Mother Nature Literally Grounds Burning Man 😂
Well, more like 'burning smelly teenage boy' if we're being honest. Is it possible to stroke out from pure, unadulterated irony?
Hello, Lovelies,
How the hell are you? I still cannot kick this post-COVID fatigue. I walk 500 feet, then sleep for three hours. My Fitbit is DTing like an addict in full withdrawal. I’m pretty sure I owe it 9 million steps. It will just have to deal.
Yes, ruminating over the changing of the seasons made me think maybe I should undertake a Grace Kelly kind of bob and whatnot, so I was trying to poll the men in my life with photos of me from 30 years ago to get some sort of verdict. It was a hung jury. They had no opinion whatsoever. “Why are you bothering us with your hair?” Again, they are missing the whole Fleabag “Hair is Everything” rules of engagement protocol. Finally, I saw this picture from Bergdorf’s, and I thought I f*cking love plaid skirts and sparkly sweaters. They’re so sexy librarian, I can't possibly cut off my messy tresses. How would I ever do my bun?
You know if you really want to torture yourself, subscribe to Bergdorf’s newsletter. Roz Chast, the cartoonist from The New Yorker, actually goes in there once a week as a form of Zen Torquemada therapy. She can’t afford anything there either, but I think she considers it like a form of forest bathing. You know, immerse yourself in scads of fabulous fashion, soak it in, let it speak to you, darling, and somehow you will be elevated to a supreme state of blissed-out aesthetic betterment.
Yes, I simply inhaled that plaid skirt and knew I couldn't cut off my hair. Who would I be? My whole vibe is ‘sexy-librarian-who-might-have-just-ridden-in-here-on-a-horse-with-Proust-in-her-purse’! And I need those boots that are just chunky and sturdy enough to waterproof for the snow. No, I cannot afford them but in my head, they are already mine.
What else? You know when a story falls into your lap that is so juicy, you just want to channel all of your Ronan Farrow journalistic ethics and energy toward it, but you have a rom-com deadline? This one has all the hallmarks of celebrity dish, egoic, greasy greed, and international intrigue, but alas… I need to finish my novel about a woman’s quest for God, a boyfriend, and a beast, which I know doesn't sound like it all goes together but it does, or it will when finish it
And, while I want to snicker at the clear karmic warning shot that is Burning Man, i.e., stop setting things on fire with fossil fuels, it does give a girl ideas. I mean, the only thing that sounds worse than going to Burning Man is not being able to leave Burning Man. But honestly, the high dollar demographics of the event are tempting me to airdrop alligators and pythons to liven up this scenario and film it as a reality show. Naked and Afraid: VC Edition. Yes, I am a terrible person, but you would watch because it would be like Succession but with poo and reptiles! The ratings would rival Tiger King. VCs would surely go to jail for nefarious survival fraud schemes, and I could finally fund my lifelong learning institute for neurodiverse artists and writers in Vermont who would otherwise be let down by our shitty system. A win-win-win, I say!
Doofus(es) of the Week
Now, for our regularly scheduled segment! This one’s a doozy…
Doofus #1: Chad Everett. The Chaddiest Chad of all time. I can’t believe my 5-year-old self ever had a crush on this jerkwad but just look at how Lily Tomlin (whose birthday was on Sept 1) cancels his ass on The Dick Cavett Show after he referred to his wife as "the most beautiful animal I own." That Lily left him there to stew in his shame is the best. Well, he died in 2012 and Lily is still here… So, huzzah!
Here's what I know as an oldster: stop romanticizing people who hurt you.
Doofus #2: Joe Effing Jonas. Barbie was right. Sophie Turner takes one small part for the first time in four years, and Joe has to WATCH his OWN children, so he divorces her??? He’s not just a doofus, he’s a little bitch-baby-doofus. What? She’s supposed to change HIS diapers too?
I seriously can’t take any more doofuses. We need to move on to the marvelous.
That’s Marvelous!
A new segment luxuriating in the good things.
Ok, this is just the best… Please come sing on my countertops. I will sing with you.
After my accident where I broke my whole face and had to relearn how to talk, I got really bored with speech therapy, so I decided to try singing musicals. And my neighbor Marlene would come over to tell me to pipe down. I was way into Gershwin and Rodgers & Hart.
And I would say, “Puck you, Marlene! This is my yoga!” My F’s came out like P’s because I couldn't pronounce F-sounds for three years. This, naturally, made it impossible to say the F word, which I have to tell you, is very much a requirement in New York City.
And so, she would retaliate by kvetching loudly and endlessly on the phone. It was always something about Florida, Florida, Florida, and her voice was just so awful—like a wire bristle brush against your raw brain or like stepping on a pointy Lego over and over again except with your eardrum.
And I was trying to write a book. I was under contract with a hard deadline! But I just couldn't write to Marlene. I tried Bose noise-cancelling headphones. I tried white noise apps through my regular headphones. Ultimately, I ordered these assassin’s sharpshooter headphones. You know, the kind the Russians wear when they really mean business. I’m not even joking:
It was excellent except they completely hurt my head because they're super snug, so I could only write for 20 minutes at a time and then I'd have to take them off and listen to her. So, it was difficult to focus. No wonder assassins have to work so quickly! They’d get such a migraine. Anyway, I blame the poor quality of my book on Marlene and the fact that I was wearing assassin's headphones almost the entire time I was writing it. Thank goodness I moved. This next book is bound to be better.
STILL, singing musicals is the best and I highly recommend them, if you are suffering the after-effects of a seizure, stroke, or major facial reconstruction… or if you are just sad. Seriously, Mitch McConnell should just get in the shower and belt some Disney. He’ll be right as rain and back to taking away affordable healthcare and women’s rights lickety-split.
Another marvelous thing: A wonderful color short film about PARIS in 1965. The VO is just so perfectly 60s… It totally reminds me of the dad from The Patty Duke Show but pretending to be Cary Grant.
If you've already been to Paris and feel you need something more… You can now journey inside a black hole. Maybe Chad could go there too?
What’s truly marvelous here is the scientist, Dr. Janna Levin. She is my serious girl crush—still along with Amanda Palmer. That one can ponder total existential annihilation day in and day out and still maintain empathy and wonderment is indeed marvelous.
Ok, that’s it for me. In the meantime, my wish for you…
Stay safe, Lovelies, and know that I’m thinking of you always – xoxo, gotham girl
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I am 110% with you on being ready for the fall weather, sweaters, candles and cozy blankets (these days it actually does get cool enough in SoCal for that sometimes). It was 75 today versus the 106 we've been having and I was ready to make some hot apple cider. Hoping a full recovery from that nasty COVID beast is right around the corner for you.
Fall is my least-favorite season (because it heralds the Big Rain here in the Pacific Northwest) but my most favorite FASHION season, because it's that time when every single problem can be solved with a good coat. Puck the squillionaires stuck in the mud (but also: maybe they'll get a sense of the importance of community?). Watching that French Tourism vid reminded me of the magnificent "Charade" with Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant, which was filed in Paris around that same time. SHOW TUNES FOR EVERYBODY my favorites are from "Gigi", "Hair", "Cats", and anything by Cole Porter.