Diary of an adult runaway

Reading/watching

Okay, so my numbering’s going to look a bit skew-whiff here because I’m numbering it as of when started, not finished. So here goes:

Book #9: A Version of the Truth. Simply put, loved it and will order their first book.

Book #8: Forget About It by Candice Crane. As I suspected/hoped, the pace started to pick up on this one. But then came the train ride to Bruges and I wanted something slimmer to carry with me, so I took along Book#10.

Book #10: Promise Not To Tell by Jennifer McMahon. Really well-written in many ways but left me somewhat cold and I didn’t totally buy the ending. Still, a good read.

Jumped back to #8 but then yesterday arrived Book #11: Me And A Guy Named Elvis, by Jerry Schilling (with Chuck Crisafulli). No big surprise that I listen to Elvis Radio a lot, and Jerry often visits. He’s a soft-spoken, considerate, thoughtful man, and he’s been loyal to Elvis throughout it all. So I was interested to read his story, and his author’s note told me this would be a book I could trust:

I wouldn’t want to speak for Elvis Presley and tell you that I was his best friend. But I can tell you this: He was my best friend.

Watching:

Underbelly. Question: how good is Vince Colossimo as Alphonse Gangitano? My answer: fantastic. (Not to mention the guy playing Carl Williams.) Okay, so he’s channelling a little of Eric Bana as Chopper Reid, but that’s okay by me, and he actually got me to, well, not care about Gangitano so much but think maybe he could have been reformed. But who really knows? Those guys weren’t just killing each other but ambushing police and, in the case of Jane Thurgood-Dove, innocent citizens. It was our own real-life Sopranos, with people killing each other then turning up as pallbearers, cops stealing ecstacy and guns from the lock-up, the whole deal. My brother’s ex was in a car outside his house (in a “nice” neighbourhood) when he saw someone hit the ground—Gerardo Mannella, the latest “fruitshop owner” to be killed—and a man running away. I was on the tram going through Malvern on a lovely sunny afternoon when I saw the police descending on a side street—someone else had just been shot. Off and on, over the period of a few weeks, there were cars right outside my house (another “nice” neighbourhood), in what was obviously shifts and they were obviously watching the guy across and down a  few doors, a young guy who always roared into his drive in his black convertible. I went next door to my neighbour the cop and said “You know what’s going on here, right?” and he just gave me this look and nod and left it at that. Not long after, while I was at the hairdresser’s one Saturday morning, choppers started flying over. Jason Moran had been killed just a few blocks from my house. (Which is why it makes me laugh when people ask me if living in Paris is dangerous. Hell no, not after the “nice” suburbs of Melbourne!)

American Idol: You know, I don’t care if Michael Johns had a record deal before. He did something I didn’t think anyone could ever do: made me love Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody, which has freaked me since I first heard it when I was 6. Plus, he's Australian--come on! Also loving the Irish chick (another deal, another so what—if this is the way for her to realize her dream then I’m all for it) and the rocker nurse. Party on! Though I did agree with Simon about that Kyle guy, I wanted him to go through. He did something I never thought anyone could do, too: made me appreciate Josh Groban’s You Raise Me Up without wanting to stab myself in the eye with a fork.

So You Think You Can Dance (Australia): eh. I can’t work out if the blond judge is genuine or pretentious, and I can’t shake the feeling they’re being somewhat condescending to some of the dancers. Regardless, watching this kind of dance on TV doesn’t move me as much as watching it live, so this is probably the end of the road for us.

Breaking Bad: note to self: don’t watch while eating dinner.

Celebrity Rehab: What’s the deal with that Chyna chick? And how sweet is Mary Carey? Dr. Drew makes me laugh. He's a cool mix of cynicism borne of experience, and hope.

Outta here!

Stop me before I kill someone (like, say, oh, Meredith GREY!)

Ok, if you read anything more about Grey's Anatomy on this blog, you're welcome to come over and slap me silly. Because that's what I feel like doing to myself for sitting through that season finale. Why did I even watch it? Because I really like Addison, I think she's an excellent character, and fingers crossed that the non-spin-off becomes a spin-off (come on, Shonda, what's with the disingenuousness?), if only so I get to perv on Tim Daly.

But Meredith, Cristina, Izzie, George, Alex, Derek? We are done. DONE! Come on. Meredith whines to Derek about him just going ahead and dumping her and he says he's not going to but she's got to stop running off so she runs off? Though I guess he just gave her permission to do so, so why the hell shouldn't she? Then BURKE runs off? (He may as well keep going, what with the whole faggot comment crap.) Derek turns down the chief's post? The chief accepts that and stays chief, after what he's just gone through with his wife, whose main complaint about him was the time he dedicated to his job? George DOESN'T pass his exam? His wife DOESN'T beat the shit out of Izzy? Oh, and Bailey--BAILEY DOESN'T MAKE CHIEF RESIDENT??? *

(I fail to see how Oprah can say she loves this show yet she thinks romance novels are unrealistic and offer false hope to women.)

I wish this: that Shonda hands over Addison to someone who won't sacrifice her character for some cheap season finale gasps somewhere down the line. I found the L.A. people much more interesting than the Seattle Grace whingers, esp. Amy Brenneman and that cute surfer boy. Get Addison a tan, I say! And get her laid. By Tim Daly.

Okay, maybe I'm just unhinged because it was not a good week in reality TV land. Yau-man, gone. That Dreamz certainly was dreaming if he thought screwing over Yau was going to land him a million bucks. And Melinda, gone. GONE. WHAT IS UP WITH THAT???? Nothing personal against Blake, but come on, REALLY? I was all ready to have a self-righteous fit if I hit the trifecta, but settled down when Laila Ali made it through to the finals of Dancing. I love Laila, especially when she starts her "The CHAMP is here!" talk. Try saying that to yourself when you're feeling low and you'll perk right up. Fake it until you make it, I say.

And continuing with the whole "You watch too much TV" routine (do not!), I'm making an Australian movie DVD for my French office mate. So far, I've got Strictly Ballroom, Priscilla, Muriel's Wedding and Chopper. Strictly and Chopper are 2 of my all-time faves, though I wasn't interested at all when they were first released. Strictly I ended up seeing because I was at loose ends one Sunday afternoon, and found myself in the cinema a few hours later, standing and applauding like the rest of the audience. Chopper was a film my brother said I had to see, so he made me rent the DVD one day and I laughed and laughed until tears ran down my face. What's so funny about a self-confessed stand-over man who cuts off his own ears? Well, no one really knows what Chop did or didn't do (except yeah, cutting off his ears, we know he did that), whether he really killed people or just made everyone think that so they'd keep away from him, and Eric Bana is such a brilliant mimic that you swear it's Chopper speaking. The scene where he shoots Nevil (a.k.a. Nevil fucken Bartos, played to wog perfection by Vince Colosimo) for the second time then takes him to the hospital, while telling the cops he did no such thing because that would defeat the purpose of shooting him in the first place is my favorite, followed closely by the flashing in the bar, with the cop yelling "Fuck's sake, put it away, Chop!"

Chopper Read:

Eric Bana as Chopper Read:

 

Eric Bana as Eric Bana (much better!):

Yep, you can argue that this film glorifies violence (although anything that Rupert Murdoch and FOX object to can't be that bad, considering their track record--Fox News, anyone?) and Lord knows, with over 30 people killed in the Melbourne underground violence of the last decade, that's not a great thing. But I loved it for how absolutely Australian it was, just as I love the other films for the same reason. There's a level of subversiveness that I connect to, just as there's a recognition of our quirks and foibles. With Strictly, it's more than that--there's a great tenderness in this film, especially with Scott's father. All use very strong Australian accents to ground them and no one's got that Hollywood hair and makeup thing going on--except the boys in Priscilla. It's not surprising that dancing features in 3 of the films and ABBA in 2, and that there are a lot of bar scenes.

2 more films I want to copy for her: The Hard Word (Guy Pearce, Rachel Griffiths and Joel Edgerton are outstanding in this, with my favorite line being when Joel Edgerton says with relish, after he's asked if he enjoys being a bank robber, "Truthfully? I fucken LOVE it!") and Erskineville Kings, which I think is Hugh Jackman's finest work. And maybe some Secret Life Of Us, too. And The Nugget. Oh, and let's not forget The Castle. Hmm, and maybe there's room for some Kath & Kim, too.

My office mate might not understand it, but oh, the giggles I'll have!

Thus proving once again...

I'm used to wiping away a few tears while watching American Idol. I'm not used to having tears streaming down my face, but I was absolutely blown away by the Elvis/Celine Dion duet. Even knowing how it's done doesn't make it any less magical:

This song has always been special to me, mainly because Elvis, in L.A. at the time of RFK's murder and devastated by that and MLK's death a few months earlier, commissioned it as a plea for peace. The passion and pain and longing in his voice come from such a true place that it's transcendental. I'm so pleased a new generation got to see this performance, and hope they'll learn more about Elvis and about RFK. That 9 million Americans, mainly kids, still live in hunger 40 years after RFK vowed to fight poverty is a tragedy, but the $60 million ($60 MILLION!!!) AI has raised will so far help many people. You can still help out here.

"There are children in the Mississippi Delta whose bellies are swollen with hunger ... Many of them cannot go to school because they have no clothes or shoes. These conditions are not confined to rural Mississippi. They exist in dark tenements in Washington, D.C., within sight of the Capitol, in Harlem, in South Side Chicago, in Watts. There are children in each of these areas who have never been to school, never seen a doctor or a dentist. There are children who have never heard conversation in their homes, never read or even seen a book." ~RFK

4-day weekend! Jenny's coming up today to help transform my balcony into an urban oasis. I'm absolutely gobsmacked that the strikings I took from her geranium plants not only survived, but are flowering. I have more geraniums and herbs and a gorgeous purple clematis, and we're hoping to fashion some kind of barrier between me and the woman next door--something that she can't complain about or poison. (Yeah, sounds a little extreme, but I don't put anything past this woman, not after she tried to zap Kody with Raid.) To go along with the gorgeous, glorious weather, I'm going to make these, using my own lavender:

LAVENDER SCONES
YIELD: 12 Scones

2 cups all purpose flour
1 Tablespoon baking powder
4 Tablespoons (1/2) stick) sweet, unsalted butter
1/4 cup sugar
2 teaspoons fresh lavender or 1 teaspoon dried culinary lavender, coarsely chopped
2/3 cup milk, plus extra for glaze

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Grease & flour a large baking sheet. Sift flour and baking powder together in a large mixing bowl. Mix in the butter until the mixture looks like fine bread crumbs. Stir in the sugar and lavender (save a small amount to sprinkle on top of scones before baking). Add enough milk to make a soft, sticky dough. Turn dough out onto a well floured surface. Cut dough into 1 inch thick rounds with a cookie cutter. Place scones on the prepared baking sheet. Brush the top of each scone with a dash of milk and sprinkle with the reserved lavender and sugar. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes, until golden brown. Serve with rose petal jam and Devon cream.

Happy Sunday :-)

Happy, happy Earth Day!

Hope you're having/you had a great one! The first time I was ever conscious of Earth Day was in 1990, when  Mum and I were in Boston and went to the concert. I'm so happy to see more prominence being given to this event. And I'm just loving this poster, created by Bob Masse, who also created many memorable rock posters, starting in the 60s. I'm also loving the Earth Day Groceries Project. Getting kids involved in this fight is fundamental, especially when they're having fun, like these kids in Seattle:

With their energy, there's still plenty of hope.

Today in Paris at noon it's already 19C/67F in the shade, heading toward a high of 26. Yes, too high for this time of year~they're already predicting the hottest European summer on record. Still, I'm feeling good. Taking this week off was the right move, and I'm feeling happy and centered. Every morning I did yoga then wrote/collected materials for my new manuscript, and in the afternoons I cross-stitched/watched loads of junk TV. American Idol, Survivor, Ellen, The Biggest Loser (Australia) and much, much more. Completely hooked on Drive. Loved that twist about Nathan Fillion's character, and the writers certainly know how to write hook endings. So pleased that Sanjaya left AI. Not that I disliked him personally, it's just that some more talented people left before he did. Though I did get teary when he got teary. Whoever said he represented love was right. Oh, and Jordan made me cry, too. That girl blows me away, that's all there is to it.

So at the end of the week I'm filled with gratitude, for the following reasons:

1. To my boss, for giving me the week off on 2 day's notice (she's not the real boss but she should be~she's the one who knows what's going on and gets things done.)

2. To Rainbeau Mars, for her wonderful yoga practices. Kody would like to say that he enjoyed them immensely, too, especially the floor asanas, because then he could snuggle into my shoulder. Oh, and downward dog was so much fun, too~he really liked sticking his butt in my face just as I got into pose.

3. To Om Girl, for their wonderful clothing. Every morning after I did my practice, I changed into the yoga gear I wear around home~Om Girl velour capri pants and soft cotton t-shirt. Most days I chose the first t-shirt I bought in Topanga Canyon almost 5 years ago. The hem has all come undone, the design is faded from so many washes, there are stains and tiny holes in the front, but I don't care. It's like wearing a dream, the cotton is so soft and such a pretty shade of blue~a light indigo, really. You can buy their gear here at Barefoot Yoga.

4. To my friend Susan, for a wonderful lunch yesterday. She's always full of light and positivity and mischief. She laughs loud and from the heart. I "met" Susan on a Paris email list long before I moved here, and met her for real in summer of 2002 when she invited me to stay with her and her husband, Tom, and 2 kitties, in their wonderful home near Walden Pond. I had the most relaxing time, wandering around Walden Pond while Susan was at work, and owe her an eternal debt for taking me to 2 of my retail havens: LL Bean (yep, we drove to Maine for the day, stopping off at lighthouses and filling our gobs with saltwater taffy, and on the way home we stopped off in Marblehead and saw my gorgeous friend Sheyda) and then to the original Yankee Candle, where I was positively giddy with joy. Susan and Tom are the kind of people where nothing is a problem and everything is interesting and there's always something wonderful on their horizon.

5. Speaking of, thanks to Yankee Candle for their Ginger Citrus scent. It's really invigorated me this week. And thanks to KIFM for providing the music that kept me going. (If you live outside the US and can't stream directly from their site, try here.)

6. To Mirabilia, for making some of the girliest cross-stitch designs out there. I'm now working on this one. And to Melissa G., thanks for your comment! I'd upload a pic of where I am on this design, but my camera batteries are flat ;-(

7. To Haven Kimmel, for writing A Girl Named Zippy. You kept me laughing all week long, and brought back memories from my childhood, too. (Warning to animal lovers:  Haven grew up in  rural Indiana, and not everyone there was nice to animals, especially that Pete kid, so you might find some portions distressing. Flip past and keep reading~this is a magical book.)

8. To me, for finally writing a synopsis I think does the story justice. I suck the big one at synopsis, because all I want to write is "I love my characters and they wind up happily ever after, even thought hey're doing the best they can to fuck that up. The End. PS. Buy my book!"

9. To Champion supermarkets, for stocking turkey burgers actually made of minced turkey and not some pressed mystery meat.

Speaking of, it's lunchtime. One turkey, avocado and chipotle burger coming right up!

Celebrity spotting in the hood

On the Montmartrobus, doing the ultra-glamorous (i.e., hauling the washing home from the laundrette) when I saw this guy walking down rue Lepic with his shopping:

His hair was longer, but I didn't doubt for a second he's the guy playing Hamri Al-Hassad on 24--his eyes are really distinctive. Then I IMDB'd him, and discovered he was the yummy prince in Syriana, not to mention some doctor on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (which I have never in my life watched, so, you know...) Kinda nice to put a name to the face, because I often see people around that I know are actors (French) but I don't know where I've seen them.

Of course, none of them are anywhere near as glamorous as the mob I dined with on Friday night. A good time was had by all. So were margaritas and cheeseburgers. Of 7 people, 6 opted for the cheeseburger. And at 25E for a really good 3-course meal, The Frog & Rosbif at Bercy Village is the place to go for value for your money. Keep an eye out for Michael Moore's Sicko. Pat and some other American expats were shouted to dinner by MM so he could film them about their experiences with the French health system compared to the US. Stuns me that 45 million people in the US are without healthcare, while I pay an average of (after rebate) 1.5E for my prescriptions and 6E for my osteopath sessions.

Speaking of, energy levels are higher, things are starting to feel better. Though the doc made me stop using anti-inflammatories (that's the French spelling--how do I spell it in English? I've forgotten!) while I started on the T3 but the leg is killing me in the morning so I'm going to be hitting her up for a script come tomorrow. Come Monday. Huh. I keep running into Jimmy Buffet songs. Friday night was (naturally) Margaritaville and Cheeseburger in Paradise. I think that officially means I'm sun-deprived, though it's been getting better the past few days. Still, we have almost a month before spring starts and anything can happen...

First tears of American Idol Season 6 for me, when Lakisha Jones performed And I Am Telling You the other night. What a huge talent this woman has, and such a humble soul. Same with Melinda Doolittle. I'm thinking the white girls should watch out, because it's Lakisha, Melinda, Stephanie, Jordin and Sabrina for me so far. After the other night's performance, the boys aren't rating much of a mention--though weirdly I was thinking it was about time someone attempted Keep The Faith, then they announced Jon Bon Jovi was going to be one of the celebrity coaches. Margaritas all 'round!!

Labels: 24, American Idol, blogger meet-up, Montmartrobus