I have done some hatin’ on you in the past, American South, I admit it. Everyone knows you’re a little backwards, bless your heart. But there are also some reasons I love the South, even being a hippie/woman/minority/person who recycles. And I’m going to share them with you! ...more
The Berkeley Bowl was once, evidently, a real bowling alley. With lanes and beer and cackling old ladies that smoked too many cigarettes, carried cool bowl bags and swung wildly (okay, I made that last one up). That was such a long time ago that frankly, I feel like it's just a rumor. Or some ancient-town-lore. Not that Berkeley is ancient, but whatever....more
It's wonderful to be loved by an artist. When they paint you over and over, it makes you feel beautiful.The painter and I were pen pals before we met. My roommate was dating a sculptor. The sculptor was friends with the painter, and voila! I loved to get his letters. I ran to the mailbox every day. Each envelope was a work of art. Even his signature was aesthetic--a swoop of a first initial, a period, then his last name. You can fall in love with someone who writes you a lot. Happens all the time these days.He sent me a b...more
elizabeth: Laurie and I went to see the revival of “Hair” this past Sunday in Manhattan. I remember reading about this tribal love-rock musical in 1967 and wishing I was older so I could go see it. But my parents had the local nunnery on their speed dial (my parents knew the Jetsons – look it up) and I was too cowardly back then to attempt incurring my parents wrath. Plus I would have been force-fed Frank Sinatra records and that could have scarred me for life. So finally this past Sunday I was able to let the sun shine in on a young girl’s wish.
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