any human heart

My newest television diversion (I know some of you are just now able to view Downton Abbey in the States) is Any Human Heart. Based on the 2002 book by Scottish novelist, William Boyd, and superbly cast, it's my new obsession (procrastination). 


I actually think I am enjoying it more so than the book. There are a couple of repetitive devices that are getting a little wearisome by the third episode, and I do feel like they allow Matthew MacFadyen to do a lot of the heavy-lifting, but on the whole, lovely. And afterall, why NOT let Matthew MacFadyen do the heavy lifting? He is just charming charming charming. 


For those of you who liked the Pillars of the Earth adaptation, this is a big ol' reunion of that. So, get on this show, stat. It seems like you can watch it in the states, too. And if you're on this side of the pond and have yet to start, check it out on channel 4. 

new kind of new year

I was awake very late last night skyping with Steven to finish our holiday song for the Lincoln Center Songbook Holiday Concert. Stanley Wayne Mathis is singing the song (swoon) which is not about Christmas, but New Year's Eve. And what happened last night while I was revising the song from a younger person's point of view to a more mature person's point of view made me think... "This. This is why I love songwriting."


I changed one line-- one word, really-- and it cast a new light on all the previous lyrics. It made them better. It turned the song into a kind of holiday song I don't think people have heard too many of before. Instead of being a bit of a tongue and cheek about how New Year's Eve is always this big anticlimactic production and the longing for something that's actually exhilarating, it's now a song about a sober person trying to stay that way on New Year's Eve. 


When I sent it back to Steven, I was nervous (but secretly, I knew he'd dig it. That's what happens when you've been working together for a decade.) He sang through it and then typed, "Whoa. You're right. It just turns." It's amazing how it gets to the point where it even stops being your song (or story or play) and just starts being the song it wants to be. It became something with its own soul and the ability to just break my heart. Because I could imagine who this character Stanley would play in the song is and what he'd been through. The story didn't belong to me anymore, but to the character who will sing it. That's the magic. 


If you're in NYC on December 13th, head to beautiful Lincoln Center and see for yourself. It's free!


What still is my story is everything that happened during this watershed year. Thanks to fancy facebook technology, I can remember through all my updates throughout 2010. Here's to 2011!

can now die happy

Nothing needs to ever happen to me again. Ever. Duncan + Depeche Mode "Stripped" = I can die happy now. Sometimes, I really do feel like Duncan can read my mind. This musical baby is really an ideal match for me. I had the actual EP (it's only a physical CD- no download option) shipped to me in Scotland, and I've been listening on repeat. Meant to share earlier, but I suppose I was coveting it a bit (love the ones featuring uber-fave Rachael Yamagata: Tears For Fears' "Shout" and The Cure's "Kyoto Song"- both are on Dunc's myspace.)


But "Stripped" feels like the day I found out about Cake Shop on the lower east side. A bar that sells cake? Cake & Beer & cookies? In the same place? It's just a sign the world knows I'm here. And that I'm listening. Let's just be honest. Nobody this side of 1989 (or...ever) mixes synth and strings like Duncan. It's heaven. You, too, can know this joy by purchasing the EP here.

And Happy Birthday, Miss Iona!

something dreamy for your monday

It's snowing again here. Surprise, right? I think I'd like to live in this commercial for a bit right about now. Audrey apparently made over four million dollars for this Chanel No. 5 Ad shot by Amelie director Jean Pierre Jeunet. I think I'll go daydreaming on this orient express train or sail to Capri. I'll be back later today. Don Paterson is going to tell us how to get published today. We'll see how that goes... hope you have a great Monday. 

Gorgeous Prints of Hadley Hutton

I don't even know how I found this etsy shop, but hadleyhutton has the most beautiful prints I think I've ever seen. They are making this romantic Sunday of reading for me, and since the sun is finally out in Scotland, I think I'm headed for a walk on the Lade Braes to see a few pretty birds of my own. 

below the beltway- tonight!

Americans, tune in today/tonight on TMC for the premiere of the lovely and treasured Miss Haviland's new film, Below the Beltway, with hotties, Tate Donovan and Noah Wylie. (I am having major crush flash-backs to my pre-teen years.)


It's been blowing up the scene at like a million film festivals and now it's headed all the way to those beacons of quality programming at the Showtime family. I mean, they're the network of Dexter. Need I say more? 


I've seen a lot of Hav's scenes and she has a really cushy part as Tate Donovan's assistant and looks radiant on film-- as always. Check it out if you have TMC. Starts at 5:50PM Pacific/ 8:50 Eastern. 


In case you can't watch tonight, here's the full schedule from Showtime.


Check out this ominous voiceover man:

how to make a snowman

In case you were wondering how we made that feat of snow-building last week, I put together this little how-to video (featuring some instrumental music from VOTE! [duh]). The real trick is to not force anything. You can't keep packing it on there, you just have to roll it. We made a little family--which people at Deans Court subsequently defaced the next morning-- but nevertheless, it was fun.


This is the last Fergie & Fife type video I'm going to post with the Ferguson & Jamail youtube account though. I've been muddy-ing the waters and I don't want that. So I'm going to make an account just for the blog, so lovely subscribers, please also consider subscribing here.


Hope you have a glorious weekend! Here are some fun links in case you're bored waiting for the weekend to start already. 

I want this coat so bad, it hurts. Literally, it's so cold, I'm in pain

Morality in Fiction

10 Years since Bush v. Gore. Sigh.

Plenty of bad reviews, but I still want to see Black Swan

McC posted this a while ago. I still agree. Still want the mug. 

I challenge you to listen to "Song I Never Wrote for You" and not cry

get it, jeremy

Our dear Jeremy Jordan, late of Tony in West Side Story, is killing it as Clyde in the Broadway bound Bonnie & Clyde. In person, when we're not scheming multi-million dollar schemes for contact lenses that make you blind, I can tell you that he has a very alarming gaze. It's unsettling. I confess, I have a soft spot for Laura Osnes as well. For more of his sick sick talent, check out him riffing in the "In Your Name" trio from Nicholas & Alexandra we recorded this summer. Hot sauce.

the jezebels

Thursday is normally my class all day day, but due to the continued inclement weather, most of them have been cancelled. So I'm working on another short story and trying to avoid watching yet another costume drama on box of broadcasts (did you know there's a documentary on the history of the costume drama? Yeah, I watched it.) 


Here is a little Australian band, The Jezebels. Totally derivative? Yes. Do I like them anyhow? Yes. Am I allowed to like a band based on their artwork alone? Either way, I do. Now back to trying to stay warm. Please send socks. I wear 3 pairs every day. Enjoy.

I Say Amazing a Lot

I realize that I over-use the word amazing. Oh well. Sometimes, it's just true. This past weekend was definitely one of the more fun since I've been here. It was great to have Iona here celebrating the St Andrews Festival with us. The fireworks on Saturday night were genuinely beautiful, despite the biting weather. Iona even taught me some dances at the Ceilidh (no small feat-- I'm a terrible dancer). I wish I had been able to get a picture of all the fireworks that were just suspended in water along the harbor, but I did make this video. Enjoy! And- Happy December!

two weeks of snow

We're supposed to have mobility-limiting snow for the next two weeks. That's good weather for writing in warm sweaters and pajamas, but bad weather for hanging out in Edinburgh, which we had been planning to do today in further celebration of Taylor's birthday. (Today is Sophie's birthday too! Happy Birthday Sophie!) (Not to mention, it's Saint Andrews Day)


Instead, I'll be watching some BBC costume dramas and writing a new short story. Plus, I have some videos and posts coming your way from our snowman building evening and the St Andrews Festival Fireworks/Processional. Since I can't give you access to all the costume dramas  that University of St Andrews so graciously allows me, instead I will leave you with the Red Hot Chili Pipers. It is as awesome as you are imagining. 

This one was actually filmed at our festival on Friday night. 

the great snow fight 2010

It started out innocently enough. We left the Russell Hotel as big soft flakes started to fall on us. In just a few minutes, all of St Andrews was covered in that clean white blanket of undisturbed snow. At first, we casually tried to make snowballs and threw them around a bit. But of course this escalated. And then we got to an alley. Iona and I knew that Taylor and Kris would be waiting on the other side of South Street to pelt us. So we stored up an arsenal of snowballs on my pizza box. 


When the war finally broke out, we didn't hit them with one snowball. Oh well. We did start a fight with a guy from his window (Actually, I think he started it.) It was really lovely because all the times it snowed in NYC, I just never felt like I had the time to go out and just play in it. (Not to mention, even when it first first snows, NYC snow is never really clean.)  This was about as fun as it gets. 


Also want to say happy birthday to that guy, Mr. Taylor. We threw him a surprise birthday party last night, but here's hoping today will be as fun as this weekend! xo

snowy sundays

Happy Sunday from our Snowman Family! Because sometimes, you just want to build snowmen at 2AM.

st andrews fest saturday

Happy Saturday from a sunny and brisk Deans Court! We had our first snow that stuck last night. Though, it's pretty much gone now with the sun. Any fun weekend plans or is everyone still in food hangover from T'giving? 

I love St Andrews three-day weekends and this one is especially good because it's the St Andrews Festival! Kris, Gretchen, and I took it easy last night. We watched The Sting (Redford AND Newman = heaven) and then, once they left, I watched Out of Africa (Meryl Streep's skin in that movie! Porcelain).

And today!! Today, Iona is coming to visit. There's a mini ice rink I'm thinking about hitting up, an art fair, and fireworks tonight. Tomorrow, there's a food festival, and hopefully more music! I heard there was a band last night called "The Red Hot Chili Pipers" and, with my love of puns and wordplay, I'm naturally distraught to have missed it. 


I'd better go get ready for Iona's arrival, but here are some of my favorite things from this week:

-The Beatles are finally on itunes!

-Great conversations with Philosophers about Wall Street

-This BloggingHeads blog about DFW, the internet, and nostalgia for the old Penn Station

-Talking about the psyche and the soul in class with Meaghan Delahunt

-Sylvia Plath and colors

-Loch Lomond

-New store in St Andrews, Twice

This picture of Paul Newman at the Strand:

Redford.

I suppose I've been sort of working up to addressing my feelings about the man. I heard he was on Oprah in the states last week. Missed it. I was on my way back from Bamff, plus, I don't even have a clue if you can watch Oprah in the UK. But oh, Redford. Basically, all my ideas about what masculinity means-- should mean?-- boil down to a single person: young Robert Redford. 


Like 1975 Redford. Or really anywhere between Barefoot in the Park and The Natural. (You know he was almost 50 when he made that movie?)

He can make anything sexy. Anything cool. I've never seen anyone but him who can actually pull off a mustache. He makes aging appealing. Sly smiles charming. So cool, he could pull off making a name like Hubbell sound badass. So cool that I actually at times considered naming my own hypothetical kid Hubbell. It's funny too because I've never been a big fan of cool, actually. But he even makes cool look cool. 


I would (and have) gotten into fights defending his supremacy in these matters. I'd contend that what most people like about any contemporary movie man they like-- is actually just Redford. That thing they like is just the Redford showing.  I suppose it's arbitrary-- the man is 73 years old-- but I don't see a lot about modern man I much like these days. So it's nice to keep one little torch burning. And hope there's some real Bob Redfords out there. Under the age of 45.


So I'd say don't mention Redford if you want me to be able to stand up afterwards. Weak knees. Happy Friday. 

happy thanksgiving from fife

If I were a Stepford wife

I'll be in class most of this Thanksgiving, since it's obviously not a European holiday. Yesterday, I heard a bunch of American undergrads lamenting four years of no Thanksgiving. But even though I'd say the holiday and the sentiments behind it are probably my favorite, I've just never been overly attached to holidays. It's like the one thing I'm not super sentimental about. 


Maybe it was my odd upbringing. When I think of family, I think of Georgia or I think of Emily's family. And most of my best holidays, looking back have been with them or with friends-- like that Thanksgiving with Schumann in Connecticut, and the one with the Stillwells and Big Bad Blackwell (even if he did give our really nice desserts from Black Hound Bakery away to  the crackheads in Washington Square Park). 


So instead of gorging on turkey, I'll be workshopping my new short story and Gretchen's story, and listening to Meaghan Delahunt discuss the psyche in writing. And that, amazingly enough, is the number one thing I am thankful for this year. 


I'm thankful to all the people who supported me in my journey here (so many people, but most especially my dad, Emily, and Steven-- who trusted that we'd still be able to get work done together with me in a foreign country). And those who've supported me since I've gotten here (overwhelming!)


Because yep, I'm most thankful that I have been able to engineer a life for myself where writing is at the center of it. And I can spend most of my day writing. It took a lot to build that. And I am thankful for every minute of it. 


Just because there's no Thanksgiving in Scotland, doesn't mean good old Robert Burns doesn't have something to say about it:

Some hae meat and canna eat, -

And some wad eat that want it;

But we hae meat, and we can eat,

Sae let the Lord be thankit.

--Robert Burns

Amen. Happy Thanksgiving. 

live free or die- wait, I'm agreeing with Ron Paul?

I am no fan of Ron Paul (or any member of the Paul family, really) and this is perhaps the least eloquent example of a high ranking, publicly elected official I can think of, and yet.... I (oh god, I never thought I'd say this) one hundred percent agree with him. Not the way he expresses it, or the logic he uses in this speech. But the idea. In general for my own logic. Let me explain.


I'm a non-violent Buddhist. The only time I ever feel brought to the brink of violence is actually in the airport. I've been preaching about the experience of flying for quite sometime.  And that's because of the demeaning way in which people are treated.


It makes me not even want to go home next month. It's not worth it even to me, almost, to see my family, knowing I'll be going through this FOUR TIMES (not just when I first get on a plane, but also in my connections in Paris) in ten days. 


Of course, it's in Vegas. And I've heard from various folks that it hasn't been as bad they'd anticipated. But isn't that almost as bad? The anxiety around all of it?


This past week, we were reading and discussing Don DeLillo's Falling Man-- specifically DeLillo's ideas (expressed in several books) of terrorism as kind of performance art. We had a pretty good, fairly long discussion of it. Without getting too in depth, basically, I agree. I wish we could find a way to stop paying attention to them. When we create reactionary policies that demean our citizens and strip away our civil liberties, terrorists don't have to blow anything up to have already won. 


And while terrorists may also want to kill people, what they really want to get at are symbols, ideas. They've done that one way, and that now that we're busy still trying to protect what they hit last time, they've moved on to an even bigger symbol-- our civil liberties. And they've tricked us into doing it for ourselves because we're scared. 


Anyhow, that's how I feel about it. Today is National Opt-Out Day. Which I guess means you have a choice: do I want everyone to see a picture of me naked or do I want to get groped?

big bad love of larry brown

My friends and I are obviously nerds. We get together on Friday nights and we read our stuff. I mean, we still get rowdy and piss off the neighbors. But I suppose it's from reading our short stories and poems too loudly? 


This Friday, I read Paddington. That's pretty much the only short thing I have. Heard some great poems from fiction writers and poets alike. 


Then, this Sunday, in another raging party, we hung out and watched this awesome documentary about the Mississippi writer Larry Brown. Our dear Brian had it shipped to Scotland from Duke University. (How he managed to track it down there, I have no idea.) 


It will definitely make you want to read Larry Brown. The still photography they used with narration of his some of his short stories was remarkably affective in places. Also, encouraging to see the lengthy lists of his short story send outs-- how often he was rejected. Really do have to have nerves of steel.


Check out Big Bad Love and this documentary if you can! 

(Also interesting. There's a lot of posthumous book publishing going on these days...only 5 more months until The Pale King....sigh)
(PS- the egregious typos I made in this post when I wrote it half asleep this morning have now been fixed. Wow.)

goodbye skye- for now.

Here it is-- the last in my Skye series-- at least for a while. Sometimes, I think I'm psychic. I've been plotting the novel I'm writing while in Scotland since this past spring in NYC. I'm fascinated by the idea of literary friendships. The way the art is changed the other artists around. How creative people get together and influence each other.


So I have a story about a literary giant, his daughter (his muse) and his protege and what happens when they form a literary community. And then what happens when  that breaks down. Without really knowing what I would do here in Scotland, or who I would meet, or what unique experiences awaited me, I made this literary giant called MacLeod. And I set it predominantly on Skye (See why I think I'm psychic?)


I genuinely feel so so grateful to the MacDonalds and to Hugh MacLeod for being my friends and for helping me research my novel under the guise of the best vacation ever. Especially learning about Dunvegan and Clan MacLeod history on the tour Hugh gave us, I genuinely felt I'd died and gone to heaven. 


Historical preservation is something I've always cared a lot about. On all my historical quests in Georgia with my Grandmother, I remember feeling sad deep in the pit of my little kid stomach looking at a beautiful antebellum home that had been turned into a bank. (Or as DFW would put it: "the constant gnawing sense of having had and lost some infinite thing.") So I think quite highly of Chief Hugh MacLeod of MacLeod and all his endeavors at Dunvegan. 


Not only was he able to turn around the finances of the 800 year old estate just 18 months after becoming Chief, but he's doing all kinds of great restoration activities at the castle. From the roof, to the decor, to the relics, he's reordering things according to the priorities of business as well as historical integrity. 


Some people just get it. And he totally does. He's exposing more of the ancient interior, noting the drawing room was essentially "a film set" (you can tell that's his day job) built to entice the wife of one ancestor to move to Skye from London. We saw one of only two ancient Claymores still in existence.  "What have we got? One of only two in existence, and it's tucked away under a staircase. We're going to fix that." 


He has a cool take on history, which I appreciated. While looking at the amazing art in Dunvegan-- Zoffanys for days-- he recalled several ancestors "The MacLeods only fight battles we can win. That's why we're still here." 


Amen. And it's a good thing they are! The 30 minute fireworks extravaganza at Dunvegan for Bonfire Night raised thousands of pounds for charity. Just amazing. 

don't do sadness/blue wind sunday

Sometimes, my love of my Morgana Karr just makes me want to melt. I'm still in physical pain that I missed his concert in Hell-A last week. Here, in honor of a kick-ass sold-out run of Spring Awakening here at St Andrews (or as I like to call it: SA in SA) is Morgster and the lovely Ms. Jenna Ushkowitz singing my second favorite song from Spring Awakening. I can't wait to buy a Morgan Karr album. I miss you, Marffin. 

For better picture quality, also try this one.

poetry's last frontier

Pretty much everyone knows my love of an Anthropologie catalogue. I'd like to live in one. Or maybe just be the in-house writer for it. And while it's exciting (detrimental to my grad-school budget) that Anthropologie is moving into Edinburgh,  it appears that there is actually a bit of a British equivalent. (Not surprisingly, I have Sophie to thank for the tip.)


Lovely States readers, do you know of Toast? Like Anthro, it's pricey and makes you want to bite your knuckles, but buy it anyhow. Personally, I feel like I  might not survive winter without with is mustard colored sweater:

I  guess I haven't gotten that mustard sweater obsession out of my system, despite already owning two. This one just looks so especially cozy. As I flipped through the catalogue while at Bamff earlier this week, so many things in it did seem so Sophie. This dress, we thought, was the intersection between Sophie-style and Ryann-style.

One of the things Sophie loves about Toast (and that I love about the Anthro catalogue in particular-- because seriously, I think I like the catalogue better than the actual clothes) is the, like, poetry in it. Is this the last frontier for the poetic? Selling cozy clothes? 


I suppose if the massive machine of the fashion industry wants the ambience and has the dough, I say mazel tov to any writer pulling  a paycheck. It's all up my alley. Toast Travels is sort of like their answer to The Anthropologist. But I dig the photo blog. And the cool features. Like this literary essay about Stories in Song by Rob Young. 


Cozy up this lazy Sunday with Toast. I'm heading back to my short story, "Stitches." If you've ever seen my jacked up ring finger that I still can't lay flat on a table, that's what the story is about. On deck for this week: Dunvegan, finally going to talk about Redford, I'll have an update from our NYC concert, and more. 

way back home- edinburgh to dunvegan

I'm a pretty big fan of the journey from Edinburgh to Skye, but not as much as Danny "Megaskill" MacAskill, who documented his bike trip back to his hometown of Dunvegan for Red Bull. I don't know much about pro bike riding (or sports in general, for that matter) but I know a thing or two about people who quit normal jobs to go do something a little bit wacky. 


This video is pretty breathtaking. I love the music from Loch Lomond and especially The Jezebels. Check it out and stay tuned for my thoughts on Dunvegan, my special off-season tour of the castle from The MacLeod himself, and how all of that relates to my new novel on Monday. 


In the meantime, watch this and consider making the journey yourself sometime.