Lux Lotus

I'll Be Your Catherine Deneuve

I started the day off right by reading the latest treatment for my friend Stephen Lance's first film, and I swear, it's so brilliant I couldn't see straight and I told him so. It's very Secretary meets The Graduate, and wow. I can only imagine how beautiful it will be in his deft hands (see: Yolk). Then I went to lunch and tried to get used to being in New York again after a month out West and it's so funny here, how if someone doesn't email you back in ten minutes you can legitimately feel irritated, and everything is so fast and so competitive and when I called another friend and told him I was leaving Pastis he said, "That's nice, I guess, but I prefer Balthazar." I loved that for its emblematic charm and the way this whole town runs on those sentiments. I'm getting a lot done and going out to the country for the weekend tomorrow (after Gemma in the morning and Gramercy Tavern in the afternoon) because what would summer be without the best invitations? Right now I have to finish my scheduling for next week and then it's on to the question: what to wear tonight? I have a new Marni jacket that's green cropped leather and I can't wait to wear it but it's so hot here, you wouldn't believe it. Too hot for anything, really.

What I Flew Back For

Tonight in New York: Upstairs at the Square* with Aimee Mann + Netherland author Joseph O'Neill. 7pm, FREE. Please join us.

*Previous shows now available for free download on ITunes. Thrilling!

Letter From San Francisco #2

I just had a bowl of cherries and a glass of the freshest, creamiest whole milk I've ever tasted, and then I was laying on the bed thinking about how I'll be back in New York in three days and planning the week ahead a little and suddenly it hit me: I'll have to go to lunch every day... Get dressed up, discuss business, etc.I've been out West for almost a month and I'm all country now: wearing my glasses instead of contacts, not shaving my legs, etc. And I'm not complaining at all-- I miss my life in Manhattan more than I thought I would, and it won't take me long to slip into some heels and call a car service to take me to Market Table or Pastis, whoever can fit us in on Thursday, but all I'm saying is, I'm gonna miss things like the taqueria down the block and the maple-bacon donut at Voodoo Donuts in Portland.There's something special about a leisurely stroll into a place where five bucks hits the spot.

Letter From San Francisco

In the end, I fell ill and had to leave Green Gulch a couple of days early. I've spent the last two days laid up in luxury at a friend's place in San Francisco, and now I am back to my regularly scheduled adventures although maybe still slightly a little worse for the wear. Mostly, I need to chillax for a while and walk around and let the sun shine on my face and not worry about anything and so that's what I've been doing. I have been cheered up by some awesome emails-- my favorite nomad sent me a stunning photo from the Faroe Islands this morning, where he is at the moment. How he emails me (or calls!!) every few days from increasingly remote locations (rural Maine, Nova Scotia, Iceland, etc.) is beyond me, but he sets the standard. Anyway, at the retreat, there were some real highs, like my very first morning zazen (meditation), which was a special ritual for the full moon wherein all of the monks renew their vows, and then a few days later, a bodhisattva initiation ceremony for a young woman my age. It was magical then, and the rest of the time I tried to cultivate a sense of equanimity, which feels important to me now. My favorite overall quote is from a friend of mine there, a devoted young zen monk-in-training (I can't say that without thinking of Claude Cahun!) from New Orleans who captivated me with his stories of living in Alaska to pursue a childhood dream of running the Iditarod while we pitted wild plums for hours in the kitchen one morning; regarding the zen center, "I love it and hate it at the same time." If you're interested in checking out Zen Buddhism, I'd recommend first going to a local zendo for an orientation to meditation (in New York, I've heard good things about Village Zendo and Fire Lotus Temple in Brooklyn. In San Francisco, there's the SF Zen Center, of course, which Green Gulch is one branch of, along with the Tassajara monastery). It's probably a better idea than jumping right in, although as you know, I always advocate going for it, whatever it is. Right now I'm in a cafe on Clement Street, which is kind of a second Chinatown in San Francisco, or was when I lived here for a summer seven years ago, and feeling increasingly chuffed, which is a nice change of pace. Earlier today I stepped out for a stroll and almost instantly ran into one of my favorite people, Stephen Elliott, who was riding his bike down my street, which as it turns out, is also his street. I recognized him by this adorable tattoo he has on his arm and I guess he just recognized me because people do. As it turns out we are living just steps from each other! The day after next we're going to have dinner and then I am going to go over to his place and hang out while he writes a collaborative novel with some McSweeney's types. After that I went to Japantown to read Vogue Nippon and eat tonkatsu, which is basically my idea of heaven. That's really all I'm about right now: my idea of heaven.

The Letter That is No Letter

I am on day five, or maybe day six, of a ten-day retreat at a Zen Buddhist practice center in a remote, Shangri-La-like part of the West Coast that I have never visited before. This is the year that I plan to do everything I've always wanted to do, and so it was time to fulfill my Beatnik-fueled teenage dreams! (See: The Dharma Bums). Every afternoon after lunch I walked a mile each way down to the sea, through a lush valley past fields of flowers and horses, to get some reception on my Blackberry (I can get email halfway down the beach but can't make calls), but then yesterday while we were washing dishes a friend told me where I could find the students' computer. So here I am. Everything is so beautiful and elegant and challenging! Right now I am chatting about conceptual art with this brilliant young monk and I am going to be late for zazen (meditation), and that'll never do, so that's all for now. More later, of course.

Postcards From Portland

Photo credit: Jami Attenberg.

Letter From the Pacific NW #2

Greetings, doves, on a lovely late afternoon in Portland! The Shirelles' "Baby, It's You" is drifting on the breeze through the open window and I'm content. The rest of my time in Vancouver was blissful (I loaded up on "Honey Trap" lipgloss and jasmine bar shampoo at Lush, and was delighted to discover it's possible to watch Feist/Broken Social Scene videos on television for an hour straight in Canada). In Seattle, I stayed at the Ace Hotel, in a room so well laid out that it took me half an hour to notice it had no windows-- the private patio and clear glass wall that doubled as a divider between the bed and the shower were ample compensation. I spent a morning at the Seattle Art Museum, lingering over El Greco's "Lady in a Fur Wrap" and Manet's "Gypsy with a Cigarette" (1862) in the "Impressionists and the Art of the Past" show currently on exhibition. To the extent that a city can be measured by the quality of its cafes, few can stand up to comparison with Seattle. It's a sprawled-out place, but once I got over the fact that I couldn't walk everywhere I wanted to go, things took on a more poetic and romantic quality the longer I lingered in any one place. Picking up James Salter's A Sport and a Pastime at Elliott Bay Book Company certainly helped conjure the mood. I was delighted to discover that Amy Winehouse-eque bouffants are popular, especially among women who work in restaurants and coffeeshops (the arbiters of style everywhere). I enjoyed memorable meals at Salumi and Black Bottle, and relished langorously hanging out at Bauhaus and Zeitgeist. Right now I'm headed out the door with Jami Attenberg, my stunningly gracious (and simply stunning) host here in Portland, to her reading tonight at Plan B. If you're in town, y'all come!

Letter From the Pacific Northwest

Hello from Vancouver! I thought it would be dreamy to see the Pacific Northwest by train and so that's what I'm up to at the moment. I arrived yesterday by plane, so I haven't yet officially begun, but the idea is to travel from here to Seattle and then Portland in the next few days. Right now I'm feeling fairly bullish on Vancouver-- my time here has been somewhat brief thus far, but it's possibly my favorite city since Antwerp (and longtime readers know that's saying a lot). Much of my enthusiasm is owed to the Vancouver Club, where I am staying, the kind of place where, when you ask to take the warm roasted nuts from the table up to your room after dinner, and then ask for a glass of milk for tea, not only do they happily oblige but insist on carrying it up on a silver tray. Needless to say, I am ready to move in! The one caveat about staying at any private club is that one must be mindful of the dress code. Because pants or sneakers rarely suit me, I am more or less overdressed everywhere I go. However, I recently bought jeans in Chicago (my first in years) and thought I'd mostly wear those on my little sojourn.  When I arrived here I realized I wouldn't be permitted to dinner (no "denim of any colour" allowed). The only sensible thing to do last night was to jump in a cab and go across town to Lark, a store I knew only because I ordered a pair of repurposed fur earmuffs from them last winter after seeing them online. Between that and encountering Ouno Design (creators of "what may be the ultimate Windowlicker"), I got the impression that Vancouver is a stylish place where intriguing things are happening. And I was totally right. Anyway, I popped into Lark where I chatted with Veronika who I had emailed with in the past, and they are so soigne that they have their own branded candy bars. Dark chocolate, of course. I picked up the perfect black cocktail dress by a local designer (I'd love to tell you who, but I'm wearing it right now), and resisted picking up an armload of the artfully selected wares in the shop, including those striped sailor-y French tops that I've been so enamored of lately. I'm packing light though, and I was on a mission, so I got what I needed for the evening and nothing else (except a candy bar). Although, if I ever suffer from total fashion ennui in New York, I will just call Veronika and ask her to throw something in a box for me and mail it; Lark is that good. Dinner was divine and I was so grateful that I had thrown those $6 vintage Walter Steiger snakeskin pumps with a heel like an upside down shark fin into my bag, just in case. Afterwards, I retired to my room early to watch insanely deadpan Canadian television, such as Corner Gas, for a while. There was also an amazing local public access show hosted by two true music buffs who were discussing the 13th Floor Elevators (I still remember hearing Brody Dalle cover their "You're Gonna Miss Me" at a Distillers show a few years ago). The two best lines from that episode are equally brilliant: "They were pretty obscure in Canada" and "Did you see High Fidelity?" vie in my heart for equal affection. A local band I'll have to check out is Black Mountain, up for the Polaris Prize, according to The Vancouver Sun. I would have gone for a stroll last night but it never would have occurred to me that twilight isn't until ten o'clock! I only caught a glimpse of the mountains surrounding the city as we landed, and plan to spend more time outdoors today as it is uncommonly beautiful here. I also really like the mellow vibe, which I'll attribute to better gun control and a national health care system. Canadians are more or less exactly like Americans only not so amped up. It's a charming mien. Next stop: Kitsilano Beach.

PHOTO: LARK.

The Latest Buzz

on my publicity projects is like, champagne supernova:

The Washington Post notes that it "will get tagged immediately as that story about heroin addiction, but what's best about Roxana Robinson's scarily good novel has nothing to do with opiates," and The Boston Globe praises Cost for its "fertile territory in which to explore the nature and limits of our commitments to each other." Now in its THIRD printing!

The Oregonian pronounces Rudolph Wurlitzer's The Drop Edge of Yonder "a richly layered, deeply rewarding novel." You can catch Rudy on KCRW's Bookworm on July 24.

And Men.Style.com just can't get enough of the fur hammock that Bless has installed down at Ludlow 38 as part its hot pop-up shop. Me neither!

My next event: July 30-- Aimee Mann & Joseph O'Neill "Upstairs at the Square."