Archive for November, 2009

A(nother?) Love Letter

November 17, 2009

Dear Ryan Gosling,
So, you probably don’t remember me, but two years ago (a year and a half, actually –– April 10, 2008, according to my gchat archives), I was going to the gym near my old office for lunch (to eat, not to work out). That day I was wearing a long skirt, even though they’re unflattering on me because I’m so small, and I think my hair was kind of greasy, day-three-without-showering-greasy, perhaps. Any way, as I was strolling down sunny Lexington Avenue, I noticed a handsome young man in a t-shirt and jeans and Ray-Bans holding the glass door of the gym open so he could talk to a friend of his (brown Jew fro, leather jacket, shades) who was standing on the street. The features of the fellow holding the door open looked quite familiar, and as I approached I realized it was you, Ryan Gosling.
“Holy shit,” I said in my head. I was careful not to let my mouth act before my brain, like the time I saw Olivier Martinez at an outdoor café in Paris and yelled out “Holy Mother of God” and then stared upward and pretended to be talking about a cloud shaped like the Oscar Meyer Weiner. As I walked toward the door, I felt that weird cosmic pull that causes all neighborhood cats to howl at certain times and fractured eighties bands to reunite because I realized you would be conveniently holding the door open as I was about to enter the gym.
“Hello,” you said, as you held the door like a real gentleman.
But it wasn’t just “hello” like the way you would greet the bagel guy or a taxi driver or your chubby but painfully friendly coworker or anything. You said, “Heh-Lo-ow.” There was CLEARLY a flirty lilt to it. “He-Low” like, “Hey, you’re kind of cute, even if you’re wearing a floor-length skirt and look like you haven’t washed your hair in a few days.” Or like, “I know you haven’t been nominated for an Oscar, but you look kind of smart and interesting and I’d like to get to know you.” Or even, “This may sound strange, but will you marry me?”
And the answer is yes, Ryan Gosling, I will.
You see, Ryan, I’ve had a thing for you since I was a little tyke and you were on The Mickey Mouse Club, the nineties version with Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake and Keri Russell, whose hair I envied with a fire so red it burned inside. I remember picking you out of that grinning, finger-snapping line of adolescents and thinking, “That one.” I loved a good brooding boy even back then, which explains why my other big crush was on Ethan Hawke, who starred in the Disney version of White Fang. In any case, I remember you so clearly, I swear, although I hope that doesn’t sound creepy. I’m really not one of those yelping teenage girls who tracks the moves of their desired famous paramours via Twitter and Perez Hilton, etc. Okay, so I happen to see that little item about how you were helping a friend in Brooklyn recently, but that was pure coincidence. I was researching the socio-cultural topography of Brooklyn and how it is manifested in the trucking industry, and those pictures of you being super helpful and lifting your friend’s couch just happened to come up. Strong arms, you have.
But seriously, Ryan Gosling, I’m a big fan of your work. I saw The Believer in college. Takes an actor with guts to play a Jewish Neo-Nazi. I’m still a sucker for brooding, conflicted man, it seems. Half Nelson was fantastic also, and the Academy agreed. I would have had 10,000 of Dan Dunne’s crack babies. The Notebook was a little sappy for my taste, but you looked great, and I can’t help but be sucked into the meta-romance that everyone knows by now was occurring at the time. Rachel McAdams is really cute, even if I’m obliged to hate her a little because she’s your ex, and the insightful and painfully romantic things you said about her and your love affair in interviews afterward are directly lifted from the love story script in my mind.
“She’s not someone you can dismiss or put into any category. She’s many things.”
Be still my heart.
I have read, recently, that you are planning to release an album and working on your DJing skills, and while I tend to not approve of actors-turned-musicians (or vice versa), I’ll support you in this because that’s just the kind of partner I am.
So excuse me for going all Never Been Kissed on your ass, but I’m pretty sure the feelings are mutual, and so I’m posting this letter on my blog, because you seem like the kind of chill dude who would google “George W. S. Trow” or something and then champion the tiny, obsessive, wandering wannabe nonfiction writer who maintains an equal parts genuinely melancholy and intellectually pretentious blog. I bet you can talk about Infinite Jest. So, if you’d like to hang out, get a coffee, talk bastardized poetry and stare deeply into one another’s eyes, you can be at “our spot”, the Equinox on 63rd and Lexington Avenue in New York, on Saturday, December 12th at noon. I’ll be by the smoothie end of the counter. Outfit to be determined. This time, for sure, though, my hair will be clean.
Here’s to years of romance that rivals cinema.

Love,
ID.

Watching THE CHANGELING…The One With George C. Scott

November 12, 2009

Are all the old male caretakers of big estates in movies named “Mr. Tuttle?”

Ellipses

November 11, 2009

“…”
is the only answer i know anymore

Possibly the Most Bizarre Comment a Writing Instructor Could Give You

November 9, 2009

“Ok, now I have lost the will to live.  I think I have to stop reading soon.  Just for a while.”

This is…a compliment?

OMG!

November 8, 2009

So I’m channel surfing, cause I gots TV in my new home (down South for the winter, like the birds) and I come across Tremors, on the Mystery Channel, the summary of which reads…

“Four big worms with multiple tongues dig high-speed around people in the middle of nowhere.”

Starring Kevin Bacon.  Jackpot!

Eek

November 6, 2009

Inadequacy.

Toni Mirosevich

USA

Shorthand
My Russian neighbor invites
me in. We sit on her new
plaid couch, the one she is
buying on time. She says,
“I want you to write a poem
about what happened in
Chernobyl. It is the ten-year
anniversary.” I tell her I know
shorthand, assure her I will
take plenty of notes.

She begins to tell the story
of what happened after
the explosion. She remembers
as if it were yesterday, as if
it were still fresh in her mind.
“There was a cover up,” she
says. “They told us there was
nothing wrong.” She tells me
about her coworkers in Kiev,
about where they scattered.
About the farm fields around
the plant. “Everyone went on
to develop cancer,” she says,
then in a hush, as if the KGB
is still listening, “Leukemia.”
I tell her leukemia is a hard
word to rhyme. Her son is
ten, she says. Could I write
now please?

I walk home quickly, while
it’s still fresh in my mind.
I look down at my notes,
At the only two words
on the page:

weird strawberries.

Shorthand appeared in Blue Mesa Review (Issue 14, 2002)

They Beat Us To It!

November 6, 2009

Bananas in Bogota!

Bananas in Bogota!

FOR IMMEDIATE AND WIDESPREAD RELEASE

November 6, 2009

For immediate and widespread release, to be included in any and all newspapers, magazines, blogs, Twitters, ‘zines, LiveJournals, Gchat status messages, gossip rags, ransom notes, epic tomes, message boards, flyers, etc. etc., save Vogue Magazine and any of its international affiliates:

From the people who brought you such events as “Rolling Around Drunk on the Bowery” and “Synchronized Screaming to Midget Porn!,” the WELL DRESSED REFUGEES present: A Weekend Long Happening at Art Basel 2009! To be officially titled, of course, post-eventually.

The Well Dressed Refugees is a group of five nauseatingly attractive, totally outrageous, intellectually pretentious “living” beings who stage happenings wherever they go! What do they do? Whatever they do! It will literally be happening right there. This year they will be appearing Thursday through Sunday at Miami Basel all over the town. Wherever they happen to be, there they are, and if you’re lucky enough to be there, you’re participating, whether you like it or not. Character, spectator, who knows what you are? Or what I am? Or who THEY are?

How will you know where to be? Throw the I-Ching. Meditate on Swami Muktananda. Send out smoke signals. Sacrifice a small animal on a makeshift altar and see a map in the pool of blood. Attempt to ask the spirit of Luigi Pirandello via Ouija Board. Check Twitter –– all of it. Or just close your eyes and imagine yourself THERE. And there you are.

The WDR will videotape the security cameras at the Fountainebleau whilst floating in the pool sipping Vermouth and juices. They will determine the line where that act of renunciation itself becomes indulgent. They will expose the collective baby blogger unconsciousness by evaluating their obscure fashion references –– then blog about it. There may be a naked hamster’s nest. There may be a “spontaneous” dance party to “Funky Kingston” by Toots and the Maytals on Ocean Drive. There may be a visit to Wet Willie’s. There will definitely be Speedos. Chaos will ensue, and if you buy them drinks, they will oblige an encore. And so will you.

Hold on to your Ed Hardy underpants, cause we about to GUY DEBORD YOUR ASS!

The Well Dressed Refugees are…

PS: Commonly known as “Paw,” this cat lover enjoys vagrancy, fantasizing about G.W.S. Trow and will be wearing the aforementioned Speedos. Is currently living his life based upon the philosophical teaching of Deleuze and Guattari.
ID: Baby faced assassin with a penchant for Soviet kitsch and pretty lingerie. Fond of calling things “meta” and telling you to “live your reality,” which is advice you ought to take.
B: Direct descendant of eccentric Viennese royalty. The answer to her question, btw, is, “Yes, I am serious.” Plays well with others, but if you cross her, she will rip the heads off your dolls.
Lady Bob: Jew whose fashion sense has subtle Third Reich undertones. Unparalleled powers of sarcasm. True story: was prom queen in a non-ironic way.
LF: Loves: tats, blunts, questionnaires and sumptuous fabrics. Hates: allergens, the “popo,” and the HBO series Tell Me You Love Me. Last seen urban exploring in NYC’s outer boroughs.

Though don’t expect them to necessarily introduce themselves correctly. Or at all.

The Well Dressed Refugees now have a Twitter! Ch-ch-check it out!

http://twitter.com/WDRefugees

Stay in touch with the magical world for updates on what the WDR are up to…

Encore Mystery Channel

November 5, 2009

On Watching Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil

In this movie

Jude Law is skinny

and has all his hair.

 

Time

is really funny.

Startin’ Rumors

November 4, 2009

In case anyone asks, I was the model for this

 

AC:    do you have stock in that
ID:    well it’s me
on the bottle
so i get a check every once in a while
AC:    hat!
what!
lol
ID:    yeah
i never told you that?
AC:    looks like a cartoon
which one are we talking about
lol
AC:    are you messing with me
ID:    hahahaha
nooooo!
AC:    that little girl is 60 years old
me: 🙂
AC:    dont mess with me i usually belive you