people are afraid to merge on freeways in los angeles

a window on the world -

middle of the country -

on the way to the west coast.

very beginning of the trip,

enroute to los angeles.

my mimosa;

first,

second,

or third?

cannot recall.

also,

a bit of light reading.

beautiful mountains,

about an hour from landing at lax.

the trees of santa monica.

no,

mr. fred,

we love you.

book of egon shiele's letters,

with an awesome,

somewhat cryptic,

message on a beginning page:

"my promenade leads me over the abyss."

essentials by the ritz pool:

lemon-infused water,

ipod,

spf 25 sunblock,

dark glasses,

"red house" by sarah messer,

and an industrial strength bloody mary -

the last of two.

on my first visit,

i read "less than zero."

i had wanted,

very much,

to read bret eason ellis' latest,

"imperial bedrooms."

after all,

how perfectly west coast,

how perfectly l.a.,

how perfectly indulgent.

as it happened,

this didn't happen,

so made headway with messer's "red house,"

and was just as pleased.

another essential,

a packable,

crushable,

(almost) foldable,

affordable,

nearly indestructible,

straw hat.

courtesy of my friends at a little place,

a little place,

called the gap.

a delicious mojito at the ivy,

resting atop their cook/memory/coffee-table book.

easily,

one of the best mojitos i've ever had,

and besides,

what a wonderfully refreshing way to start dinner.

beautiful flowers at the ivy.

i was asked to return them to their rightful place,

after having gotten as far as the curb,

with them strategically hidden under a friend's wrap.

(not really.)

i only made it to the door...

a colorful,

yet simple way,

to arrange and set a table.

notice the centerpieces,

colorful roses and baskets of lemons and limes.

awesome animated (miniature) big band.

after reading ann magnuson's l.a. woman in paper magazine,

i was desperate on my first trip to l.a.,

to discover this valhala she spoke of -

silver lake -

the closest i got was griffith observatory,

and getting lost for 45 minutes around the reservoir...

this time,

however,

was a different story.

met a dear friend for lunch at cafe stella,
and finally made it!

another simple-simple-simple centerpiece,
with leaves ever so soft.
the also had a delicious cucumber-ade drink that i wish i had right now.
perhaps another venture out west sooner rather than later?

my sinful croque madame at cafe stella.

my friend's hand with their perfectly bombshell red painted nails,

holding an iced something-or-other from intelligentsia.

more red.
appropos for the week of the fourth of july.

aloft the great city of los angeles.

view from the hills at the top of mulholland.

fun ride during the day;

potentially quite dangerous once night falls.

a friend in the car said he needed a dramamine.

it was quite roller-coaster like,

and admittedly,

with me behind the wheel,

i suspect it was not unlike mr. toad's wild ride...

what really terrific lines,

what calming colors,

really perfect and so california.

what a great place to live...

this is the home i chose to lay my hat,

if given the choice.

i did find it difficult to leave l.a. this time.

repeatedly,

i would imagine settling in,

not returning to my beloved east coast,

and starting out fresh someplace anew.

above and below,
two favored pieces at a home where i spent july 4th:
a beautiful bombay chess table with chairs,
and a vibrant modernist still life.
again as at the ivy,
got as far as the door before being asked to return the painting...

remnant of a party.
clue to a good time.

last night:

the fourth of july.

we celebrated our independence.

marina del rey put on a lovely display of colors and patriotism.

later in the night,

after packing,

i went downstairs to the hotel pool,

and relaxed in the hot tub.

a young woman in an american flag bikini was there,

celebrating her 30th birthday with friends.

put on your red shoes and dance the blues

earlier this year,
i saw a refurbished "the red shoes" at the film forum,
and i was charmed beyond words.
the film took me right in,
and i wondered why i'd waited to see it.
i remember i had planned to wear my red shoes,
but it was wet out,
and alas dear reader,
the red shoes are suede.
this accident-waiting-to-happen was not an option,
so the red shoes remained home.


a close up of vicky's dangerous ballet slippers in "the red shoes."

photo courtesy of (pilfered from) verdoux,

whose post is informative and features some great photos.

http://verdoux.wordpress.com/2007/12/11/the-red-shoes-1948/

"time rushes by, love rushes by, life rushes by, but the red shoes dance on."

- lermontov of "the red shoes"

diana vreeland was obsessed with red;

according to her,

the best shade can be found on a child's cap in renaissance painting.

the color has long been a symbol in literature and film and art,

used as a marker,

whether a letter of adultery or a riding hood or dancing slippers.

often times,

it's a harbinger of impending trouble,

but it also means that an adventure is implicit,

and that's the exciting part.

i think that's why people are attracted to it.

case and point,

danger and adventure.

i only discovered kate bush's song a year or two ago,

but now whenever i see a pair of red shoes,

i think:

"oh the the minute i put them on,

i knew i had done something wrong."

but i also think:

"put them on and your dream'll come true."

most likely,
the world's best known red...
or um,
should i say,
ruby hued shoes.

in the oz series by l. frank baum,
dorothy's slippers were actually silver.
according to film lore,
the silver notion was dismissed,
in favor of a more technicolor friendly color,
something vivid and striking,
which would translate well.
that something was red.

just imagine,
if the film had been done in black and white,
with shirley temple as dorothy,
incessantly tap-tap-tap-tapping in silver shoes,
"the wizard of oz" would've been completely different.
millions of children wouldn't've grown up with "over the rainbow."



life imitating art.
(shoes are the artist's own.)

i looked for a pair of perfect red shoes for years -

literally years -

it wasn't just that they're different or striking,

it's the idea of fantasy behind them.

in one story,

they danced the girl to death,

in another,

they took her home.

maybe mine will take me on an adventure,

and then to the opposite side of the hudson.

with my luck,

they'll throw me in front of a train...

reading material

stack of books on the nightstand.
not always my favorite,
not always what is currently being read,
but always an interest -
something to be read up on -
or a story to be kept close.

on some level,
conscious or subconscious,
the books represent whatever i'm channeling,
or in the case of "alex,"
something i'm trying to channel.
kinda hippy dippy,
no?

from bottom to top:

a biography of the ballet dancer moira shearer,
who played vicky in "the red shoes,"
(more on that subject later);

a birthday gift from a close friend,
the unfinished novel "answered prayers" by tru heart;

a wonderfully interesting book called "children of the sun,"
about the generation between the world wars,
the bright young people in england,
about their heady youth and bedraggled ends.
found this one somewhere in boston,
what a superb title as well;

a biography about conde nast editor alexander liberman,
a man of incredible struggles and incredible chic,
signed by the man himself.
co-written by calvin tomkins,
i found this at the left bank bookstore,
before they moved to 8th avenue;

and lastly,
the book of poems "a shropshire lad" by a. e. housman,
the others will surely come and go,
but i think this one will remain.

hats and gloves and shoulder pads, oh my.

care of http://nymag.com/daily/entertainment/2010/04/mildred_pierce_on-set.html#photo=11x46268

at the end of april,
i read hbo was filming a mini-series remake of mildred pierce,
with kate winslet.

they must still be filming.
meandering downtown tuesday night with a friend,
and feasting royally on our grom gelato,
(dark chocolate and raspberry),
we noticed bright klieg lights off of 6th avenue.
being naturally curious,
(read: nosy),
we decided to casually stroll by...
three times.

eventually,
i asked a small group of waiting extras,
if this was the mildred pierce project.
judging that they were in full vintage bregalia -
i figured it was a safe assumption -
and was right.


photo care of friend's camera phone,
(please forgive subpar quality.)

hats and gloves for sure,
but it seems as if the film is set in the thirties,
perhaps in the midst of the depression,
so let's not count on those shoulder pads.
joan crawford may be rolling over in her grave.

pie, pie, pie

"pie pie pie" from 2010 by me.
life imitating art.

recently went for lunch at a favorite eatery in town,
called raymond's,
on church street in downtown montclair.
funnily enough it is named after it's owner,
raymond.
i've been going since i was a little boy,
and it was a few stores down,
the shape and near proportions of a shoebox.

i've been awaiting their fresh blueberry pie since last summer.
i asked in vain in november,
then in january,
then in march.
i then asked last week,
but to no avail.
it is finally the season for it.
the piece is a generous portion,
as is apparent,
and is also $6.50 worth of heaven on a plate.
i was so concerned they'd run out,
that i ordered a piece before ordering the actual meal!

what a lovely way to start the summer;
what a lovely way to spend the summer;
and what a lovely way to end the summer.

something tells me,
i'll be having a vast amount of blueberries this summer.



"pies pies pies" from 1961 by wayne thiebaud.
art imitating life.

below,
a progression from start to inevitable finish.






that is,
as they say,
the plate.

http://raymondsnj.com/

today's letter is brought to us by c

actually,
i believe that c is for coolbirth.

this lithograph is by william nicholson,
it's one of a set ranging from -
you got it -
a to z.

a single one ranges anywhere from $130.00 to $200.00;
therefore,
it will remain on my wish list...
or rather,
my covet list.
(see below.)

coveted

it may be a cardinal sin to covet,
but if it indeed is,
don't show me the way to righteousness.



interesting dish (partial) set found at the hell's kitchen flea market.
perfect for that "starter" apartment;
but since i have no apartment to start,
i left them for the next starter upper.



beautiful parrot green adam kimmel scarf in barney's window,
with sign for clarification below:




a witty and funny print,
found whilst loitering on the home floor of bergdorf goodman.
still smarting from the $25.00 gotham salad though,
i neglected to enquire about the price.
another time,
another life.

new york state of mind ii

self-explanatory icing on the best carrot cake,
and i don't even like carrot cake...

as a final goodbye,
so long,
last hurrah,
what you will,
the good people of the empire diner,
decided to throw a goodbye party.
in attendance were:
longtime patrons and relatively new ones (me),
servers from long ago and current ones,
and everyone in between.

everything was on the house,
the smiles came easily,
conversations became boisterous,
memories were revisited,
and people lingered.
it was as it should have been.




one of the waitresses,
circa 1979,
shortly after the diner opened,
giving an interview to ny1.
there was a collection of three,
each in black and funky jewelry,
with fascinating stories.
one met her first husband there.
anther remembered numerous limousines after hours,
and jerry hall,
or was it bianca jagger,
eating in a large party at one end.

there were sad stories too though.
out of three original owners,
one died of cancer,
and the other from aids.
all were spoken well of and remembered fondly.

as a young kid,
running in and our at all hours,
laughing too loudly with friends,
i could've guessed at the fun tales,
but did not know the sad ones.



the first piano player,
on the extreme left,
overcome by sun.
in the middle,
someone playing for kicks that day,
and on the right,
a patron,
(in the great scarf),
who's first meal in america -
i'd heard him admit -
was at the empire.




one of the handful of owners -
i believe -
spiking the punch.
earlier,
it had been rum.



then,
before we knew it,
the cake had been cut and eaten,
the drinks had been finished,
and the day was close to running out.
it was time to go.

where the sidewalk is divided

new york,
what are you trying to say?

i understand the humor in the lanes.
to a point.
tourists are known to meander,
look up and take photographs -
and all quite slowly.

stuck behind a collection of japanese tourists,
or an italian family or a gorgeous brazilian couple,
maybe even a small french family with young children,
i myself have been annoyed.

i doubt if i could any longer qualify as a tourist.
day tripper would be a more accurate term.
and just so you know,
new york,
some of your ilk get in my way.

http://nymag.com/daily/intel/2010/05/tourist_sidewalk_lanes_actuall.html

empire state of mind

self-explanatory new yorker cover.

a last meal at the empire diner,
on thursday may 13, 2010.
i used to love going to empire diner,
and i'm sorry that it's closing.
and being replaced by a coffee shop franchise.




one of the best omelets ever,
it was perfect for a late night meal -
4 or 5 am -
after whatever bar or club i'd been to with friends,
or for breakfast at the actual start of the day.
ordering it became a pleasant habit,
a habit that i'm sorry must now come to an end.


a heart indeed.

dear diary

i am an abhorrent diarist...
perhaps this is not the correct word.
absent?
not completely though.
i've been a little laxed -
or is it just lax...
i've been a little lax.

in my defense,
i have been looking for a new job.
perhaps though,
i should stop looking,
and start applying.
with abandon.

i have no artwork to accompany this post,
and somehow feel a google-searched image of a diary,
or clip art of someone on a job search,
(figure of a man holding a presumed resume),
is somehow...
tacky.

their first new york

i've been obsessively reading these the last few days,
the stories are funny and touching,
mostly,
i think they're exciting.
they lend themselves to day-dreaming,
which i am apt to do anyway...

among my favorites:
graydon carter - 1978,
david rakoff - 1982.

and from the earlier incarnation:
diane von furstenberg - 1970,
lauren hutton - 1964,
mary boone - 1970,
amy sedaris - 1993.

excerpt:
maggie gyllenhaal - 1995.

i grew up in l.a. and moved back here to go to college at columbia, where i lived in the dorm for the first two years. i had a boyfriend who lived on ludlow street, and i couldn’t believe a place as alive and wild as that existed. i wanted to drop out of school and hang out there. my boyfriend had a teeny, tiny apartment that he shared with another guy. they had built bunk beds. and i would sleep over. the roommate would still be there, but we figured it out, like you do when you’re that age. we would use the pink pony like it was our kitchen and living room. i felt it was such a great way to live. i don’t know how I’d manage that now.

http://nymag.com/news/features/64944/
http://nymag.com/news/features/56014/

home is a four letter word

new york times article,
"facing a financial pinch,
and moving in with mom and dad,"
puts down in cold hard numbers,
the plight of the boomeranger:
the recently graduated,
out of work or under-employed,
broke,
in debt,
lost and at loose ends,
twenty-something -
the returned prodigal child.

boomeranger,
i suppose i can add yet another label to the pyre.

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/22/nyregion/22singles.html

day trip - 03.13.10-03.14.10

i ventured out saturday evening,
much against the protestations of family.
admittedly,
it was a fierce storm,
but i was determined.



had dinner at juliette on north 5th street in williamsburg.
i ordered white bean and spinage pureed soup,
and a huge bowl of simple and delicious mussels.
the weather required a goodly amount of red wine,
so my friend and i indulged.

the feeling is unlike the keith mcnally experience.
it'st been outfitted with cast offs from original european cafes,
so it has a genuine tone.
i half expected sylvia beach to complain about my wet umbrella.



next morning,
my friend and i went to the otto dix exhibit at the neue galerie.
i enjoyed it,
though something tells me he had issues with the female gender.
afterward,
we went to the man ray exhibit at the jewish museum,
on its last day and at the latest possible time.
story of my life.
i enjoyed it,
especially because it featured paintings,
as well as photos and "rayographs,"
but was disappointed my favorite wasn't on display:
a l'heure de l'observatoire - lex amoureux.



we went back to the neue for a light supper,
(not so light it turned out),
at the cafe sabarsky.
as always,
the meal was very good,
finished with their excellent hot chocolate and rehrucken,
a chocolate marzipan cake with orange confiture.
quite good.

easy, breezy

isn't this a great idea?
the man who wrote this piece,
miguel androver,
combined form and function,
and wore this when traveling.
apparently,
it is not strictly relegated to plane travel,
either.

i wish i had the cajones to pull it off,
i have an indian tunic that hits mid-thigh,
which i can't quite bring myself to wear over dungarees,
and definitely not in new jersey...

http://tmagazine.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/03/16/multi-culti/

snow and hyacinths

i love that last weekend there was snow outside,
and this was the view from my window,
now a week later,
it's a balmy 55 degrees and sunny.
snow is melting and the hyacinths have pushed to the surface.