Greetings From Vegas Friday Links

So much Franzen this week. Okay by me. 

- First, his awesome essay in the Guardian promoting his new book, The Krauss Project. 
- The hilarious non-backlash backlash and what that means for Franzen haters
- Finally, this. Franzy, join us on the internets.

- When a man writes a woman

More aspects of Modern Living:
- The terror that is Whole Foods
- The wonder that is Trader Joe's. (They're not really cutting their benefits. Just read.)

- I scroll through this every day. Sigh.

I finally met and hung out with one of my fave writer/blogger folks, Anne Sage of The City Sage this morning. If you aren't reading her, you should be. I have her to thank for this cool website recommendation, The American Edit. Check it. 

Peace out for the weekend, ninjas. My head hurts and it's Tiger Time. 

Friday Links Brought to You by My Boyfriend, Albert Camus

Are you the busiest ever? That's how I feel. So bring it straight to the links. I'm off to have lunch with my old college girlfriend. Haven't seen her since her wedding in 2005!! Have a fabulous Friday!

- My friends in Edi alerted me that my church is for sale! WHAT!?
- I bet my friends say this about me.
- This sounds about right. Oh sleep. Oh depression. 
- Six Feet Under style end of The Office
- My buddy Mark Fisher's new website for Mark Fisher Fitness.                                
- 15 great Sylvia Plath quotes
- This. 
- Glad this whole mess got cleared up...at least on Disney's website!
- I like a lot of those dating shows, but I'd watch this one.
- Speaking of dating, my other cosmic boyfriend, Camus, is celebrating the centenary of his birth this year and even has a new book out-- The Algerian Chronicles. Not bad for someone who died in 1960. He's like Tupac.

A Quote For Presidents' Day

Hi. I'm back. Happy Presidents' Day. I'll be more fully back later this week, but in the meantime, in the spirit of today, I wanted to post my favorite quote from Abraham Lincoln. It was always my favorite, but it took on a whole extra layer of emotion and meaning when it was uttered by Ben Whishaw, as Freddie Lyon, one of my all-time favorite television characters, in the Season 2 (and now what appears to be the series as a whole) finale of what might be my favorite television show of all time, The Hour. That episode stays with me still. If you haven't seen The Hour, please find a way to do so. 

And Lincoln, good on ya. Quite the premonition there, Uncle Abe.

“I see in the near future a crisis approaching that unnerves me and causes me to tremble for the safety of my country. . . . corporations have been enthroned and an era of corruption in high places will follow, and the money power of the country will endeavor to prolong its reign by working upon the prejudices of the people until all wealth is aggregated in a few hands and the Republic is destroyed.”—U.S. President Abraham Lincoln, Nov. 21, 1864 (letter to Col. William F. Elkins) 

This is the scene that immediately follows the Lincoln quote and ends the series. DON'T watch it until you've seen the whole thing. But please please watch this show. 

Crush Week: Bearded Aussies Justin O'Shea & Tom Bull

I did it! I found some smokin' hot male people. They aren't people I actually know, but let's just run with it. Aussies don't really crank the dials for me the same way they do a lot of ladies I know, but these two are sort of special. 

I'm pretty sure Justin O'Shea (the worldwide buying director of MyTheresa.com) is gay (I try to avoid listening to his speaking voice, in order to keep that knowledge at bay), but perhaps that's part of his appeal. It's all just hypothetical. As Anne Taintor says, "She liked imaginary men best of all."  

I feel like Justin O'Shea is the grown up version of fellow Aussie, Tom Bull. And I know, Tom Bull looks already grown up (and grown up RIGHT!) but he's like fourteen years old. Oof. He does mention an ex-girlfriend though, so at he's playing for the team. 

Blonde beards. Rugged. What is my deal? 

Groom's Cake/ Birthday Cake/ I'm a Film Editor Now

Sometimes the skills you pick up on accident while you're peddling your own wares pay off! I've been honing my film editing skills for for years now-- largely in my quest to promote our musicals and through osmosis from having so many film maker friends. Eventually, I realized it was becoming a skill I could probably and should probably get paid for. And now I am! 

I'm excited for my first big project, Birthday Cake, which is the feature length follow up the hit indie short 'mockumentary' Groom's Cake. It was written by my pal Chad Darnell (one of Haviland's first life friends: they met when she was 10!) and has won pretty much every film festival it entered. 

Now, the team is getting back together to make Birthday Cake and I could not be more thrilled to join the gang. We had a read through last night while celebrating Chad's birthday at Hamburger Mary's and I was in love with this script. I wholly support the message and spirit of everything they're trying to do up in here. It's a really lovely, heartfelt story and the main character's name is Ferguson! 

See, there are places in the arts where being anal retentive, detail oriented and obsessed with precision are calling cards and I'm just glad I'm finding my place in those places. We're also raising a few additional funds for the feature via indiegogo. Check it out!

Happy 217th Birthday, John Keats

Happy Birthday to the jewel in my nerd crown, Mr. John Keats. Today is his 217th birthday and I've been saving talking about my experience at his house in Rome for today. 

Essentially, the Keats- Shelley Museum was the primary reason for my desire to go to Rome. I knew I'd love the whole place, but that was the main event. What I came to see. I find connecting to the artists I love gives me clarity. I wanted to see Keats' things. Be in the room where he wrote and where he died. (His death and illness being such a huge well of gravity for his persona and his writings.) I'd already been to the Keats House in Hampstead, but something about this felt more important. I'm not quite sure why. 

Trusty flatmate Fiona indulged my nerdery and I just took my time in the building, looking over his letters to Fanny, his handwriting, his watch, various comic book interpretations of some of his more epic poems. There was a lock of his hair there too and I was surprised to see his hair was blonder than most renderings of him let on. 

I believe there is a soul to buildings. And I could feel the soul of this place. The legacy of those who lived and died there and a kind of cool quiet in contrast to the bustling Spanish Plaza and famous Spanish Steps just outside. There is a steadfast energy to the place. The kind Keats himself so much admired.

Of course I loved all of Rome. But if I had only gone to see my man Keatsy's last domain, it would have been worth it. Happy 217th!

What is a Rebel?

Here's a Saturday quote from my most quotable boyfriend, the sexy/brilliant Albert Camus:

"What is a rebel? A man who says no."

From the most amazing The Rebel. 

If you've never read it, run don't walk to the bookstore or internet. 

Franzen's House For Sale at Transport Group

While those in NYC start bundling up for Fall and Winter, I'm still sleeping with door open and swimming in my pool. I doubt I'll miss Winter in New York, but I will miss the start of this and every theatre season. I'm impressed with Broadway's line up this season. (They snagged Paul Rudd for...anything at all... so why complain?) There's always the spot of drama with some show never making it to performances. (Rebecca. In this case due to shady, dead investors, who, it turns out never existed in the first place.)

I've also been energized, and then of course, depressed that I would miss a few great off-broadway showings. I mean, Jake Gyllenhaal's stage debut alone was enough to make me question my decision to leave. But of all my celebrity boyfriends, no one gets me more turned on (theatrically speaking) than my very own personal abusive boyfriend, Jonathan Franzen. 

This season, one of my favorite theatre groups-- Transport Group-- is presenting a theatrical adaptation of one of Franzen's essays, House For Sale. 

Adapted by Daniel Fish, a man I think might be spying on my thoughts, is the same guy who adapted the strange and trippy stage incarnation of DFW's A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again. Fish's House For Sale seems to be along the same lines, with five actors interpreting the same essay "word for word" in different ways. I think Franzy's language stands up to repetition. I suppose I'll have to get someone to give me the recap. Theresa, I nominate you.

House For Sale starts this Sunday, October 14th at the Duke.
229 West 42nd Street

You can read the full essay House For Sale here.
Image via

House For Sale from daniel fish on Vimeo.

Clueless Reunion

While I'm still not sure why they picked seventeen years as the appropriate reunion year, (maybe it's a teenage thing?) I sure am glad there was a reunion at all for the cast of Clueless. 

I'm sure I'm not alone in saying that I was deeply affected by Paul Rudd in Clueless. (Why isn't he in this video? At least he's in the overall reunion photos. Sigh.) If you ask me, he's had the best career of any of them. 

I still love Alicia Silverstone, even though I've never liked her in anything else. And I still love Stacey Dash, even if she is pimping Romney on twitter. 

Clueless was also one of the first movies where I didn't actually see myself as any of the characters and still loved them all. Normally, I just always identified with the blonde one. But I was definitely not a Cher. Even though I did have pink t-strap Mary Janes in her honor. 

Finding Neverland & Be My Boyfriend, Julian Ovenden

One of the shows I'm sad to be missing now that I'm no longer in the UK is the world premiere of Finding Neverland. I think it's super right for musical adaptation and it sounds like they've got the right team (Ashford, Korie & Frankel. Woot, woot Grey Gardens: A show I have never ever been able to shake from my thoughts.) and the right cast. (Julian Ovenden is the hottest. The. hottest. Ever.) The show is having a regional tryout at Leicester's Curve prior to a West End run beginning September 22. I'm hoping it will eventually make its way over here. 

I will say, however, this video with the faux green screen backdrops didn't do much for me. Also, I'm not loving Julian's sound on this stuff. I prefer him here. Perhaps that's just because this is one of the best songs ever written. (What's with those wonky orchestrations at the end there, though, Proms?) What do you think of this trailer? And Julian? Sigh. 

Okay, so he's married (to opera star Kate Royal) and can't be my boyfriend. Still.

And Confidentially, She's a Pixie - Roman Holiday

By the time you read this, I should be in Rome. Our flight leaves at Seven. A.M. Ugh. And by 'our' I don't mean Gregory Peck and Me, but Fiona and Me. We've got  a little hotel in the Travastere which is good because we'll be taking advantage of the free Vatican Museum Stuff on Sunday-- also at around Seven AM. That's Fi's request. (Though I'm excited to be going. I mean, Sistine Chapel...) Mine is, of course, the nerdiest: to see where Keats died and where he is buried. He still has the saddest epitaph I've ever heard: Here lies one whose name was writ in water. My poor sweet Keatsy. How I love him. 


Another gracious, lovely man is Gregory Peck, star of Roman Holiday, (and my birthday twin) who insisted that relative newcomer, Audrey Hepburn get upgraded to equal star billing with him. That's a gentleman, folks. More on my own personal Roman Holiday when I'm back. In the meantime, let's recall a more chivalrous (**with qualifications) age. At least, a more chivalrous era in Hollywood, eh? 


Two days, a tiny backpack and a guidebook from the 70's... Italian sun, here I come!

The Comfort - Discomfort Zone Links

Most of the logistical issues I was initially worried about have fallen into place a bit easier and faster than I had originally anticipated. I don't want to jinx anything, but it sure makes it easier in my quest to try to enjoy this last time I have in the UK. 


I've been telling people a lot that thinking about leaving is sort of like a bad black hole for me, so instead I think of already being back in New York and being back in Los Angeles and that thought is thrilling. There's so much I want to be working on. So many people I want to be collaborating with. Anyone who knows me knows how much I hate the feeling of sitting on my hands. 


In any case, I feel like I've had bit clearer sense of purpose this past week: always a good idea. Here's what else happened this week. 

- Granta's The Londoners. I think it will be my final London souvenir. I'll imagine the life I could have had here and then let it go.
- If I had any money, I also wouldn't mind going to the author's dinner at Islington Metal Works.
- Some non-Starbucks options for your London "Third Place."
- While I find this depressing, here's why there was no Pulitzer Prize for fiction this year. 
- My old pal and LA On-Air personality Kade looks at some tracks from the Fleetwood Mac Tribute.
- A compelling conspiracy theory for why Saved By the Bell was all a dream. 
- Lest we forget the awesome power of Flight of the Concords + Broadway Musicals. 
- Been trying to track this down in the UK. Anything with my pal Johnnie Gallagher is ok by me. 
- Comedians & The rape jokes. This. "Your job as a comedian is to take us through pain, transcend pain, transform pain. And if you don't get that, you are a fucking bully, and I've got zero time for bullies." Boom. 


- Along those same lines, this. 
- Alex Carnevale on Iris Murdoch
- Damages is back! So far, so CRAZY!
- Is it weird that I like to watch Damages paired with Suits? Gabriel Macht. Le Sigh.
- My college roomie, Sasha Cooke, is at it again, being like the world's most amazing mezzo.  When she's not winning Grammys, she's singing with the Colburn Orchestra on this album. Check it. 


- I think I've been in denial about the odd, slow weight loss I've been experiencing for about the last 6 months. I've always been small and it doesn't feel like I've lost that much weight. The scale agrees with me. But none and I mean NONE of my clothes fit. They hang, they show my bra, I have to roll the waist down, they gape even in the butt.  I don't want to go crazy or anything, but I'd sell a kidney to just go into somewhere safe like, Gap Body and buy a bunch of soft things that actually fit me. That's how vulnerable I've been feeling. Screw comfort food. Yoga clothes that fit. That's my comfort. And, just to reiterate: Frank Ocean. 

The Self-Illuminated Links

Rain has returned to London and looks to stay for the next week or so. Meanwhile, I am trying to spend as much time with all the people who mean the most to me here in the UK before my departure. During each interaction, I think about opportunity costs a lot. I always have since the day my senior year economics professor, Mr. Swallow, introduced them onto my radar. I remember listening to him and nodding involuntarily. Yes. That was the moment I knew my enemy had a name. 


Because I sometimes have a slightly ridiculous tendency to think the rules don't apply to me, I've spent a lot of time in my life trying to circumvent these opportunity costs: rarely accepting my own limitations and ability to be in more than one place at one time. Not just in my own life, but for those I care about too. The best circumvention I've ever seen is skype. It gives me hope to keep trying to hedge these opportunity costs. I feel better when I try. 


Have a great weekend. Here are your links. 


- PS, I love that on the wiki page for Opp Costs, See Also: Have One's Cake and Eat it Too
- (And then it's equivalent in each culture/language. Excellent.)
- Here's a pre-skype way to access NYC from London. A telescope!
- American kids are spoiled. You don't say. 
- I hate quitting! Ugh! What if I pick that old phd up here?-- I mean, it's an actual job there. 


- Gordon and I are seeing Democracy tonight at the Old Vic. Is there a new Jimmy Carter of ex boyfriends in the house?


-  I will not leave Europe without going to see where Keats died in Rome. Who wants to go with me in a whirlwind like 48 hour journey? Let's stay up all night and dance, lit up, through the streets of Rome. I'll get your ticket. I got sky miles. 


- I'm gonna miss this guy. I hope wherever I land, there's lots of poetry, still. 

- When I imagine what my new life is going to be like back in the US, it sounds like this. Please, please listen to this whole album. Thank you. 

In case you can't think of what to get me for my birthday - The Keats Brothers

While taking a turn through a bookstore this week, I had one of those moments of panic that arises in me when I realize I have missed the publication of a book super relevant to my life. In this case, a new dual biography of John and his brother George Keats. 


If you read this, you no doubt know Keatsy as my cosmic boyfriend. And George, John's younger brother, is not the recipient of some of John's best and most famous letters, (including prime article of my life numero uno on negative capability) but a pretty amazing story of rise to power in his own right through immigration to America. 


This new bio, by Stanford scholar Denise Gigante reveals new insight into both men's lives by looking at their relationship. I think I actually drooled on the floor of Blackwell's. 


For more check out here & here. Also, you KNOW I'll be attending this. 

Everything All At Once Links

Everything is happening all at the same time, guys! As positivity-centered and optimistic as I am, when absolutely everything is at stake... but seemingly on-track, I start to get a little suspicious. You mean... I can get ALL the things I want? At the same time?? Like... all of it? This is when the trust part comes in. Universe, I need you to have my back right now. I know it's going to get harder than this. The challenge part I'm okay with. As long as all the plates stay in the air, I don't mind how much they wobble. Wobble away. 


The thing I'm realizing about what my year and a half of mental and emotional recuperation and exploration in Scotland meant is not that the world gets any harder or easier. You just let yourself get lax. Or... I think in this case, you just get better. 


Anyhow. I'm up at the crack of dawn this morning heading out to BumbleEff Croydon to make sure they'll let me stay in this beautiful country. Here's hoping all goes smoothly and by the end of this weekend, I'm feeling settled in my new spot on the Earth with a bang-up presentation all finished and ready to go for the job I just can't stop thinking about. While we're standing by, here's what's what from the internets this week.


- Some cool Zodiac drawings. I like how the Aries girl has blonde curly hair. Duh. 
- Vulture has really been on it lately. Thirteen Blonde Movie Villains. 
- Also this. Novelist as Marlboro Man. 
- The GOP is so. off. the. rails. 
- One of my favorite twitters is the Sorkin Dialogue "Sorkinese." You should follow. 
- Gordon made such a sell of this book about a Kenyan corruption whistleblower, I had to pass it on. 
- Congrats to uber-awesome Matilda on leading the Olivier Awards with 10 (aka ALL the categories!)
- I knew I was right about ALWAYS painting your bedroom. 
- Just in case you want a tour of my house. I plan on replacing pretty much everything on those walls. 


- Finally, a March Madness I can get behind! Vulture has a greatest tv drama of the last 25 years bracket going. Up this week was Mad Men v. Lost with Mad Men advancing to the next round. I should say. While I have mixed feelings about some of the advancing shows, I applaud the idea and the general candidate pool. I foresee a final match up between The Wire and Sopranos with Sopranos taking the title. (People get so hot for Sopranos...Sigh.) Which of course I will hideously and vehemently disagree with. 

Crush Week: Ioan Gruffudd

Sometimes, when Zaza and I have been separated by our various travellings, we feel the need to overcompensate with an extended series of girl-time sessions. This week, we started that bastion of late 90's-ness, Hornblower, featuring the hottie Ioan Gruffudd in his younger days. 

Zaza is who also taught me how to pronounce Welsh, so for you Americans reading this, the double d is pronounced like a "th." (Side note, the one Welsh sound my mouth just won't make is the "Ll" which is essentially the sound of a loogie. The name Llewelyn has lost all its charm.) So but that makes Gruffudd is just "Griffith." 

Homeboy is a serious hero. He's always saving someone. He's always, like, the only boat going back for Titanic survivors. Or looking for downed Black Hawk planes. He plays roles like "Lancelot" (you might have heard of theguy) or "Mr. Fantastic."  You see where I'm going with this... 

(Only notable exception: Tony Blair in W.)

Anyhow, personally, I prefer the man in his current more weathered, manly incarnation. But the boy charmer who starts as a seasick, stuttering midshipman and ends as a heroic captain in the 18th Century Royal Navy is also good fun. Those curls. The swashbuckling. It's pretty dreamy. 

And even though the hair still manages to look nineties-ed-out, (even with extensions and wigs!)  and even though there's one shot where you can see a trailer park in the background, Hornblower is stil first rate costume drama fun. In fact, there is a little thing called HAW-- that's Hornblower Appreciation Week. I shit you not. Peep that if you get the chance. Along with any of Ioan Gruffudd's other performances. Your eyes will thank you. 

A Gift from the Writer Gods

Sometimes, you get a little gift from the writer gods to let you know that they love you, and they want you to be happy. Jeffrey Eugenides' new novel, The Marriage Plot, and this amazing article from New York Magazine were two such gifts from the patron saint of researchers and academics. 


I've been researching pretty hard core only for several weeks now. It's hard to know if you're getting anywhere sometimes. Sure, I've found a lot of stuff. I have a lot of pdfs set to read on my kindle. I have made a lot of notecards. But are those just fun tricks to convince myself I've got something tangible? Especially when most of it isn't on these post-post modernists guys I'm mostly concerned with. 


Part of the reason I'm interested in these guys academically is because, so far, they aren't really being discussed. Up until now, they were just too young. Didn't have enough material. And I was sort of feeling around in the dark about these hunches I had about certain aspects of their friendships played out in their work. 


For whatever reason, this article soothed me-- confirmed that I was on the right track. Though pretty stinkin comprehensive for an NYMag article, it kind of scratches the surface of where I wanna go with this research. Just listen to this quote from Wallace in a letter to Franzen: 


"You seem so mad at me. Why do you want to be my friend?"


Ugh. Amazing. They were fighting about each other's writing. About the fate and future of the novel. What the post -post modernist novel should be. It's like lit-cat-nip. 


My friend Brian (who is a writer, I should point out) says he's absolutely uninterested in anything going on with the contemporary novel. And yet, he's writing one, here in 2011. What I've discovered about myself over the last year or so is that I was either wrong about myself, or I'm in the middle of a bit of a paradox. Because, while I consider myself to be a deeply nostalgic person, nothing--  nothing, interests me more than whatever is going on in fiction right now.


Read The Marriage Plot. I had to make myself put it away last night. I'm up early read it again today-- on a hunt in a post-post modernist roman a clef (even if Eugenides says it isn't. I don't think I believe him.)

(All photos from the NY Mag article)

I could never fast from Fassbender

For the past several days, I've been on a bit of a Fass-bender (See what I did there?) Why is he so attractive? I'm in the process of putting together my initial bibliography for my phd and let's just say a lot of my reading has been rather depressing. So I turned to this half-German, half-Irish stunner to be entertained. Turns out, Fassbender's work errs on the depressing side as well. 


When he isn't being killed by Chavs, Nazi Soldiers,  Charles I loyalists (or possibly Oliver Cromwell) in films, he's killing someone else, turning evil, locking his crazy wife in a tower, or smearing feces on a wall and starving himself... and then dying. Don't get me wrong- he's turning out some fantastic performances, and, hey, at least he looks good dying. 


(Except in Hunger. You guys, I'm not kidding. Have you seen this film? Fassby went on a medically monitored crash diet and everyone around him feared for his life. If  you watch, you'll see why. Near the beginning of the film, during a 17 minute single-take shot, as I watched M's shirtless stomach expand and contract with each breath while talking to a priest, I thought, "Shit, he did drop some weight!" Then! His character, IRA leader Bobby Sands, says he's about to START a hunger strike. And I thought, "You've got to be kidding me! You mean it's going to get worse?!?" Oh and it did. I'm trying to think about what kind of mindset you'd have to be in to do that for your craft. And how come I find this kind of extremism and dedication to craft so (hypothetically, if not actually) appealing? 


Let's hope this extremism doesn't apply to chose charges (later dropped) by his ex who claimed Fassby was abusive. That would just break my heart. 


One more bonus of being in the UK, is that more of his projects are available because they were made here for the BBC, etc. For my US readers who might feel so inspired, you can watch The Devil's Whore (worst title ever, about the English Civil War) and Angel on youtube. 


Also, can I just say how excited I am to see him as Carl Jung? (I'm looking into Jung's treatment of Lucia Joyce at the moment for my phd.) Opposite Viggo Mortenson (his older bro look alike) as Freud?? Only the loathesome Keira Knightley appears to be marring the amazingness of A Dangerous Method. And this is just one of the slew of new movies coming out with Fassby, so expect him to be a star that continues to rise. And as soon as he dumps Zoe Kravitz and moves back to the UK, we can get married. ;) Hope you have Fassb-- I mean-- fab (okay that one went too far) weekend!

Baby Loves Bieber

It's been ages since I've hit you with some giggles from the TL monster. Oh man, she's cute these days. She sings and dances and has whole conversations with you that she thinks make sense, but really don't. And when she does speak English, she's singing Happy Birthday or telling you who her boyfriend is and singing one of his biggest hits. Carley Nunn and Kristen Delbosque, I have a feeling the following might appeal to you. 


This kid is just pure joy. I dare you to resist her charms. 

More Mora

Remember when I said that this guy was something special? To mark my words, he was going to blow up? Well, it turns out that the day after I said that, he did. (Seriously watch that.) It was the Festival of San Fermín in Pamplona. The whole day was hailed as a disappointment except for David Mora. 


He was gored twice. Once in the thigh and once in the armpit.  And it made me genuinely frightened. I actually thought, "What if I lose him!?"-- as though I actually knew him. But that's just the thing: I feel like I do. 


Despite my many conflicting emotions about the corrida, ('fight'-- bullfight, bullfighter-- 'fight' has never been the right word and never the word they themselves use) David Mora makes you reconsider the whole thing. Much like Enrique Ponce was for AL Kennedy while she was writing On Bullfighting, watching David Mora is the closest the corrida gets to a religious experience. (Enrique Ponce, as it turns out, was David Mora's sponsor in his alternativa.) And I think religion is an appropriate way to discuss it. Because I was raised Buddhist, so I don't have an attachment to the deeply ceremonial aspects of, say, Catholicism. But there are some churches, some cathedrals, and some sermons that I have heard by some priests and some reverends that make believe and understand. 


David Mora is someone who makes you love something that repelled you, and see something by seeing it the way he sees it. 


Without needing to know anything about cape work or rules, you can see-- even I could see!-- from the very first, that he was just plain better than everyone else. Listen to the audiences. Even in the last year or two, he's banished from himself those last flourishes of ego, of strutting. He's all business, and all love. Even with his ass hanging out, even when he went up against the Miura bull, his grace makes everyone else around him look like a hack, like a strutting peacock. Anytime I see a clumsy step or pass, a scurry, I know it's not my David.


Odd, I know. To say "mine." But as soon as I made him Aries Brio, he became mine. 


I can't tell you how many videos I've watched, how many websites I've translated. I feel like I could spot his work anywhere. Turns out, matadors are sort of difficult to get in touch with. But I really want to interview him. Like really. I found out his agent is Antonio Tejero, but haven't figured out a way to contact that guy. Anyone know? Can anyone help? (Bernardo Cubria, I mean you!) 


Watch for yourselves and see. 

David Mora by dtoros