Tuesday, July 26, 2011

The Scentuous Woman (Or, Sensitive Persperative Concessions )

I had the pleasure of seeing Dog Day Afternoon last weekend at the Film Society of Lincoln Center. I was basking in the venue's general loveliness...until I realized where I was.

The Upper West Side.

While it is a neighborhood I love and consider retiring to it one day like it's Florida, it is less than accommodating to those who are under the age of 80. Dear reader, before you cry ageism, consider the following three totally true encounters from my moviegoing experience:

#1 Concessions of a Dangerous Mind

The single line for the concession stand was long and slow. To make matters worse, an elderly gentleman got confused and bumrushed the front of the line, causing an ocean of ladies to form a second line behind him. Fearing a riot, I stayed mute. Luckily, a young woman behind me (who must live on the UWS and have to deal with such events on a daily basis) scolded the ladies as such:

"You ladies need to get to the back of this line right now. There is only one line."

"But he got to go. I thought there was two lines! Don't yell at me!"

"He's confused. You are not. MOVE."

I was in love.

#2 The Scentuous Woman

Finally entering the theater, I heard this exchange between two older women:

"I have to move seats. I can't sit near you. I have a scent sensitivity and you are wearing too much perfume."

"Well, I'm sorry. I like how I smell."

"You're disgusting."

Luckily I didn't splash myself with Jean Naté after I showered. I might have been bludgeoned.

#3 Ode on a Damp Seat

After taking my seat, I noticed a woman standing in the aisle next to her seat. She was purveying the audience as if she were about to make an announcement or begin a soliloquy. Not happy with the lack of attention she was receiving, she bellowed:

"I can't sit here! This seat is so damp. I have to move seats. Someone has been perspiring all over this seat and it's so moist. It's not dry. Really, it isn't. I just can't sit here."

She took the aisle with a dramatic whirl and sat down again two rows behind me.

I'm sure her friends say this behind her back:

"Oh, that Joyce. She thinks she's Sarah Bernhardt."

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Old Lady Diner (Or, Turn, Turn, Turn)

One Sunday morning about a month ago, I was having breakfast at a diner in my neighborhood. Yes, I am so old that going out for breakfast at 8 A.M. on a Sunday is now a reasonable, pleasant, and thoroughly enjoyable thing to do. I now also enjoy seeing movies on weekends at 11 A.M. because it's less crowded and the youthful riff-raff is nowhere to be found.

Sometimes I think, Jesus Christ, just call the AARP already and see if you can get an early-bird discount membership.

Having breakfast at a diner that early on a Sunday means I encounter two groups of people: up-and-at-'em old ladies like myself...and...party people who are just exiting bars and clubs who are still still drunk/coked/whacked out of their gourds and in dire need of some kind of greasy sustenance.

So, on this said Sunday, as I'm casually eating a Greek omelet, a guy and a girl roll in with busted, matted hair and reeking of vodka, cigarettes, and clammy, boozy sweat. They plop down in the booth behind me. So, while I didn't have the complete visual picture, I did get to experience the following dialogue:

DRUNK GIRL: OmmmmmmmmmmmmygoddddI'mhunnnnnnnngry

DRUNK GUY: I've NEVER been here before! WHAT should I get?

DRUNK GIRL: It'slikeadineranshitsoyoucangetwhatevercausetheyhaveeverythinganshit... becauseit'slikeadineranshitttttttt.

The waiter approaches, clearly scared of what has been poured into his section.

WAITER: Can I get you coffees?

DRUNK GUY: WHAT kind of COCKtails do you have?

WAITER: It's before noon. I can't serve you drinks.

DRUNK GUY: FUCK. How about a FANCY coffee then? Like a MOCHAfuckingCHINO or something with whippppped cream and Bailey's?

WAITER: Um, yes. But no Bailey's.

DRUNK GUY: WHAT KIND OF A PLACE IS THIS?

DRUNK GIRL: Jussssgitafuckincooofffeeorsomeshittt

DRUNK GUY: OK, OK fine. Just TWO coffees.

Waiter leaves.

DRUNK GIRL: WhatwasgoingonwithyouandDaniellllle?

DRUNK GUY: Omigod. She was coming on to me. She was all "YOU'RE NOT REALLY GAY!" and I was all "BITCH. I SO am." and she was all "I'm gonna TURN YOU!" and I was all "OHNOHONEY!"

DRUNK GIRL: Omigodshedidnotsaythat.

DRUNK GUY: Oh, HONEY. She DID.

Waiter returns with coffees.

WAITER: Do you know what you want to have?

DRUNK GUY: I've NEVER been HERE before! Like, GIVE ME THE WHOLE EXPERIENCE!

DRUNK GIRL: OhgodlikeItoldyouitwasjusssadineranshit.

WAITER: Should I come back?

DRUNK GUY: What's like THE BEST thing to have here?

WAITER: Omelets? Pancakes? Waffles?

DRUNK GUY: NO! I know. I want a CHEESEBURGER!

WAITER: OK. Deluxe? What kind of cheese?

DRUNK GIRL: YouarestillsowastedIcan'tbelieveyouwantacheeseburgeranshhhit.

DRUNK GUY: Shut UP! That's what I want. Deluxe. AMERICAN cheese!

DRUNK GIRL: PancakesanbaacconIneedtogotothebathroom.

They gurgled back and forth like that for while. When I finally got up to leave, I turned to see both of them slumped down on either side of the booth, eyeliner smeared, barely conscious.

Ahhhhh...Sundays in Manhattan.

Friday, July 08, 2011

"Analog to Digital" and "Exposed" (Or, Some Toots)

Self-Portrait as Nan Goldin


Self-Portrait as Maya Deren

Yes, it's time for some toots. Four toots in two parts.

Two of my photographs (above) were selected for the Electron Salon portion of the show Analog to Digital at the Los Angeles Center for Digital Art, opening tomorrow night and running through August.

The following two photos will also be on view in Exposed: The Contemporary Nude at the 1650 Gallery in Los Angeles. The show runs July 9 - August 5.

Queensberry Street

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