FROM 20th CENTURY SCOTTISH POEMS, SELECTED BY DOUGLAS DUNN (track it down; it's worth every penny):
BRIAN MCCABE (b. 1951)
Don't you fancy me in my black
Watch me arch my agile back,
show my underside's pale line --
like an inky, questing tongue.
Do I disgust you?
I am not the only libido
to ooze from this dark earth.
Haven't we met somewhere
before? What are you doing here
on this rainy afternoon, alone?
My tapering finger is beckoning
you to your likeness.
Pictured: a Jello-based dessert with osmanthus petals and "real gold" flakes.
Tonight I had the pleasure of spending the evening with good, good friends and I discovered a new ultrafavorite spot downtown. It was so deluxe and delovely (and cheap! -- Kirin Buy 1 Get 1 Free, 10% discount on everything for cash -- and charming! -- lemon-infused water, great service) that I had to end my hiatus for a moment to tell you personally to check out Yozakura Kushiyaki bar on Ludlow Street ASAP.
Bryan discussed his latest venture, overseeing editorial content for Brijit.com, which is kind of like The Week for the Facebook set. Maud looked like she just stepped off a runway in her perfectly edgy dress, which was sort of vintage Vivienne Westwood meets Commes des Garcons with a dash of Antwerp Six, and envy-inducing Mary Jane pumps (I never wear heels but lately all I can think of is Yves Saint Laurent's Tribute Mary Jane; I even Windowlicked them in person so you know it's for real). We talked about books and how badly we want to see The Book of Revelation screened in New York. And of course, our plan to acquire shirts that say "I go down easy" before Max's show at the Knitting Factory next Saturday night! Also, Max promised to make an "Italian Ice" ringtone and we made him swear on it.
Hope you are enjoying the waning days of summer, doves! One of these days I will get my hands on that photo of me wearing a tiara while swimming last week, but first I have some things to do for current projects, and wait until I tell you about the fall agenda... went to a board meeting for Girls Write Now last night and it was an evening par excellence. Right this second, I'm about to go make a cup of tea before bed and watch Lux Lotus BFF Stephen Lance's new short film, Yolk, for the fourth or fifth time (is it possible to overstate his genius? No.) Life is good. Back in a flash. XO.
The last ten days of summer are for... watching Wong Kar-Wai movies, seeing friends in person, talking on the phone, daydreaming of grand adventures, prepping for a dazzling fall, running errands, catching up, falling behind, rearranging furniture, wishing on stars, swimming if lucky, sleeping late, eating well, laughing loud, and not... blogging. Thinking about Lux Lotus always reminds me of perhaps my favorite expression of gratitude that I ever sent: "THANK YOU in a thousand twinkling lights strung across the city just for you." Today it's for you, dear reader; as a handsome man once surprised me by saying, I like you so much. Enjoy the rest, and the best, of the season. Tot ziens. XO.
PREVIOUSLY: More Dancing, Less Typing (For a Minute).
Mary from The Bedroom Reader and I met up for a glass of wine at the Pink Pony earlier this evening. She is so smart and chic that she reminds me of Proust: "Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom."
She asked me what music I've been listening to lately. Here's my late summer top eight:
At Lux Lotus, poetry is always de rigueur. Today, Christine Boyka Kluge, who participated in an online roundtable discussion I put together with the Emerging Writers Network last year, writes to say:
"Stirring the Mirror, my new collection of prose poetry and flash fiction, was just released by Bitter Oleander Press. I've been levitating since the book arrived. I love the way the cover turned out. A woman in Poland took the haunting and riveting photograph we used. I was thrilled to have blurbs from Peter Johnson, Ray Gonzalez, and Mary A. Koncel, all extraordinary writers and gifted prose poets."
Here is a poem from Boyka Kluge's previous book, Teaching Bones to Fly:
THE ABSENCE OF A HEART LEAVES AN HOURGLASS SHAPE
Overnight, she is different.
Now she breathes only sand and salt,
clouds of talcum and dust.
Her chest is a hole
dug in a desert dune.
She inhales to fill it,
exhaling only shadows.
The absence of a heart
leaves an hourglass shape.
It takes so much time
to replace the missing weight.
Tears spent, she ignores thirst.
She doesn't remember food.
She closes tight as a seed,
storing herself for later.
She no longer craves even air.
But, oh --
the possibility of lightning,
like a crack in the purple-black sky,
the sweet chance of rain!
She dreams of flowers
like hundreds of crimson mouths,
parting their lips
among cactus thorns.
You can order Stirring the Mirror here, and also visit Christine's new blog! You can also experience the above poem in spooky-beautiful interactive online art style, in a gorgeously Lynchian collabo with artist/designer Rick Mullarky and composer Kala Pierson.
Photo: Hilary Swank by Inez Van Lamsweerde and Vinoodh Matadin for the Pirelli Calendar (2007).
Today I got my hair cut by Gerald DeCock at the Hotel Chelsea (direct #: 212-337-1254), who I adore (especially since before I found him I thought I'd have to go back to Antwerp to "do the pony," which was an exey proposition). Afterwards I contemplated BBQ, among other things...
PS. Gerald's summer reading list includes Liz Taylor's biography (did you know she was born with two sets of eyelashes?) and The Andy Warhol Diaries, which are very very funny and cool and reminded me of my favorite Warholian observation: "I really do live for the future, because when I'm eating a box of candy, I can't wait to taste the last piece."