Poor Care.

Ugh. I watched a biography of Carole Lombard today, the same one I watched several years ago. I cried then and I cried today! I'll never get over it.

Obviously she's terribly beautiful but I don't really like the photos of CL as seductress. She was such a crazy card that who wants to stare at another aryan siren reclining in silk when you can see photos of her sitting with her ankle on her knee on the set as she asks some visiting nuns if they want her to help them get laid tonight.

I decided to stop wryly blaming Clark Gable for her death. It's an easy joke to make when you consider he was home fucking Lana Turner (ALLEGEDLY! and can you imagine? blah.)[1] while Carole was on tour selling war bonds in the first days of our involvement in WWII. Carole caught wind of that rumor and chartered the doomed flight home immediately, hopefully intending to slap his fake teeth out. He knew this and blamed himself for her death his entire life. His anguish was obvious; he flew to the crash site and had to be physically restrained from joining the search party, hindered as it was by the forest fire the wreck had created, for survivors on the lonely side of the mountain. He only would have found a gruesome nightmare. Months later, he enlisted in Carole's honor and served until 1944. Most people in his inner circle called him a shadow of the person he had been before she died.

[1] what am I, a catty gay entertainment columnist specializing in dead people of the 1930s? goddamn right, except I'm not gay (biggest regret) and not a columnist (2nd biggest regret).

I kissed a polish lancer, too...before he died

Ninotchka is so icy, just like LA GARBO (don't get me into my hatred of her stage name again) in real life. No one else could have played this role. And though it was a day when frozen little blondes were a dime a dozen in the 30s, no one could have matched her austerity. A lot of roles are mis-awarded to the wrong person and because I've been watching TCM like it's the news, imagining another actress made me think inexplicably of Jean Harlow, and how she would have been as Ninotchka. The New Jersey Ninotchka. Anyway, Garbo owned this role, but the first time watching it was boring. Second time, I started to get the jokes. Obviously the male romantic lead is no good as they were all no good in the day with several exceptions. It's really difficult to accept ultra-urbane original metrosexuals (but oily, hokey chaps of the 30s wouldn't be the originals, would they? who should we attribute that to? 17th century french male aristocrats? this effete behavior has been going on since the pharaohs) as anything other than a brother or a gay friend, but whatever. I just deleted a tangent about Leslie Howard, who deserves his own post anyway.

Anyway. Garbo is so DOUR in this movie. I love it. The way she treats what's his face in the beginning is certainly the way I have felt when in unfortunate company. She has zero inclination or ability to conceal her distaste.

WWBDD

I have never liked Joan Crawford. She must have gotten to me as a child somehow because when I see her aged face, I think of severe elementary school matrons; tight-lipped, icy old thornbushes. I guess I changed my mind at some point, however, because when I watched Baby Jane last night, I actually felt a dash of warm familiarity as I searched for remnants of 1939 JC in 1962 JC's face. I've watched The Women so many times that my love for her as bitch homewrecker Crystal melted my anti-Joan sentiments. And who the fuck am I to dislike a woman's irregular beauty? Sorry Joan.

She was a bitch, though. We know this. And when it comes to taking sides (which I do early and often), I am BDATW

BETTE DAVIS ALL THE WAY

The Chandler Ostrich Centennial

I will be working the Ostrich Festival next Saturday.

This in spite of some ugly memories of being almost-attacked by an ostrich at a private zoo in the early 90s; I figured it was time to let go.

Luckily I don't think I'll be within striking distance of anything. I will be there to discuss the importance of the upcoming Chandler Centennial, and apparently conducting a survey re: "Do you care about the centennial? Y / N" - feel free to leave your response in the comments if you cannot make it to the ostriches.

Some day.

This is a pretty forgettable piece, How to Figure Out if You're Happy, but this quote resounded with me as I am a lifelong planner-for-tomorrow:

"Do you think you’ll be happy eventually, so that it’s OK that you’re unhappy at this juncture? Do you think that you’re "putting your life on hold" so that it will be better, later? Do you think there is a "one day" (i.e. “One day I’ll do it, when I feel more ready”). I think that the universe is not privy to your plans."

Keith's gravelly velvety voice.

I can't embed for some reason, but here's a link.

Teri Gross is the most annoying interviewer ever with her constant stumbling over her words and grunts and gasps as she struggles. She still gets a pass, but goddamn.

Patron Saint

"I am made to live alone." JB

Li li li li li li li

mercedes sosa is amazing.

No homework Sunday

the desert is beyond beautiful today. rain always does this. the air is fresh and cold and everything is in technicolor. i practiced trying to walk silently, disturbing nothing, but it was difficult. so i laid myself down on fractured pieces of green shale that looked like tile on the desert floor and thought about absolutely nothing, and it was incredible.

blogger is acting all crazy with photos. i can't deal with it because i've already forgotten how to use the internet and i don't have the patience to fuck around with this stuff. the cool thing about being newly unused to reading blogs and other internet randomness for hours at a time is when i do try to now, i'm immediately disinterested. i just want to spy on/pick on friends and look for zuni rings on fuckin' ebay, DAMN.

i'm going to go get lost in the desert again. i'm not a very good outdoorsman because i do things like wander for an hour from one trail to the next or off trails until i realize that i will need to figure out where i started at some point. luckily i happened to walk in a giant circle today. i guess i could have used google maps to save myself! the internet vindicates itself once again.

a smile fell into the grass

but i still feel amazing. weird-amazing is still amazing.