ID: omg i had brunch at the scientology center yesterday
MK: why did you do that
ID: two reasons
1. $12, all you can eat
2. kicks
MK: i’m only partially convinced
ID: hahaha
it’s at the celebrity centre in la
MK: i drove by that when i was there
looked huge and terrifying
ID: it was pretty nuts
they had some great posters
depicitng the 17 stages of enlightenment or… something like that
MK: only 17?
that’s ez!
Now I’m going to make up for being lackadaisical on the blogging front by posting obsessively. Here’s something from my computer archives: a really attractive Australian-born, Paris-based chef who owns a restaurant called Bones. SW-MOTHERFUCKING-OON.
I haven’t posted in a WEEK, which is like, normal for every blogger in the universe but criminal for me. In any case, it’s been a hectic few days, which included: my first visit to the Chateau Marmont (wee!), brunch at the Scientology Celebrity Centre in Los Angeles, Yom Kippur at a ghetto Days Inn outside LA, and the discovery of these two gems.
Jerusalem Syndrome “is a group of mental phenomena involving the presence of either religiously themed obsessive ideas, delusions or other psychosis-like experiences that are triggered by a visit to the city of Jerusalem. It is not endemic to one single religion or denomination but has affected Jews, Christians and Muslims of many different backgrounds.
“The best known, although not the most prevalent, manifestation of the Jerusalem syndrome is the phenomenon whereby a person who seems previously balanced and devoid of any signs of psychopathology becomes psychotic after arriving in Jerusalem. The psychosis is characterised by an intense religious theme and typically resolves to full recovery after a few weeks or after being removed from the area.”
Paris Syndrome “is a transient psychological disorder encountered by some individuals visiting or vacationing in Paris, France. It is characterized by a number of psychiatric symptoms such as acute delusional states, hallucinations, feelings of persecution (perceptions of being a victim of prejudice, aggression, or hostility from others), derealization, depersonalization, anxiety, and also psychosomatic manifestations such as dizziness, tachycardia, sweating, and others. Similar syndromes include Jerusalem syndrome and Stendhal syndrome. Japanese visitors are thought to be especially susceptible.”
I’m currently going to work on a short film about a little old Japanese man stricken with Paris Syndrome.
My father and I have an informal competition that involves acquiring points by spotting the most outrageous or currently interesting celebrities. Each celebrity’s point-worth is assigned based on a completely obvious set of intangible qualifications that the two of us agree on. Last week I saw Katie Holmes, and asked him what he thought she was worth. Here is his answer:
“The scale would probably be like this:
Katie in Manhattan: 50 points
Katie in Brooklyn: 100 points
Katie being followed by Scientology goons: 200 points
Katie and Suri (with or without goons): 250 points
Suri alone: 500 points
Suri with Tom Cruise: 500 points
Suri with Katie and Tom: Game over.”
In my late teens, when the Air Supply song “Making Love Out Of Nothing At All,” was popular, I developed an allergy to wheat flour and white flour.
Dear WordPress,
I may have asked you this before, but for the love of all things holy PLEASE remove this quote from your trove of inspirational sayings for writers:
“Dreams are illustrations from the book your soul is writing about you.”
It is attributed to one Marsha Norman, who ought to be seriously rebuked for composing such hooey.
Xoxo,
ID
The leaves were falling from the great oak at the meadow’s edge. They were falling from all the trees.
One branch of the oak reached high above the others and stretched far out over the meadow. Two leaves clung to its very tip.
“It isn’t the way it used to be,” said one leaf to the other.
“No, ” the other leaf answered. “So many of us have fallen off tonight we’re almost the only ones left on our branch.”
“You never know who’s going to go next,” said the first leaf. “Even when it was warm and the sun shone, a storm or a cloudburst would come sometimes, and many leaves were torn off, though they were still young. You never know who’s going to go next.”
“The sun seldom shines now,” sighed the second leaf, “and when it does, it gives no warmth. We must have warmth again.”
“Can it be true,” said the first leaf, “can it really be true, that others come to take our places when we’re gone and after them still others, and more and more?”
“It is really true,” whispered the second leaf. “We can’t even begin to imagine it, it’s beyond our powers.”
“It makes me very sad,” added the first leaf.
They were silent a while. Then the first leaf said quietly to herself, “Why must we fall?…”
The second leaf asked, “What happens to us when we have fallen?”
“We sink down…”
“What is under us?”
The first leaf answered, “I don’t know, some say one thing, some another, but nobody knows.”
“The second leaf asked, “Do we feel anything, do we know anything about ourselves when we’re down there?”
The first leaf answered, “Who knows? Not one of all those down there has ever come back to tell us about it.”
They were silent again. Then the first leaf said tenderly to the other, “Don’t worry so much about it, you’re trembling.”
“That’s nothing,” the second leaf answered, “I tremble at the least thing now. I don’t feel so sure of my hold as I used to.”
“Let’s not talk any more about such things,” said the first leaf.
The other replied, “No, we’ll let be. But––what else shall we talk about?” She was silent, but went on after a little while. “Which of us will go first?”
“There’s still plenty of time to worry about that,” the other leaf assured her. “Let’s remember how beautiful it was, how wonderful, when the sun came out and shone so warmly that we thought we’d burst with life. Do you remember? And the morning dew, and the mild and splendid nights…”
“Now the nights are dreadful,” the second leaf complained, “and there is no end to them.”
“We shouldn’t complain,” said the first leaf gently. “We’ve outlived many, many others.”
“Have I changed much?” asked the second leaf shyly but determinedly.
“Not in the least,” the first leaf assured her. “You only think so because I’ve got to be so yellow and ugly. But it’s different in your case.”
“You’re fooling me,” the second leaf said.
“No, really,” the first leaf exclaimed eagerly, “Believe me, you’re as lovely as the day you were born. Here and there may be a little yellow spot but it’s hardly noticeable and it makes you handsomer, believe me.”
“Thanks,” whispered the second leaf, quite touched. “I don’t believe you, not altogether, but I thank you because you’re so kind, you’ve always been so kind to me. I’m just beginning to understand how kind you are.”
“Hush,” said the other leaf, and kept silent herself for she was too troubled to talk any more.
Then they were both silent. Hours passed.
A moist wind blew, cold and hostile, through the treetops.
“Ah, now,” said the second leaf, “I…” Then her voice broke off. She was torn from her place and spun down.
Winter had come.
Sometimes you say or think of pure gems while feeling tortured and frenzied by words.
“A grasshopper is to a martini what a strawberry Frappaccino is to an espresso.”
“Medicaid fraud! That is gold.”
Plus, for good measure, a limerick I found in an old notebook. I guess I wrote it? But it might have been a collaborative effort between me and my brother:
Katherine Heigl
Oh, you stocky wench
Can I suspend disbelief
When you play a doc?
Another one! I’m far less prepared this time. Far more nervous. Wish me luck, everyone! Here are some things that are on my mind as I begin:
The Collyer Brothers
This quote, from E.L. Doctorow: Asked about his writing routine, Mr. Doctorow smiled slyly and said: “Here’s how it goes: I’m up at the stroke of 10 or 10:30. I have breakfast and read the papers, and then it’s lunchtime. Then maybe a little nap after lunch and out to the gym, and before I know it, it’s time to have a drink.”
Mid-life crises
The Florida Panhandle
By the Evolution Store.
(Still want to realize my great butterfly artwork. )
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