Is It Art Or Just Another Frenchman Staring At His Balls?

After my love affair with NYC in the fall, and then the slight abandonment issues we went thru during my stint in LA, we have had a rocky patch over the last month but I feel that we are pulling thru, we are gaining strength daily and are definitely back on the right track.

She has offered up another weird and wonderful day for me- from Sunday morning castings to random naked contortionists at MOMA- apparently art… but basically a Frenchman staring at his balls for half an hour in front of a crowed of people. My nerves prickled when they took my ticket and said ‘we ask that you don’t leave during the performance’ (yeah hardly a positive opening) then they slip in that its an hour long. I take my seat and realise I am staring at a blank stage with a table and chair and I man dressed in black. (Never a good sign, especially when you have been dragged to as many friends ‘experimental performances’ as I have, not to mention the 'interesting' shows with 'avantgarde' theatre companies, i have since learned avantgarde translates as 'run the other way', i have devised myself over the years and dragged my poor, loyal and suffering family and friends to) at which point I am suddenly beyond nervous, I am now in a cold sweat, sat right in the centre front, with the curator (whom has personally invited us!) seated right next to me, there is NO escape. I manage to entertain myself thru the first half hour of this strange Frenchman walking round the stage making robot noises, by a number of different means: first I have a little doze, but its one of those stressful involuntary ones where your eyes will just not stay open and you know you are supposed to be awake and your head keeps flopping embarrassingly forward… then I start scrutinizing the ceiling…hmmm interesting the way those concrete blocks are all the same size and white… next I start trying to read the squiggly notes the journo next to me is writing, in shorthand in Dutch! Then I start to imagine how interesting it would be to watch Hubby watching the Frenchman, (the pain he would go thru, would make Guantanamo seem like summer camp) which is a really bad idea as it starts me giggling…I take a glance at my companion, and inflicter of this torture ,Shaz, who gives me a quick ‘don’t you dare start’ look and refuses even a glance back in my direction (case she catches the giggling epidemic that has seized my body)for the rest of the entire show, during which I go thru a vast and painful range of emotions, the worst of which is the realization by the end that I am actually transfixed by this lanky naked frog with his bum in the air. Ah for art!

We then head back down town for a quick sushi before hot footing it to the Angelika for a bit of commercial entertainment…Ah, No, we choose Blue Valentine! I should have been warned by the conversation at brunch when someone was talking about Lady Gaga and Leighton Meester and Shaz asks “who is this Lady Easter?”.. anyway we happily buy our tickets for the 7:45 viewing, head into the theatre and are mistified that the movie has already started and its only 7:44… we watch the whole miserable thing (or so we think) I did think the story lacked clarification and was very worried when I was having to ask ‘Lady Easter’ for story tips…anyway we get thru without slitting our wrists. And are just leaving when I say ‘I am very angry that they should start the film early (it didn’t occur to me that everyone else seemed to have been there on time) so we decide to complain at which point we are told we were in the wrong viewing and had missed the first 45 mins…so we decide to go back in and watch the first half, which I have to say is probably the best way to watch this movie as you can leave feeling only half like topping yourself instead of fully determined to do so. And just as I think we are on the home run and the evening couldn’t really get any more bizarre we walk passed the palm reader who of course beckons us in and tells me I am going to have 4 children!!!!!!

NYC, you gotta love her.

Rxxx

Add Some Bubbles And All Will Sparkle...

Ok fine, I will admit it, it is kinda beautiful in NYC in the snow. As I walk home at night, out of the cozy bistros of west 4^th street, where everything is white except the sparkling lights from the bars and restaurants. There are no cars on the streets, just huddles of beautiful young people laughing and smoking and having fun. All is magically and Christmas like, without the pressure and trauma of Christmas, yes its OK, I suppose! A couple of glasses of sparkly and nothing can flatten my mood, not the miserably acted and terribly told Bosnian war play I just saw on 42^nd street ( almost as painful as watching a Brits do Tennessee Williams) nor the fact that I have just ruined new fave suede boots in snow sludge…life is beautiful when it is covered in cotton wool and for that I am grateful, who cares that bellow the pristine beauty of perfect white there are sacks of rubbish and dirty sidewalks, tonight it glistens with snow queen sparkles and NYC shines bright and white ….and someone, god bless them has made a path to my door. Sweat dreams. Rxxx

Baby Its Cold Outside

What the hell am i doing and WHY am i in the coldest place on earth in the middle of a snow storm?!!! There is a large reward for anyone who can answer me this question. Its actually become so absurd that i went to leave Shaz's house this evening and fell back inside the door in fits of laughter, i couldn't get back out there for 10 mins, i think hysteria has finally set in. I know what Captain Oates felt like before he uttered those famous words " i am going outside, i may be some time" (well kinda anyway, am not dying of hunger and ready to eat my own arm or anything-Yet!) the snow and wind and lightning are all just so over dramatic that i feel like i am on set and the affects team have gone a bit loopy. I spend the first half of the day thinking about and planning down to the most meticulous detail, my trip downstairs and a cross the street to Starbucks, which shoes will be best.. the fur boots are warmest but the wedges give me a platform out of the snow, the NYC 'duvet coat' is the lightest but the good old Joseph sheepskin the best defense against the storm...hmmm which hat... i like the black flapper one but the cap is more durable though i always pull it so far down over my eyes that i bump into people and in NYC that hasn't been the most affective way of making friends...OK now the gloves... they have to be thin enough that i don't have to take them off to get the key in the front door but thick enough for my hand not to freeze if i have to hold the phone to my ear whilst outside...i swear by the time i have made all these decisions its time for lunch anyway so i ditch all Starbucks plans and make mad dash back to Soho House, thank God, its right next door ( yes i am a sad creature of habit, i can be anywhere in the world and SH is where you'll find me, with my laptop and vino in the corner) where i stay till dinner time only budging for a steam at cowshed to warm the bones, i swear if it wasn't for Nick i would have died long ago. Like Captain Oates and Scott, walked out into the snow not to return...Have actually found new hangout, for those few hours between lunch and dinner...when i get really adventurous and leave SH i cross the street to the Mac store. Its become my fave place to meet people...its really warm, has Internet connection, lots of people in blue t-shirts to do things for you and loads of toys to play with and you can pretend you are working at the same time, its perfect! Made two new BFF's today...not only that i am becoming a whizkid at computer programs as i keep finding myself in classes...learnt how to do things on my mac today i thought were way beyond my golden tresses. who knows maybe snow is good for me and i am gonna find i am a nerdy genius at ...i don't know...erm.. at something. Anyway what was i saying...ah yes: WHY am i hear in NYC in January? i honestly have no idea and am totally open to suggestions! xxx

Oops this one missed the post!!!! Lost In The Hollywood Hills

I have lost track of time, time zones, my location on the planet and most definitely any brain cells I had…just realized I have been in LA for 2 weeks -I literally thought it had been about 5 days….it was actually supposed to be 2 days but on my way to the airport I got a call booking me on an amazing movie with Al Pacino, where Sienna Miller plays my mum…don’t ask how that works…but it does! Since then I am not quite sure what I have been doing…I know it took me the first week to figure out that my ‘keyless car’ actually meant I didn’t have to use the key…I know it sounds kinda self explanatory but I didn’t get it…I can actually keep the key in my hand bag and never take it out…the car just knows when I am near by…it’s genius. Then I had to navigate the parking and why every time I park outside the front gate to my darling hosts house the neighbour sends me notes calling me a ‘dick’, at first I thought he was signing them Dick, so I bought a pretty card to right back saying ‘Dear Dick I am so sorry to have caused…’but someone pointed out that there was no full stop between the words ‘I will have your goddamn car clamped’ and the word ‘dick’…hmmm.

My magnificent hosts B&H who kindly offered to put me up for the weekend (amongst moving in themselves) have had to endure my bit by bit take over of the top floor to their house, there is no longer a ‘guestroom’ it is now 'Rosie’s' room. I think they began to worry when after the first 10 days I started to unpack, they could tell I was really here for the long haul…that and the fact that hubby is coming over to ‘collect me’ …don’t mention it to them, but he is moving in too! I mean, how and why would anyone go home to London in December when its 26 degrees here?? We spent the whole of yesterday laying by the pool, reading the New York Post (its my new fave pass time and the only way I get any insight into world affairs… please forgive any missed world disasters but don’t worry I do know that Lindsey is out of rehab and went shopping yesterday, so all is well!) I am actually being educated here, B has an encyclopedic knowledge of art, amongst many other things and the most gorgeous collection, we have been unpacking his beautiful pieces and there is nothing more wonderful than hearing his awe inspiring gasps at the their beauty as he unwraps each painting like it was an unexpected and long awaited xmas gift, and he talks about the artist and the personal story to him that each piece holds…and then we choose its next resting place. H has worked day and night with meticulous attention and style to create a beautiful home around me and my suitcases…why he thinks I will ever leave now I am not sure!

H & I snuck out for sneaky pedi this afternoon, my toes are bubblegum pink…am now thinking in character as the film I am making is all improvised, we have no script, so with no lines to learn I just pretend that anything I want to do is character research….’Love this new way of working- definitely think my character has daily massage, lays by pool and eats lots of homemade ice-cream (H has taught me or at least I watch as he makes it and somehow manage to take half the credit!) Rxxx