The Flaneuse

This afternoon I had the pleasure of watching my first Antonioni film - La notte. The best part of this film was something I was taught could never authentically exist - the female flaneur. But there she was, Jeanne Moreau. Her watchful eyes absorbed and processed everything that made Marcello Mastroianni squirm behind his childish ones. With a few simple words she made his weakness and vanity so clear. With one true human friendship she trumped his sad virile exploits.

A few years ago I was in the NEC libriary and I decided to read the Tragedy of Medea. Reading about the spurned lover gone mad with jealousy, I came across this quote:

When in excess and past all limits Love doth come
he brings not glory or repute to man;
But if the Cyprian queen in moderate might approach
no goddess is as full of charm as she.
Never, O never, Lady mine,
discharge at me from thy golden bow
a shaft invincible
in passion's venom dipped.

It scared me, for love had come to me both in excess and past all limits. I wrote it down on a piece of paper and put it in my diary, a black book identical to one used by Jophet. We had liberated them from a big box book store, much to the scowling disapproval of the Lover Past All Limits.

This morning I woke up, rolled over, and saw my old diary, pages long since filled with handwriting not soothing and of all sizes (not in the Waldorf style), lying on the floor. I picked it up and opened it to find that rumpled piece of paper marked in graphite by a lovely young woman, navigating through the fog. Her message was for me, but I still don't know what to do with it.

Aaaaah!!
I just found out that Penelope Cruz says that Victoria Abril's performace as Marina in Atame inspired her to become an actress! I am so grateful to be breathing air on the same planet as these people! I want to kiss and hug them! I long for Almodovar. I know that we are connected through human experience and nothing more and I have to satisfy myself with that.
Marina! She's pictured here twice - for anyone who has not seen Tie Me Up Tie Me Down she is the slammin hottie with the fan, and the one with the gag being carried by Antonio Banderas from a few posts back.

Recently I said I wanted to go back and talk to young Lenya, and last night I got the chance. When I was 13 I started taking acting classes at Hedgerow Theater. My best friend in the class was Jessica Graham. She was the first person who ever made me feel proud to live in Media. We did wonderful things together, like smoke cigarettes outside the mall, go out to dinner by ourselves, and jump on the big trampoline in her mom's yard with her brother and sisters. I stopped taking the acting class after 9th grade because I had a domineering boyfriend who liked to sever me from my friends in the manner of a sailfish slashing through a school of small prey.

Her father recently passed away and she's been back in Media taking care of him. I ran into her in town and went over to her mom's house last night. It felt like a perfect pattern that we lost touch for a long time and now we have come together again. There was no sense of distance or awkwardness - it was like our two young selves were coming together again, having taken some time apart to set off fireworks. Blessed be!

She's an actress in LA and this is one of her movies:

Strange Man - Dorothy Love Coates

Greetings from Wildwood, NJ

I joined Mama Gurevich and Betty Ann for a weekend down the shore. During my years with Abel, we came here only once because he found it a distasteful reminder of everything he loathes about America. There is dense development everywhere - condos and bars and tiny houses right up to the beach. Our house was built by fishermen in the 1800s and now its right next to a Wawa. The cars and trucks pull in and out of the Wawa parking lot all through the night. When I was little I used to look out the window at the teenagers in their cars with their friends and wonder what life would be like for me. One night I heard "Sweet Child of Mine" coming out of one of their car stereos and I just stared out the window with goosebumps. I love this place. I come from here and I don't want to leave it behind. In "The Namesake" Gogol has a girlfriend who is very comfortable with his adoration of her beautiful lifestyle but never asks him about where he came from. The reader is supposed to understand this as something oppressive in their relationship. That could be why it is an insightful book - because the oppression is much easier to recognize on paper than in daily interactions.

At Friends Central I was exposed to shirts with Black Dogs on them, phrases like "Martha's Vineyard" were used. I still get a little hard on when I think about Jessica's "Wellfleet Oysters" t-shirt. When I visited her there one summer I felt so ashamed of what I had previously thought of as the beach. At Cape Cod, people read the New York Times and Terry Eagleton on the beach. There were beautiful bike paths - things seemed calmer and more natural. There is no Irish Weekend on Cape Cod.

Tonight I heard Robin Macarthur and Ty on the radio by chance. It was fun to hear friends on the radio - it made them seem famous - and I felt love for them. Garrison Keillor talked about their little cabin in the woods with no electricity or running water, their beautiful baby daughter, and I thought to myself, "Face it, Len, you either live in a cabin in the woods or you don't - and you don't."

This is important to me right now is because I've been searching for something outside of myself ever since middle school. I'm only realizing it now that my Saturn has returned. I need to go back and talk to young Lenya and find out what she found so unsatisfactory about herself. Hopefully I can help her see things from a different perspective so we can move on together.

Anyway, tonight in Wildwood we watched Vicky, Cristina, Barcelona. It had the feel of Hannah and her Sisters and I think it was all around a good movie with some outstanding elements. On my way out of another movie this past summer, I ducked my head into VCB, which was already in progress. I watched the scene where Cristina asks Maria Elena if she, too, paints, and she indignantly responds, "Do I paint? Ask him! He stole everything from me!" Later they all go on a picnic and Cristina is faced with the vivid feeling that she has nothing to offer. I was surprised to find myself drawn into their honesty and Cristina's nervous fragility. Watching the whole thing tonight, I still think that was the best segment of the film.

I still don't understand why main characters always have to be beautiful and super rich, though. If I looked like Scarlett Johannson, Woody Allen would be making a film about my life.

wtf?

Next Year in Jerusalem

Last night I celebrated Pesach at my friend Clayton's house. He converted to Judaism when he married his wife who is a Cuban Jew. They had two tiny chihuahua dogs, one of whom is autistic and hydrocephalic. We had lots of fun and lots of delicious food, got into an argument about racism, and topped it all off with a singalong at the end of the night. Some highlights:
"You have to carry your own bucket of water."
"Her father escaped from Castro! Why can't these people get an education and escape from poverty?"
"Love it or leave it."

It was good to talk honestly about things. It reminded me how articulate some people are and I think all of us did a good job of staying human about it and not blowing each other off trying to sound smart.


Just prior to the seder I went to a very satisfying yoga class where I practiced my forearm stand.

Tonight is the Full Moon! Perhaps Zoe and I shall mark it together.

The Dirty Thirty

Friday my friend Taylor baked me this cake and when I walked into the room, everyone sang me happy birthday and gave me that card everyone had signed! The locker in the background with the pictures on it is mine. Some of you out there may recognize the picture on the bottom as a Central American marsupial sniffing around the base of some Mayan ruins. Above and to the left is some wise advice from Rob Brezny.

Friday night we had a lovely party at the Nodding Head Brewery, and so many people came! I felt popular.
Saturday I had a nice peaceful day and talked to many loved ones. That night I was graced by the presence of Mama Gurevich, Betty Ann, and the Brasis. We shared a beautiful meal and I felt very lucky for our connections. The peacefulness lulled me into a false sense of security out of which I was promptly yanked by the pale freckled grasp of Julia. JULIA! The shrew.

Now we are thirty!

By the time a mammalian female fetus reaches twelve weeks in gestation from the date of conception, it is already carrying within its fetal ovaries all of the primary oocytes that will, during puberty, years after its birth, become all of the eggs she will ovulate throughout her lifetime. During puberty, the brain begins to release GnRH, a hormone that stimulates the release of LH and FSH from the ovaries. (In males, GnRH released by the brain, stimulates the secretion of LH and FSH from the testes. These are the exact same hormones.) Each month, LH and FSH cause about 6-12 of the primary oocytes to mature. For some reason, one matures faster than the others and at ovulation, this one breaks through the surface of the ovary surrounded by a wispy mass called the cumulus. The vesicle that used to enclose it in the ovary remains behind as the corpus luteum, where it releases estrogen and progesterone that stop the release of LH and FSH. As a result of this drop in LH and FSH, no more oocytes mature and only one egg is ovulated per month. The ovulated egg floats in its cumulus until the fimbriae of the fallopian tube (which look like little fingers) pick it up and usher it toward the tube. If sperm are present, the egg will be fertilized here.

Fertilization is the process through which the genetic material from the sperm and the egg are combined to form one complete cell. Over the next day or two, cell division occurs while the zygote is being pushed and prodded down the fallopian tube toward the uterus. When the zygote is comprised of about 16 cells, we call it a morula - the latin word for mullberry. By the time it reaches the uterus, it contains about 120 cells and we call it a blastocyst. All the while, the trusty corpus luteum, way back in the ovary, has been releasing progesterone. As a result, the uterus builds up its lining of blood and nutrients in preparation for its coming guest. The blastocyst finds a comfortable spot in the upper segment of the uterus where it nuzzles itself into the lining. Here, the wild process of gastrulation takes place. Some of the undifferentiated cells of the blastocyst move to the center of the circle, like an "O" turning itself into a heart, and then a "U". The inside surface of this "U" becomes the digestive tract of the fetus; the top opening of the "U" - its anus.

I am very grateful to have seen Through A Glass Darkly.

Lenya's Male Fantasies