Happy 20th Anniversary, Barack & Michelle

Whether you like Barry politically or not, I have a hard time imagining anyone not respecting the Obamas as a couple. There's not a lot of inspiring couples these days I'd consider role models. Ones that seem balanced (ie: where the woman is equally valued, etc etc) and ones that just by looking at them, you can see how in love they still are. 

In almost every photo of Barack and Michelle, how in love they are is just palpable. I'd like to look like they do after being married for twenty years.

Too bad Barry won't be taking Michelle out for any fancy anniversary dinners tonight. He's got the first presidential debate. Are you planning on watching? Spellman and I are having a viewing party here at his house in Hollywood. Spellman, naturally, as an American male, has a huge TV and we've invited some folks over. I look forward to whatever new insults Mitt will have for me and people like me almost as much as I look forward to casting my vote in the swing state of Nevada. Maybe he'll succeed in convincing me I'm as much of a mooch on the system as he thinks I am and I'll actually vote for him. 

Are you registered? Deadline is October 7th. 

Hey, Daydreamer

I'd really like to write for Nowness. I just like their whole deal. They have great taste, the interviews almost always have some kind of angle with a fresher perspective. When I talk about mood building, I feel like Nowness does a better job of that than almost anyone. Today, I'm passing along Neil Halstead's dreamy video for "Hey, Daydreamer," featuring LA model-musician Nastassia Lindes. Shot in Silverlake and Venice Beach, it reminds me a little of my life these past days, if more of it had been shot in black and white. 

Neil Halstead: Hey Daydreamer on Nowness.com.

One Day in El Lay

Experiencing the Magical Moment of a Brit's First Taco

When people used to ask me what I missed most about the US, I would answer very quickly-- all that is ghetto fabulous and Mexican Food. Tom Smith had never. had. a. taco. Obviously, we set out IMMEDIATELY to fix this. Like, basically the first thing we did off the plane. 

McC took us to what is "in her opinion" the best taco truck in LA. It was in fact pretty darn good. Tom did not like the horchata. He did like the tacos. And the fact that in America, we put a TV anywhere we can. Even on the front of a taco truck in Silver Lake. And he noted, as I often note, that the taco is the perfect unit of measurement for food. How hungry are you? One taco hungry. No, I'm starving. Three tacos hungry. 

Never had a taco... I mean... But I suppose, in his defense, he has never been to the US (or Mexico) before. What other new things can we expose these Brits to?

Wildest Moments - Day One, Los Angeles

Today feels like this. You guys, I did a lot of LA today. More on that. I'm off to Anaheim for some theatre. Until tomorrow, here is some awesome Jessie Ware. 

Today I Go Here Friday Links

As I embark for my fourth and final city of residence for 2012, I wish I had something more concrete to impart to you lovely readers. I live, for the most part, somewhere far below the surface of whatever city I am in-- the inner life my friend Trevor recognized about me when we were very young. It's not that I'm not present. I think I am. Most of the time at least. It's just that I make my decisions from that place that is... well, it's not the real world, is it, the way I've been lucky enough to live so far?

Whatever kind of inner compass I have, I try not to tamper with it too much. I just try to be so very thankful for the people around me who support me and encourage me to follow my strange, nomadic inner compass. It's hard to live out of a suitcase. And hard to accept so much help from people. But the more I see of the world, the more I know that's what I'm supposed to be doing.

Your links:

- The professional photos from Aly's Wedding. Such good memories. Such wonderful friends. 
- Very cool. The American story via music. 
- Let's hope Mc, Tom & I can avoid Carmageddon II this weekend... oh shit. Traffic. Welcome to LA. 
- On my reading list: Italy, Edinburgh, Hollywood, NYC? Sign me up.
- I never get sick of this. Mansplainers. Let's just say, I had a boyfriend recently who is the very definition of mansplaining. 
- More on gender gap whatnot. 
- Unspeakable, soul-crushing awkwardness.
- America's Top 50 Cities. Um. Always with the San Francisco. Whatever. And putting LA as 50th? Listen, no way. I'm sticking up for you today, at the very least, Los Angeles. Don't make me sorry. 

Here's my favorite two quotes about Los Angeles. And a whole page of them for some laughs:

"When it's 100 degrees in New York, it's 72 in Los Angeles. When it's 30 degrees in New York, it's still 72. However, there are 6 million interesting people in New York, and only 72 in Los Angeles." - The Great Neil Simon

"Tip the world over on its side and everything loose will land in Los Angeles." -Frank Lloyd Wright."

Finally, "keep it, use it, build it, move it."

Wallis Annenberg Center For the Performing Arts

One thing I'm super excited about in Los Angeles is the Wallis Annenberg Center For the Performing Arts opening next year in Beverly Hills. The complex is built in the old Beverly Hills post office and will soon feature a 500 seat state of the art theatre. They're also re-imagining the old post office as a 150 seat studio theatre. Just my kind of place. History + Future. Some amazing architecture doesn't hurt either. 

I'm just going to put it out there now... I would LOVE to work here. Way to be awesome, Annenberg Foundation. I wish more of the extremely wealthy has this level commitment to the soul of America and the arts. "Advancing public well-being through improved communication." Yes, please. 

Wallis Annenberg Center for the Performing Arts from SPF:a on Vimeo.

Say Goodbye Rye Tonight at Rye House

Hope to see as many friends as I can tonight at my little bye-bye for now NYC party. We'll be hanging out at Rye House on 17th between 5th and 6th. They have boiled peanuts there. And whisky. And truffle beer cheese. And I'll be there! So what else could you possibly want?! There's still a lot of you I haven't seen in the last two months, so this is your last option. 

See you tonight any time after eight (once you've broken your fast, Yom Kippur-ers) for merriment!

Rye House
11 West 17th Street
8PM

Mary Poppins of Photography - Vivian Maier

Thanks to my friend Caroline, I've been scrolling through Vivian Maier photos for days now. As far as photographer stories go, hers is pretty up there. Often called the Mary Poppins of photography, she was a nanny and caretaker both before and after she picked up photography in just two years. But never made a real career of it. Many of her negatives were found after death in an old storage unit, where she had stockpiled found items through her years in New York in the 50s and later in Chicago. 

In her older years, she was completely broke and was taken care of until her death my three of her former child charges who pooled together. Who you let take care of you in your life and in your death is a fascinating subject for me. And so are all Vivian Maier's photos. Hope you enjoy them as much as I do. And thanks to the Maloof Collection for bringing them to the light of day and putting together this amazing book of Vivian's work. I'm all about it. 

All photos by Vivian Maier, Property of the Maloof Collection. 

New York Gems - Bash & Bow

My gypsy status in New York often makes it easier to appreciate the little things I stumble on every day. There's more excuse to walk slowly; I've got nowhere specific to be. And I bounce from neighborhood to neighborhood sampling a bit of everything. 

While staying with Aly over in Grammercy, I was totally drawn to a genius chalkboard outside one of the many boutique shops that sells a little of this, a little of that bespoke accessories. These shops are almost always cute and almost always super expensive. Over the years, I've developed a habit of never going in them. I feel awkward and bad getting the lone shop girl's hopes up when, most likely, I will choose not to buy the $9 birthday card. You can't sneak in and out to browse undetected in spaces so cozy. 

But this board alerted me that the beautiful necklace in the window (that yes, I had been eyeing) was only $25 bucks. I decided to go into Bash & Bow as much for marketing reasons as the peach quartz & gold cuff that I really really wanted. 

Once inside, I wanted everything. Leema, the owner, was so friendly and I couldn't resist complimenting her for curating a space with so many wonderful, affordable pieces. I was also understandably drawn to her story (leaving the big corporate world to apply those skills to something more personal, with more freedom and more joy) and also her commitment to finding great pieces we can afford to buy. 

I left with some gifts for the kind friends here and there who've helped me so much with my re-entry into American life. 

Check it out:
Bash & Bow
210 East 21st Street 

Moving Pictures - The Falling Soldier

Since reading Susan Sontag's Regarding the Pain of Others, which is all about visual representations of pain and suffering and the way we experience the suffering of others via the medium of photography, I've wanted to do a series on some of the career-making photographs mentioned. 

Robert Capa's "The Falling Soldier"  believed to be taken in Cerro Muriano, Spain on September 5, 1936 was first on my list, as I find it absolutely gut wrenching. A soldier, in the exact moment of death from multiple gun shot wounds during the Spanish Civil War. I've massively interested in that period in history and locale (even writing a musical about it) and this really just captures so much emotion to me. 

Not only did this photo make Capa's career (he went on to become one of the most celebrated war photographers of all time) but it has since become one of the most controversial photos in history. In 1975, accusations came that photo was in fact staged. These accusations were often politically charged and leveled by Franco supporting Falangists. Critics pointed to landscape points far in the distance and matched them up with other places, proving it couldn't be what Capa claimed. It went back and forth. The man photographed was finally identified. His brother confirmed his death at Cerro Muriano, but in 2009 further evidence in a journal refuted that testimony. People still don't agree. 

Fake or not, you can't say the photo isn't striking and moving. The way certain dance can move or haunt because you didn't expect the body to move that way. In its own way, it's utterly authentic. What do you think? You can check out the negatives at the International Center of Photography here in NYC. 

Am I In Your Light?

When I spend a lot of time around Rice people, no matter which Rice people they are, I am reminded by what a special place it is-- how weird and neurotic and striving. At least, that's how it was in the early aughts. I think we're all scared it's turned into just another homogenous smart people place. 

No matter what kind of place it is now or may ever becomes in the future, in 2000, when I showed up there, I got to live with the beautiful, self-conscious girl who would someday do THIS at the New York Metropolitan Opera. This moment remains one of the most beautiful things I've ever witnessed. Some days, I just like to dress up and listen to some beautiful performance like this. 

I'm not at the opera today. I'm at a Starbucks in the East Village writing. But I'm a bit dressed up. I've got my red lipstick on. And I'm luxuriating in all this rich Sasha-ness. I think the world could use more dressing up and going to the opera. Even if it's only in our inner worlds. 

Hope you're having a beautiful Saturday. 


This light is thick with birds, and evening warns us beautifully of death. 
Slowly I bend over you, 
slowly your breath runs rhythms through my blood 
as if I said I love you 
and you should raise your head. 
listening, speaking into the covert night: 
Did someone say something?
Love, am I in your light?
Am I?

Reclaiming the Birthright Friday Links

One week from today, I'll be leaving on a jetplane for Los Angeles and whatever my new life will be there. I'm a bit more excited about it than I feel is prudent-- especially considering my track record with moves panning out the way I envisioned them. A part of me feels like I can't spaz out; I just have to keep my head down in solemn gratitude that I have the freedom to reconfigure the way I do. 

Although, it was really just the one move that feels... tender. And even though this was not the time for me and London, I don't regret it at all. (Much.) And some of those other whimsical, determined, seeking or free-spirited moves turned out better than I envisioned, so perhaps I'm even.  

Ah, but California. California is different. Los Angeles, with all its many peccadillos, is different. A promise is made to you by the city you're born in. It says, no matter your opinion of it, or how far you may wander, you can always come back there and feel brand new. Here is where you came into this world. And where I came into the world is a major artery on an oceanside highway that never ends. A place where the sun shines almost all the time and a place that respects itself enough to never take itself too seriously-- or care if anyone else takes it seriously either. California, in one week, I'm coming for my birthright. I hope you're ready for me. 

And I hope you, dear readers, are ready for your links:

- The Stranger shows us our Country. California. Mascot: Tom Hanks. Motto: "You're Fat!"
- My friend Dave Elzer's new musical opens in LA. Justin Love!
- You guys, I think the Les Miz movie is gonna be amazing-- whole-heartedly approve of the approach. 
- The Top 50 Most Romantic photos of all time

It's International Book Week, in honor of that, check out Give A Book charity. A very cool organization that gets books to the people who need them. You get to pick the books though. Check it out. I'm a big fan! Like them on facebook too!

Some Mitt Shit:
- Amy Davidson in New Yorker
- Fine. David Brooks. 
- A Buddhist perspective on Romney's gaff.

- A West Wing Reunion for a cause
- The Soul of Scotland in pictures
- A beautiful essay on traveling
- Women speak 75% less when surrounded by dudes...

- NYC vs. LA and the winner is.... 

A throwback for you all.

Tale of 2 Biopics- the More Jeff Buckley, the Merrier

One day in Arizona at a forensics tournament, when I was a young lass of 15, my friend Trevor Banks decided to change my life, and made me listen to Jeff Buckley. This was way before his big resurgence in the aughts and was in fact, right after he'd died. 

It synced up, in fact, with one of my old school mentors Duncan Sheik releasing his tribute song, "A Body Goes Down" on one of the seminal albums of my life, Humming. 

From then until his entry into the more popular consciousness, Jeff Buckley was a litmus test-- how many people could tell if someone was 'with it' or not. 

We have not one but potentially two Jeff Buckley biopics to look forward to in the coming months. Well, if the second-- official-- one actually gets made. First up is the one that uses little to no Jeff Buckley music, but looks pretty good despite that fact-- and despite what is, in my opinion, a rather unfortunate title: Greetings from Tim Buckley. 

But it looks like both the films will have unfortunate titles, as the 'officially sanctioned' one, with the music, will be called Mystery White Boy... or, just Boy. If it happens at all. There's dramz over on the set of that one too, as it's been reported that the movie has been "bogarted away" from its original director. It was supposed to film this summer, but that never happened and has a new director?

Penn Badgely seems to be drawing a lot of praise for his performance in 'Greetings'. I buy it. But man, Reeve Carney looks JUST like Jeff. So I hope they can get their shit together. Because word on the street is Reeve Carney may be out of the pic. That would be a shame shame shame. As far as I'm concerned, the more JB biopics the merrier. 

Haw River Ballroom & My Future Artist Colony

After our awesome lunch at the Saxapahaw General Store, we walked the one one road in the town down towards the river. I fell a bit in love with this little condensed compound: a very British style pub called The Eddy, a coffee shop/arts/events ballroom, and the most amazing Sawmill-turned-exposed brick condos EVER. 

I'm dreaming of a next next summer spent living in a two bedroom exposed brick splendor for like $400 a piece and me and Steven finishing Tercio de Muerte or whatever else strikes our fancy. We'll sit outside in the mornings with coffee and strategize the day's writing. We'll write all day. One our days off, we'll go to the art gallery. At night, we'll hit up the ballroom for whatever band is has come to to this small spot on the map. 

The balance between being right in the middle of it all and being right in the middle of nowhere has become a key component of the overall balance of my life, I gotta tell ya. I wouldn't mind spending the whole summer with Lucie right up the street too. 

Everything about this area of North Carolina makes me want to sit outside and make things. Everything about it whispers in your ear how easy it is to be happy. Everything smells like cedar. Everything sounds like cicadas. The whole day, I just kept thinking, "Yep, this is what life is supposed to feel like...."

Your Local 5 Star Gas Station - Saxapahaw General Store

Since my return from abroad, I've been working a lot on retaining that British/European sensibility I genuinely identify with now that I'm back in the States (for now). But I also recognized that it's important to be where you are and love where you are. So I've been on a bit of a mission to fall in love with America again. I got a little answer to my prayers on a five day road trip through some of my favorite parts of the South (largely the hippie parts) with my family. 

Some of the best time I ever spend I spend with my Godmother Lucie-- wherever we are, but especially in North Carolina. Saxpahaw is close enough to university towns to have that feel, but out of the way enough to have small Southern town charm with a hippie soft edge. 

Saxapahaw might be the middle of nowhere, but it is the nexus of all things to love about small hippie Southern artists' towns. Our first stop was the SXPHW General Store where we feasted on brisket sandwiches and local grown vegetables, local cheeses and beers. If I had been travelling with anything more than a small backback, I would have taken a whole lot of that home (Home? Where?) with me. 

We sat in the sunshine while the vegetable garden grew all around us. There, Lucie and I plotted the artist colony in repurposed mill condos we'll start next summer... To Be Continued...

Frank Ocean & John Mayer - My New Favorite Odd Couple

My new favorite random-ass celebrity friendship is Frank Ocean and John Mayer. I mean, John did some sweet guitar work on Channel Orange, but lately, they seem to be inseparable. Frank just announces last minute that John will be joining him on SNL and then most of each song, John just stands there watching Frank sing it until it's his turn for a solo. Then, while John's playing, Frank goes to one of the several Pac Man machines and just starts playing video games, framed beautifully in profile against John playing guitar... it was wild. I love it. 

I'm glad John found something productive and not-too-talky to do while he's on hiatus from singing. (And consequently, saying fewer ridiculous statements in public.) Either way, I'm sort of rooting for this friendship. I sometimes wonder if John remembers me. (I'm guessing not.) And I want to be friends with Frank Ocean anyway, so I'd sort of like to be a fly on the wall when these two go out. Do you think John tries to wingman for Frank with hot guys? Probably not. More likely, I'd guess, Frank is helping John with the ladies. 

Check out the amazing vid for the full length version (featuring an extended, new guitar solo from JM) of Pyramids. Also check out the live versions from the SNL premiere I was mentioning. 

frank ocean [pyramids] from christopher francis ocean on Vimeo.

Downters 3.0 - Now With New Yorkers in Every Episode

Because I've never been a big fan of rules, waiting in line (queue)...that kind of thing, I have a method of watching Downton on my prefered, British, schedule as opposed to sitting it out until the American round. (Because Americans can't have nice things, right McC?) And so, tonight, Series 3 of Downton kicked off and I think it's going to be the best season ever. 

Are there still limp turkey lines courtesy of Julian Fellowes? You bet. ("My dear, I am so happy, I am so happy, that I fear my chest might explode.")

Are there still terribly inconvenient tragedies and far-too-convenient work arounds to those problems? You bet. Is Fellowes still using obstinance from ALL characters as a primary source of dramatic drive? Oh, you know it. What would Downton even BE without people making their lives harder unnecessarily? But that's what makes it so wonderful!

I don't want to give too many spoilers in here, but I think the MVPs of the premiere were Matthew (duh) specifically for the solidarity he showed in making Branson his Best Man, Branson for getting accidentally drugged and for talking Matthew out of yet another idiotic snafu in his relationship with Mary. Sleeper MVP: Sir Anthony Strallen. Way to come to Branson's aid. 

Before I roll out on Downton until next week, let's address the big ticket draw of this season: the Maclaine. I was looking forward to Miss Shirley's arrival as much as the next gal/gay/etc. I loved her lines, but her delivery left something to be desired por moi. LOVED her costumes though and her high maintenance, modern needs-- goat cheese! nothing in the marrow family! Brills! 

Here's my question. While the real Maclaine is of Scottish (well, Nova Scotian!) extraction on her mother's side and her father was Jewish, her character is  Martha Levinson...I've sort of avoided bringing it up until now, but apparently I'm not the only one to raise an eyebrow. While I can believe an Earl at the time might marry one of my American brethren (Esp. the beauteous Elizabeth McGovern-- forever seared on my impressionable child psyche as Snow White from the Shelley Duvall Fairy Tale Theatre of my youth. Vanessa Redgrave was the evil queen. Vincent Price is the narrator/mirror! I am still deeply scarred in a fabulous way from this.  [PS- Iona, you look like a young Shelley Duvall. Finally figured that out. Amazing.])  I have a much (read: impossible) time believing he would (or Violet would LET HIM) marry a Jewish American. 


But apparently, the whole shpiel is based on the real life wife of Lord Curzon, so there's a precedent, and you'll hear no complaints from me about having a few more of my fave New York Jews around the Downters. There's a reason why when people do their impersonation of me, it pretty much always includes a "Mazel Tov" (and also, L'shanah tovah, people!) in there.

And in a way, it's nice. It feels like it's bringing my two worlds together: the New Yorkers and poshy Brits. It makes the missing of these last two years of my life a little easier. And a little harder too. Welcome Back, Downters. Keep the hits on comin'.

Americana, Man

One week ago, my dad and his surrogate (my surrogate) family, in addition to some culture-shocked Scots, were rocking out to Steamboat Springs at the Myrtle Beach Depot. There was free New South Beer (Red Ale = delicious) and Red Velvet cake and brisket and pretty much everything amazing. 

Dad rocked out in all ways, as usual, but most especially, Statesboro Blues. And I got a little teary, as I always do, when they played Music Man in honor of Jeff. His son Hunter is practically a man now, and I hope a few more of these concerts and we'll have that college fund of his taken care of. 

My family's never quite been the same since my Grandfather died. It's hard to know what to rally around. But these gatherings somehow always clear up the confusion for me. I am enormously grateful for them. And for all the effort of so many people to make it happen. 

I'm not sure that my Scottish friends really appreciated what was going on. Perhaps its kind of an inside joke. But for some just off the boat Scots (And one who's reluctantly heading back) I can guarantee they witnessed some some m-f-in' Americana, Man.