Sunday, February 11, 2007

Factory Girl

I didn't realize Andy Warhol was such an asshole.

Also didn't realize quite how pretty Sienna Miller is until this movie . I think she's better brunette than blond. But I think she was particularly striking because she actually looked like Edie Sedgwick. And, more than that, she did a pretty damn good job being Edie in this film.

The movie itself was both good and weak. I thought the plot line was a little wishy-washy. (Then again, if you viewed it as a pseudo-documentary on Edie Sedgwick's life, maybe it would seem less so.) And there was no real point except to highlight the miserable downward spiral the "poor little rich girl" fell into thanks to Warhol. (Though perhaps the real story of her demise lay in her incestuous relationship with her abusive father, "Fuzzy," but this is glossed over in the film for the most part).

On the other hand, there was some interesting camera work and both Sienna Miller and Guy Pearce gave strong performances as Edie and Warhol respectively. Hayden Christensen as a young Bob Dylan was pretty yummy, too (I've been a faithful fan of his since he was Anakin Skywalker; he singlehandedly made me a Star Wars fan! I know, I know, that's sacriligeously superficial to any true fan..).

In the end it was an inevitably tragic story that stirred something within. I think it could have been a lot more heart-wrenching with a little more depth. Still, it was a movie that placed art at a higher priority than depth. So, it was what it was. I guess it did for me what Requiem for a Dream did -- but on a smaller scale.


Thursday, February 08, 2007

Pre-Valentines grumble

So, I was trying to be gracious this year and not rant about how much I dislike the global Valentines Day mania that not-so-discreetly sets in by the first week of February. Talk about overkill -- aside from Christmas, no other "day" produces close to as much media frenzy. Anyway, in my quest to be neutral (and silent) about the whole thing, I was dutifully changing channels when ads and promos aimed at V-Day came on TV, walking past Hallmark as quickly as possible, ignoring billboards and shop windows sporting absurd red and pink heart-shaped cut-outs...

But, of course, there's a conspiracy to throw me off my path. And I refuse to shut up when Valentines Day is practically shoved through my front door. Or at least stuffed into my mailbox. Yesterday, I went to get my mail, as usual. And there, staring up at me, is this week's Time Out New York (TONY) with this headline splashed across the front: Why You're Single (and what you can do about it).

Seriously now, enough is enough. I'm not one of those bitter, single cat ladies. I actually like my freedom and independence (not that I have anything against relationships; it's just got to be the right time-right person-right place -- you know, the trifecta).

But still. Insulting cover story. Who sat around and thought, well, how can we make the cloying sweetness of V-Day worse? Ooh, here, let's tell single people why they're not fit for love. Now, the story doesn't really personally hit any nerves for me. But I can see how it could for some people. Among other possible reasons, there's the idea that you might not be in a relationship because you're overweight. Isn't that sweet? Happy Valentines Day -- easy on the chocolate!

So, blame this year's rant on TONY. If it wasn't for them, I'd have got through the year okay.

But, don't get me wrong, I love love. I think it's an amazing thing. I was talking to a friend soon after my run-in with the article and he was telling me about his current relationship. And it was lovely. I have nothing against celebrating Valentines Day per se (though I really don't understand why there has to be a "day" for love; wouldn't it be so much more spontaneous and special if the celebration came for no particular reason on any old day?). I just don't like how over the top it's gotten. Me, I still have a soft spot for those hand-made cards from my 6th grade boyfriend.

Monday, February 05, 2007


Who usually gives you lingerie as a present?

My list of lingerie gift-givers goes something like this:
- Me
- My friends
- Boyfriends
- Parents
...and now:
- Cleaning lady

I've been polling friends in the City who have cleaning ladies -- some of them have never got a gift from said ladies. Others have been bequeathed soap or knick-knacks from the Ukraine or Ecuador or wherever. None of them has ever received lingerie. Especially not the white, stringy, sequinned kind.

What about me says: "I don't really know her that well, there's no particular occassion for a present, but she seems the type to enjoy embroidered delicates"?

Plus she had to guess my size.

And it fit.

I'm not sure which of these many details is the most disorienting...

Saturday, February 03, 2007


Yesterday was a high adrenaline day. You know, the kind where you're in overdrive, doing a hundred things, thinking a hundred contradictory thoughts, basically driving yourself a little closer to the edge. For me, the most reliable indication is when one drink makes me feel like I've had 4. Brakes. The stuff I was sweating was really small, not to mention out of my control anyway.

Especially compared to the other stuff going on -- for instance, my dog nearly died. Short version: found a tumor, had to operate, got infected, she lost her tail (if you know her, you know how big a deal that is; it was practically part of her personality). But, thankfully, we didn't lose her altogether. She's not out of the woods yet. Send a little thought her way if you have a moment.

"Sleeping on it" puts things back in perspective. I'm not gonna let the small stuff get to me -- at least not for this week.