Staying True To Your Style

"What About Second Breakfast?"

Really let myself go today at brunch. A bowl of oatmeal sprinkled with liberal amounts of brown sugar, cinnamon, honey and granola; a bowl of quiche, three slices of crispy bacon, half a waffle with cream and maple syrup, a whole apple (fiber for the digestion), and glass of cucumber water.

Mmmm.....feeling sleepy.

Down at the Dinghy

"The swinging door opened from the dining room and Boo Boo Tannenbaum, the lady of the house, came into the kitchen. She was a small, almost hipless girl of twenty-five, with styleless, colorless, brittle hair pushed back behind her ears, which were very large. She was dressed in knee-length jeans, a black turtleneck pullover, and socks and loafers. Her joke of a name aside, her general unprettiness aside, she was-in terms of permanently memorable, immoderately perceptive, small-area faces-a stunning and final girl. She went directly to the refrigerator and opened it. As she peered inside, with her legs apart and her hands on her knees, she whistled, unmelodically, through her teeth, keeping time with a little uninhibited, pendulum action of her rear end."

- "Down at the Dingy", Nine Stories

I love it when authors are in love with their characters.

Beautific, enamored descriptions are so raptuous to read. And Salinger has such a way with his physical descriptions - the image as a "hipless, small, unpretty" childlike girl of twenty-five is intriguing enough, but he just had to go bestow that "stunning and final quality" that Boo-Boo is entitled to as a member of the illustrious Glass family. I found this paragraph exciting on a personal level, frankly, because I've always loved physical descriptions about people (if you look back, I rambled on endlessly about Margot from "The Royal Tenenbaums") and this vivid description reminds me of how, a few years back I experienced a rare jolt of inspiration that led me produce a lengthy description about a slender-ish, small girl who wore "khaki cutoffs trimmed smartly around the knee".

It makes me wonder desperately about Salinger's visualization of Boo-Boo, or who she was based off. I'll be on the lookout for any actress that resembles this description. Boo-Boo sounds insanely chic, doesn't she? Effortless gamine style. I have a theory that all writers are great fashionistas.

Attraction Du Jour

I'm not usually into blandly muscular hunks (my taste leans towards the dark haired, the wiry, the intense-eyed) but there's something about Sam Worthington that makes him an exception....maybe that he can pull off a skirt and a growl (did his voice remind anyone else of Bale's Batman in this movie?), that mix of moody sweetness that comes through when he's in lone shots, or the way he says "Don't look the bitch in the eye"....?

Knowing that he's a legit actor doesn't hurt. He comes from a theater background in Down Under and he was in that often-raved-never-seen movie Somersault with Abbie Cornish. Saw the trailer and he looked pretty good in it. He's got a natural screen charisma.

2010 Movies.....

Nothing on this list matches the excitement I had for 2009, when the trifecta of Where the Wild Things On, Bright Star, and Public Enemies had me foaming at the mouth at the mere mention or sneak preview of said movies, but I did garner up some anticipation for some new movies (some that have already been released) that I'd really like to see.

In no particular order:

Eat Pray Love

It doesn't seem like a terribly great movie, but c'mon. If there's anything I have a weakness, nay, an indulgence for, it's bohemian-chic journeys featuring sad, beautiful, wealthy people finding the meaning life through great food, sunshine, linen dresses, and rumpled lovers (James Franco and Javier Bardem, the latter who also starred in my sun-porn favorite of 2008: Vicky Cristina Barcelona). It looks like fun.

Greenberg

It's gotten so much buzz and controversy (Armand White anyone?) but the reviews that were good impressed me, since it seems incredibly hard to make a movie about a disaffected, cynical midlife-crisis without coming off as incredibly self-indulgent or annoying. And I'm so intrigued about Greta Gerwig. A brand-new American actress with the full package? YES PLEASE. How long since we've had one of those?

The Kids Are All Right

Interested, due to buzz about Julianne Moore and Annette Bening. Heard it's funny and engaging. More than enough these days.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1

Cue fangirl excitement. My devotion to Harry Potter has been off the charts over the past few months, since I'm discovering that less and less kids are reading Harry Potter nowadays. It truly, truly makes me sick and frightened at the thought of Twilight becoming more popular than J.K. Rowling's hilarious, imaginative, cross-generational (and hugely educational) baby as the years go on. Harry Potter truly made our generation as awesome as it is now. We grew up with the three main characters as our role models - compassion from Harry, uber-wit from Ron, and academic overachievement (but also grounded and wise!) from Hermione. The series emphasized friendship and kindness as the transcendent powers in addition to courage and cleverness. Not to toot my own horn, but everyone I know who grew up with the books can be counted on to be pretty cool, nice, snarky people. I can say with all my heart that these books had a truly transformative effect on us.

And the generation after us got Edward and Miley Cyrus. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. No wonder they suck.

True Grit

No, I have not seen the original (I will, I will). Yes, I am compelled by the combination of Matt Damon, Joel and Ethan Coen, Jeff Bridges, and other similarly chill and awesome-in-real-life-as-well-as-onscreen folks.

Leaves of Grass

Thanks, Roger Ebert. Crossing my fingers in hopes that it will signal Norton's grand return to the screen and another long-deserved Oscar nom. He is truly the finest actor of his generation.

Tree of Life

Fine! I have only seen one Terrence Malick movie (actually two - I also remember watching A Thin Red Line but the only thing I remembered was being startled by George Clooney's minimal role near the end, so it doesn't count) but The New World was so special and any Malick movie is an event, so count me in.

The Grand Master

Tony Leung, Wong Kar-Wai. DO I NEED TO GO ON?

The Tempest

So my sweetie Ben Whishaw rocks the shit out of Shakespeare and poetry, so I imagine this won't be a departure from his most lauded work. Plus I just enjoy Julie Taymor, Shakespeare, and Helen Mirren in general.

The Rum Diary

I'm up for any Johnny Depp movie that doesn't involve Tim Burton.

The Reintroduction of Julia Roberts

For a few years Julia Roberts was just....intensely unlikeable. Maybe it had something to do with her oscar speech, her time off, her string of thankless roles where she played uptight, gabby women which didn't really suit her "America's Sweetheart" persona. She's kind of a limited amazing kind of actress. By last year, I would have been happy never to see Julia Roberts act again.

But she's back! Our Sweetheart is back in "Eat Pray Love", a perfect vehicle for her natural beauty and a new zen-like radiance I've never seen. I'm so glad they didn't get, say, Jennifer Aniston for the movie. Not that I have anything against the latter (to be honest, I don't get the general vehemence about her) but the movie would need to play off a mature woman to make it work, otherwise it wouldn't be different from all these grating rom-com "makeover" montages. While watching the trailer, I automatically paralleled the character's journey with Julia's own life changes in the past few years - surely there was a similar post-Oscar emotional crisis, having two babies, motherhood, all that? She's grown up. And I think it shows - for once, there's not only the sassy sweetness but also endearing, soft-eyed smiles and relaxed bohemian dresses (thanks, costume designer!) that comes a little closer to Streep than Aniston. Aniston, for in her late forties is still seen cavorting with a new, younger hunk every week and dressing like a 25 year old, wouldn't exactly represent that newfound wisdom.

(I hate fade-offs! Nevertheless the shots I was talking about:)

Same expression as before? Sure. But it's addictive and gratifying to look at, because it's real star power. Yay!

The Perfect Weekend

Have any of you ever had a perfect weekend? Or not even....the perfect day? I think I just had one (after all, it's still Saturday afternoon and I have a day and half left!) And the thing is, nothing extraordinary really happened. Nothing exciting. Simply...pure and happy.

S. came down at 10 yesterday morning, in her chic and outgoing glory. First we bitched with the taxi driver about the ludicrous price (S: "But you must admit that there is a huge discrepancy between 20 dollars and 30 dollars") We went to my classes, and though there were a couple shitty classes, I was sure she arrived on time so she could come to my favorites, AP Art History and AP Euro. She was awed, and I was gratified, by the friendly intelligence and ridiculously well-spoken qualities of the girls in my classes, and how insightful, dynamic, and in-depth my two wonderrrrful, wonderful teachers were.

Thankfully, I didn't have any after-school commitments, so it was perfect - we went to Starbucks, spontaneously decided to get manicures afterwards (which were $12 and exceedingly shady, as the color of our nails changed several times over the course of the day) and hopped on a bus to see Clash of the Titans.

Oh, Sam Worthington. Adorable, with some pretty badass line delivery "Don't look the bitch in the eye!" with a few occasional cringe-worthy moments according to S, who claims that he could not yell adequately in despair (she had this problem for Avatar too). And Clash of the Titans was the perfect antidote to two restless, stressed teenagers - dumb, but entirely enjoyable with a few true WTF moments (the owl, anyone?) which the director must have known was comedy gold to teenagers. Sam Worthington may not have much of a personality, but for a Russell Crowe 2.0, he's sufficiently entertaining. S. burst out laughing at the most random moments, and I was overjoyed to see people get hurled into rock walls, as it's always a failproof source of mirth to me.

Afterwards we took out appetizers from the Cheesecake Factory - nachos and guacamole, macaroni, fried potstickers - sinfully indulgent and delicious - rambled around Barnes and Noble, and took a taxi back to the dorm where we talked (mostly me, about the girls I knew), tried on catwalk-worthy ensembles, and fell asleep around 3 AM to the drifting sounds of Death Cab For Cutie and Ben Whishaw reciting "Ode to a Nightingale".

But the best, best part, I have to say, were our conversations. Some parts were silly (S couldn't get over the way Io "died" in Clash of the Titans. Btw, Gemma Arterton was annoying as hell and I wish Sam Worthington got it on with the princess instead. There was more sexual chemistry with the two of them lying unconscious on the beach, fingers entwined, then the cliche "accidentally pin the female down in a semi-aggresive, sexual stance" moment between Perseus and Io". But I digress. We laughed hysterically throughout the day, and we talked seriously.

As the years go by, (and we see each other less and less) our conversations just get better. It never got more personal-geeky than it did yesterday. We talked about the implications of Salinger's short story "A Perfect Day for Bananafish". We analyzed the differences between the hyper-competitive, stockbroker-breeding-ground environment of our home town and the philosophical, laidback quality of my high school. We discussed our own qualities (we both admitted that we'd been raised to be "casually dishonest") and how rare it was to find a friend with both principles and personality, amid the bitchy backstabbery of the world. We discussed the paranoid-logical nature of our family (I theorized that an ancestor of ours had been majorly screwed over and that was why our family trusted no one, not even their best friends), college, fashion, New York, New Haven, college again, favorite books, the impeccably classy Emma Watson, Grand Tours (what filthily rich people in the Victorian times did - go abroad for three to four years, drifting casually from Paris to Switzerland to Rome for months at a time), the classiness of my teachers Mrs. M and Mrs. Q, of what it meant to be classy - I, for one, noted how charismatic and intimidating Mrs. M was, in spite her indifference to fashion and general boxcar-hobo appearance - and so much more.

By some alignment of the weather gods, the temperature did not drop below 70 for both Friday and Saturday. No clouds, no wind. We got up before noon on Saturday, ate waffles, threw bacon to squirrels. We weren't quite as chatty as the day before, but it felt comfortable. We merely strolled, sat on a swing bench, observed the squash courts and flooded river, and afterwards,, I sent her off to a taxi. It was a beautiful day and I walked back to my dorm with a dread for the work ahead of me and with a lump in my throat.