. (Although flowers probably came about so gradually that the first recognizable "flower" would look like a pink leafy gland or something.) Talk about a success. We, humans, are still enthralled by them. Putting prints of them on cool hoodies and stuff. The advent of a true blockbuster. The first plant that flowered could truly truly get it. 

I don't think the flower thing was even one of my three topics. 

Omicron variant is going crazy these days. My husband and I are going over to a friend's house for dinner. Potentially dicey. Pickups for Helen's Dead got pushed a week, otherwise I'd be on set this weekend. I've been trying to be focused and settled in my life lately, but it's hard. I feel two ways about it -- both that if you look closely everything is interesting, enough to appreciate and enjoy forever, and it feels like nothing really matters, that it will be impossible to ever be satisfied. That everything is dull with only brief peaks of worthwhile excitement. Okay, time to go. 

January 4, 2021

 I've had several times in my life where I make a decision in the day and then feel deeply ashamed of it at night and worried that everything is going to crumble around me. Then the next day I feel fine about that decision and continue on my course, then at night feel nearly sickened with anxiety. It happened to me again recently, and I finally noticed the day/night pattern. During the day = fine. During the night = awful. It was comforting to realize it might be the product of anxiety. I'm not saying that I shouldn't listen to my nightly fears at all -- there's probably some wisdom in them -- but it's probably skewed by anxiety, by the dark, by an over-churned brain. It's like I have two people (at least) inside of me. One is an adventurer, a risk-taker, a bold pleasure-seeker, and the other is reserved, quiet, a conservative, a person who's primary goal is to keep the things she already has rather than stretching out for anything new. Both useful and to be heeded. I'm hoping that I can compromise between them better so that both are somewhat satisfied. 

Blog time! 

**SPOILERS**

Moss, Sarah – SUMMERWATER

Published: 2021

Read: 1/2022

This novel takes place over one rainy day in rural Scotland. It’s an area with summer cabins, and everyone there is on holiday. It’s raining a lot. We see through the eyes of various characters: a woman running before her husband and children wake up, a teenaged boy who nearly catches hypothermia while kayaking, his sulking sister who keeps secretly visiting an older soldier who lives in a tent, a young engaged couple, a little boy and a little girl. A reoccurring detail is that there’s a cabin full of outsiders – foreigners from Ukraine – who party late at night and keep everyone up. That night, the partiers are at it again, and people from the little neighborhood show up to ask them to be quiet – and end of joining – or in the case of the young couple bring with them a bottle of wine to join. The little girl, who’s sociopathic and has heard her parents complaining about the foreigners, lights the cabin on fire. It goes up quickly, and the woman who owns it and her young daughter are trapped inside. 

This book was quite short, and I liked a lot of it. The internal lives of the characters is interesting, well drawn, relatable, rife with anxiety. It feels like being inside someone else’s skin. Interestingly, we never see the inside of the Ukrainian woman or her daughter. The two victims in the story are the ones we’re never able to identify with directly like that (unless I misread). I wonder why the author structured it that way. I’m going to give the book an average score just because the story all together didn’t have the momentum I would have liked to have felt. When things fall apart they just kind of happen. The story doesn’t seem to build and build to that moment. Most of the way through the book I figured maybe nothing would happen, nothing dramatic anyway. The book lacks suspense, and without it I think it’s good but not great. 

Rating: ★★★

January 3, 2021

For New Years Eve, my husband, brother-in-law, and I went up to hang out with my friend in Seattle. My husband and I had gotten those COVID take-home tests (like I mentioned). Friend had requested it as a precaution. We had driven around for an hour and a half to track them down. When we went to get brother-in-law a test, they were out of them everywhere we went (two places). The brother-in-law is having a tough time, and leaving him somewhere by himself didn't seem like an option. So I told everybody we were going to lie and say he turned out negative. This is a very Christian pair of individuals, so it was a little bit scandalous. But my take on my friend was that she was more concerned about doing the responsible thing (making sure we all tested negative before we hung out) rather than being actually worried about getting COVID. None of us had symptoms or any knowledge of exposure, I should say. I knew if we told her we didn't get the brother tested, she'd have to choose between being responsible and having to disappoint us. It felt like passing the buck. So we were like Yep! All good! And the evening was nice. 

It's been wild being back. Have an opportunity to work with the same director on another project. (We'll see how that goes.) Also I might be able to collaborate on something new with one of the actors?? That's stressful. My friends' first response about it was, "Does he know you're married?" My relationship status hasn't come up, but I'm counting on my somewhat lackluster appearance. I'm really a much better writer than gorgeous human woman. I don't feel bad about it. Like Eve Babitz wrote, "I'm beautiful enough." Oh god, speaking of Eve Babitz, I need to write a BLog. 

Blog Time! 

Babitz, Eve – EVE’S HOLLYWOOD

Published: 1974

Read: 01/2021

Eve Babitz died on 12/17/21. I had never heard of her. I read an article in the LA Times by Christina Catherine Martinez commemorating her, and I’d rush to try out anything Martinez recommends, honestly. Eve was a native Angelino, a Jewish girl growing up in the ‘50s and ‘60s, Stravinsky’s goddaughter. She’s an adventuress. This book is essays on things like the Watts Towers, a chicken who lived up the street, books, Ranier Ale, gorgeous girls in high school. I’m just now looking her up on Wikipedia, and it mentions her impact on Jia Tolentino. Tolentino is a very good comp for Babitz. 

I loved this book. Several of the essays/stories I listened to twice, just played that chapter again once it was done. She advises that people make sure their desires are enormous, life being what it is. She talks about grammar and drawing and concludes, “If I knew how not to draw a face, I might be doing that instead.” Her prose is exciting. She chops sentences right in the middle with unexpected words like “secretly.” I bought the physical copy – it’s coming in the mail – so I could get quotes down exactly. 

I’ve been feeling restless lately. I want to move somewhere new; get a new lover; see something amazing; get that thrill of everything coming up Amy. Reading this book has made me think about how I’m a childfree 34 year old with a part-time job and a padding of money in one of the biggest cities in America and a cultural center in the world. I could just get out there and see it. Write it down, make it up, like Eve. Approach it with big eyes and an empty stomach. Get at the glitter of it all. 

Rating: ★★★★★