Peonies in the Patrizia-torium
May. 31st, 2019 09:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraFiftieth high school reunion on Sunday, so I must start the glamming today—hair, nails, outfit choices, etcetera. Do I wear The Fascinator, or is that too much in this group? (We are all overachieving crones! Except for me. I am more what you might call an underachieving crone.) Must do my hair! Shocking, I know, but my hair is not naturally aubergine!
BB took me out to lunch yesterday at that fabulous Indian restaurant in Rhinebeck, and I told him my La Belle et la Bête story, and we made it out of Oblong Books without buying a thing (though Gary Shteyngart’s Lake Success did murmur sarcastic come-hithers.)
Did some writing on The Work in Progress.
Rudolph Valentino lunching with his mother in the Famous Players-Lasky commissary has inexplicably morphed into a group of Cantonese prostitutes advising June about the I Ching and Kagel exercises. Hey! I’m gonna go for it.
Continued my Jonathan Franzen reading blitz with Freedom, which is awfully good and moreover, actually has some likeable characters, one of whom is named (wait for it!) ...
PATRIZIA!
Though she’s always called “Patty.” (Sidebar: I, too, was called “Patty" until I was 25 or so and put my foot down.)
Franzen’s stream-of-consciousness inside the head of a female basketball star on the court is wondrous to read, and that interview between failed punk musician Katz and rich kid Zachary—I think it’s good for the honesty of rock and roll and good for the country in general to see Bob Dylan and Iggy Pop for what they really were: as manufacturers of wintergreen Chiclets—is genius.
Else?
Bush peonies are finally in bloom. I have huge vases of them clustered throughout the Patrizia-torium:
The Patrizia-torium itself is quite cluttered. I should try to organize it. After restoring my hair to full aubergine.
BB took me out to lunch yesterday at that fabulous Indian restaurant in Rhinebeck, and I told him my La Belle et la Bête story, and we made it out of Oblong Books without buying a thing (though Gary Shteyngart’s Lake Success did murmur sarcastic come-hithers.)
Did some writing on The Work in Progress.
Rudolph Valentino lunching with his mother in the Famous Players-Lasky commissary has inexplicably morphed into a group of Cantonese prostitutes advising June about the I Ching and Kagel exercises. Hey! I’m gonna go for it.
Continued my Jonathan Franzen reading blitz with Freedom, which is awfully good and moreover, actually has some likeable characters, one of whom is named (wait for it!) ...
PATRIZIA!
Though she’s always called “Patty.” (Sidebar: I, too, was called “Patty" until I was 25 or so and put my foot down.)
Franzen’s stream-of-consciousness inside the head of a female basketball star on the court is wondrous to read, and that interview between failed punk musician Katz and rich kid Zachary—I think it’s good for the honesty of rock and roll and good for the country in general to see Bob Dylan and Iggy Pop for what they really were: as manufacturers of wintergreen Chiclets—is genius.
Else?
Bush peonies are finally in bloom. I have huge vases of them clustered throughout the Patrizia-torium:
The Patrizia-torium itself is quite cluttered. I should try to organize it. After restoring my hair to full aubergine.
