beauty is everywhere, therefore a serie of sightings that helped make my day
Toothbrush
Friday, January 26, 2007
Thursday, January 25, 2007
THIS IS THE POST WHEREIN I THANK THINGS AND PEOPLE IN LA THAT HELPED GIVE ME THAT WARM TINGLY FEELING
I am excited by being in San Francisco, but I wouldn't want to have missed the eight months in LA for the world. Now we have left, I have just about forgotten the traffic, the fact that everything is at least twenty minutes by car, but usually takes forty, the sporadic days of old fashioned teenage boredom -so much to do, but so very little enthusiasm to do it - and the three weeks in the summer that it was so hot and -with no air conditioning -the only appropiate response (I have British blood) seemed to be to lie in a darkened room and move as little as possible until the heatwave passed. I have forgotten all that, and am feeling rather sentimental.
I would therefore like to thank the following persons, things and places for making my time in LA what it was:
I thank Silverlake for its lush green hills, for the lilac blooming Jakaranda trees in May, for the view from our living room window, day and night and the sunsets in autumn, I thank LA for the eternal chaos, and its seemingly lack of envrionmental planning, for Sunset blvd, lined with its seedy motels -including the signs that advertised "COLOR TV" in different colored letters -, the billboards on Sunset strip, the downtown American Apparel factory at night - my big regret being that I did not capture that on film - just as I regret not capturing the shoe store on Sunset, lit up at night, with row and rows (and rows) of sneakers, the Zen Sushi on Saturday night, with its break dancers, where we stuck out as big white giants, the bouncer named Hollywood and his friend Curtis, who, on mentioning Hollywood's name let us into the The Little Temple, where we danced, the Jamie, Jack and Stench morning show on Star radio, Crazy by Gnarls Barckley, Cocorosie, the Coffeetable where I sat with my laptop and briefly felt part of LA with the other script writers, the Comfort Cafe for its spinach and goats cheese salad, Rebecca at Ralph's for nodding sympathetically each time my Dutch bank card was rejected, the man at the drycleaners for always knowing my name, the people at Traders Joes for LOVING the things I bought, Family school as the place where Jip could run around in his underwear and where he first started saying "awesome and" dude" which, being Britsh bred, remains fascinating and apalling at the same time, of course the palm trees of LA- why must they go? - especially on Bronson going North, the Hollywoord sign from every angle, Stephen for making us walk up Baxter hill so many times - I hope you find what you are looking for, and don't shoot someone first -, the thick milk shakes at Fred 62 on Vermont, Echopark which I would have like to have got to know better, the Nail station, especially Linda with the lace pants, who resembled an sm mistress and came close when she did my full leg wax mentioned a few days ago, the Getty Centre, the Chinese take-away next to the Gelsons, Nicky D pizza's, the swimming pool at Spring Oak drive, for getting us through a very hot summer, the Wedgewood house on Franklin, the Seven Dwarf cottages on Griffith Park Blvd, the English Tudor Cottages, with thatched roofs made from asfalt, the French Chateaux style houses, the Mid Century gems, the caffe lattes with low fat milk- my addiction started here- , Michelle, for cutting my hair and being someone I didn't mind talking to while she did it, THE AMAZING CINEMAS AND OLD MOVIE HOUSES - I didn't make the most of those in LA - the walk to the Farmers market on Saturday, the Grove for being a mall with a dancing fountain and a trainride, the Silverlake Festival, where we discovered Eels are now called The Eels, but are in fact the same band, the Skylight bookstore, the mysterious Chateaux Marmont, and Britney Spears, for being in the same place as we were on our last night on the town - finally giving us a taste of the LA paparazzi - and last but not least, I thank LA for its sunshine, in spring, fall and winter.
Amen.
I am excited by being in San Francisco, but I wouldn't want to have missed the eight months in LA for the world. Now we have left, I have just about forgotten the traffic, the fact that everything is at least twenty minutes by car, but usually takes forty, the sporadic days of old fashioned teenage boredom -so much to do, but so very little enthusiasm to do it - and the three weeks in the summer that it was so hot and -with no air conditioning -the only appropiate response (I have British blood) seemed to be to lie in a darkened room and move as little as possible until the heatwave passed. I have forgotten all that, and am feeling rather sentimental.
I would therefore like to thank the following persons, things and places for making my time in LA what it was:
I thank Silverlake for its lush green hills, for the lilac blooming Jakaranda trees in May, for the view from our living room window, day and night and the sunsets in autumn, I thank LA for the eternal chaos, and its seemingly lack of envrionmental planning, for Sunset blvd, lined with its seedy motels -including the signs that advertised "COLOR TV" in different colored letters -, the billboards on Sunset strip, the downtown American Apparel factory at night - my big regret being that I did not capture that on film - just as I regret not capturing the shoe store on Sunset, lit up at night, with row and rows (and rows) of sneakers, the Zen Sushi on Saturday night, with its break dancers, where we stuck out as big white giants, the bouncer named Hollywood and his friend Curtis, who, on mentioning Hollywood's name let us into the The Little Temple, where we danced, the Jamie, Jack and Stench morning show on Star radio, Crazy by Gnarls Barckley, Cocorosie, the Coffeetable where I sat with my laptop and briefly felt part of LA with the other script writers, the Comfort Cafe for its spinach and goats cheese salad, Rebecca at Ralph's for nodding sympathetically each time my Dutch bank card was rejected, the man at the drycleaners for always knowing my name, the people at Traders Joes for LOVING the things I bought, Family school as the place where Jip could run around in his underwear and where he first started saying "awesome and" dude" which, being Britsh bred, remains fascinating and apalling at the same time, of course the palm trees of LA- why must they go? - especially on Bronson going North, the Hollywoord sign from every angle, Stephen for making us walk up Baxter hill so many times - I hope you find what you are looking for, and don't shoot someone first -, the thick milk shakes at Fred 62 on Vermont, Echopark which I would have like to have got to know better, the Nail station, especially Linda with the lace pants, who resembled an sm mistress and came close when she did my full leg wax mentioned a few days ago, the Getty Centre, the Chinese take-away next to the Gelsons, Nicky D pizza's, the swimming pool at Spring Oak drive, for getting us through a very hot summer, the Wedgewood house on Franklin, the Seven Dwarf cottages on Griffith Park Blvd, the English Tudor Cottages, with thatched roofs made from asfalt, the French Chateaux style houses, the Mid Century gems, the caffe lattes with low fat milk- my addiction started here- , Michelle, for cutting my hair and being someone I didn't mind talking to while she did it, THE AMAZING CINEMAS AND OLD MOVIE HOUSES - I didn't make the most of those in LA - the walk to the Farmers market on Saturday, the Grove for being a mall with a dancing fountain and a trainride, the Silverlake Festival, where we discovered Eels are now called The Eels, but are in fact the same band, the Skylight bookstore, the mysterious Chateaux Marmont, and Britney Spears, for being in the same place as we were on our last night on the town - finally giving us a taste of the LA paparazzi - and last but not least, I thank LA for its sunshine, in spring, fall and winter.
Amen.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
HAIRY LEGS AND OTHER CONSEQUENCES OF MOVING FROM LA
As a symbolic good-bye to LA, I shaved my legs today. Whereas only a week ago, contemplating anything other than a full leg wax would have been unthinkable, this morning it once again seemed a perfectly reasonable thing to do, considering the growth on my legs and the inversely available time to go to a waxing place. This is what happens in times of all-consuming projects, like organizing a last minute move. My beauty routine is always the first to be thrown out of the window and my hairs are sometimes, occasionally, allowed free growth for a while. A is a patient man.
I wish it was different, but I doubt anyone who knows me will ever say: "Claire, ah yes, I remember her, and particularly how well she groomed herself at all times."
But we have moved. We are actually in San Francisco. Certain relatives were rather nervous about our intended move. Just ten days ago we did not have a house to go to, and our stuff was still scattered in the usual places. But in good tradition, we did it by working 24 hours a day for a few days, not stopping for food, drink or sleep, obviously leaving no spare minutes for frivolous last minute waxing expeditions, and here we. No troubles. Currently hairless and ready.
As a symbolic good-bye to LA, I shaved my legs today. Whereas only a week ago, contemplating anything other than a full leg wax would have been unthinkable, this morning it once again seemed a perfectly reasonable thing to do, considering the growth on my legs and the inversely available time to go to a waxing place. This is what happens in times of all-consuming projects, like organizing a last minute move. My beauty routine is always the first to be thrown out of the window and my hairs are sometimes, occasionally, allowed free growth for a while. A is a patient man.
I wish it was different, but I doubt anyone who knows me will ever say: "Claire, ah yes, I remember her, and particularly how well she groomed herself at all times."
But we have moved. We are actually in San Francisco. Certain relatives were rather nervous about our intended move. Just ten days ago we did not have a house to go to, and our stuff was still scattered in the usual places. But in good tradition, we did it by working 24 hours a day for a few days, not stopping for food, drink or sleep, obviously leaving no spare minutes for frivolous last minute waxing expeditions, and here we. No troubles. Currently hairless and ready.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Dear Bas,
This morning I walked past a line of people in front of the sneaker store on Sunset Blvd. They were waiting for the store to open; presumably a new sneaker had come out. I thought of you.
It has been ten days since we buried you back in windy Amsterdam, but is seems a different world now we are back in LA. Your heart stopped while you were jogging, only 34 years old. You left behind Sara and your beautiful son of 18 months, Elliot. Nothing good can be said about it.
We didn't know each other that long. Just a bit over 3 years. But there are not many people you really make a concious decision to befriend. And that was the case with you and Sara and me and A.
We were all going to New York. A was running the marathon and you had planned to, but had an injury. You and Sara came along anyway. I noticed on the plane that you and A hit it off immediately. I was not convinced, you looked a bit too hip for your own good, but I thought Sara loooked georgous, so I was giving you the benefit of the doubt. We had a wild night that ended in a bar with a name that reminded me of Last Stop but probably wasn't because I tried to find it on internet, but it certainly was the last stop for a varied collection of New Yorkers; a manicured, white suited black pimp with a poodle, Jewish law students with unruly hair, so stoned they felt the need to undress on the dancefloor (that lit up), a few experimental dj's and us. We spent two more nights together after that, when the rest of the runners went home, and that was the basis.
Back in Amsterdam, despite good intentions, everyday life sucked us in and contact was no more than a few text messages between you and A. Until you saw A in a restaurant and made a scene. "Why didn't you call.., you said you were going to call". That was it then. We were going to be friends. We didn't really go out together anymore, not like in New York. You were still on the wild side. We had Jip and had calmed down somewhat. We generally saw each other for the hangover programme: lunch, movie, dinner at our house..Elliot was born shortly after Rosie.
You and A saw each other more often,but I always enjoyed seeing you and Sara too. I related to you, which really doesn't happen a lot. Your love for collecting (in your case sneakers), your impressive and carfeully categorised soul collection, which A. naively asked if he could copy onto his i pod - you were not amused - your polaroids in the toilet, your love of beautiful things. I liked the way you talked to Jip, you made him laugh. You were basically cool to your toes and I am so sad we won't be having more of you.
A small consolation is that we saw each other only a week before you died. A small consolation because it was a parent's lunch from hell with Jip and Rosie (not Elliot) making so much noise and trying to escape, squeezed into the corner of a crowded and smoky cafe, that we merely made an attempt at conversation, eyes glazing over every so often, when another wail came out from under the table. We were going to do it again at a better time, better place.
Bas, we will miss you.
This morning I walked past a line of people in front of the sneaker store on Sunset Blvd. They were waiting for the store to open; presumably a new sneaker had come out. I thought of you.
It has been ten days since we buried you back in windy Amsterdam, but is seems a different world now we are back in LA. Your heart stopped while you were jogging, only 34 years old. You left behind Sara and your beautiful son of 18 months, Elliot. Nothing good can be said about it.
We didn't know each other that long. Just a bit over 3 years. But there are not many people you really make a concious decision to befriend. And that was the case with you and Sara and me and A.
We were all going to New York. A was running the marathon and you had planned to, but had an injury. You and Sara came along anyway. I noticed on the plane that you and A hit it off immediately. I was not convinced, you looked a bit too hip for your own good, but I thought Sara loooked georgous, so I was giving you the benefit of the doubt. We had a wild night that ended in a bar with a name that reminded me of Last Stop but probably wasn't because I tried to find it on internet, but it certainly was the last stop for a varied collection of New Yorkers; a manicured, white suited black pimp with a poodle, Jewish law students with unruly hair, so stoned they felt the need to undress on the dancefloor (that lit up), a few experimental dj's and us. We spent two more nights together after that, when the rest of the runners went home, and that was the basis.
Back in Amsterdam, despite good intentions, everyday life sucked us in and contact was no more than a few text messages between you and A. Until you saw A in a restaurant and made a scene. "Why didn't you call.., you said you were going to call". That was it then. We were going to be friends. We didn't really go out together anymore, not like in New York. You were still on the wild side. We had Jip and had calmed down somewhat. We generally saw each other for the hangover programme: lunch, movie, dinner at our house..Elliot was born shortly after Rosie.
You and A saw each other more often,but I always enjoyed seeing you and Sara too. I related to you, which really doesn't happen a lot. Your love for collecting (in your case sneakers), your impressive and carfeully categorised soul collection, which A. naively asked if he could copy onto his i pod - you were not amused - your polaroids in the toilet, your love of beautiful things. I liked the way you talked to Jip, you made him laugh. You were basically cool to your toes and I am so sad we won't be having more of you.
A small consolation is that we saw each other only a week before you died. A small consolation because it was a parent's lunch from hell with Jip and Rosie (not Elliot) making so much noise and trying to escape, squeezed into the corner of a crowded and smoky cafe, that we merely made an attempt at conversation, eyes glazing over every so often, when another wail came out from under the table. We were going to do it again at a better time, better place.
Bas, we will miss you.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Friday, December 22, 2006
Dear Jip,
This afternoon was fun. We cycled through Amsterdam, with Rosie on the front humming along to the motion, and you on the back, moving recklessy from one side to the other to get a view. We were on our way to find 'superheroe' shoes, with spikes, as you said you REALLY wanted after I had described the ones I had seen in the sale. Unfortunately they didn't have those shoes in size 4,5 years old, so we continued on our quest on this bustling xmas shopping day. We went to another shop. But there you insisted all shoes were DUMB, except the yellow and blue ones with lights and, yes spikes on the bottom. But alas, these also were not in your size. It was round about this point that you started demanding a present, stipulating that shoes and clothing did not fall into this category. I said No, and that it was nearly Xmas and maybe you would get a present then.You would have to wait. Basically you ignored this answer and every two minutes you came to ask me if I would get you something you had seen; the wooden shield, the pirate flag..in the meantime I was feeling very hot and uncomfortable in my heavy coat, running around after Rosie in the busy shop, who was enthusiatically pulling every doll in sight off its shelf and not cooperating at all when I tried to squeeze her rather broad feet into a pair of narrow FEMININE pink party shoes. Flustered is an accurate description. You probably didn't notice.
I repeated my Xmas argument. I even brought up the size of your toy collection and the million children who have nothing more than a cardboord box to play with (YES, the time is there!). You were not impressed. Your volume went up. IT WAS NOT FAIR. Why couldn't you have a present TODAY?! I just repeated myself. NO, Jip NO. NO. Your whining turned into a wail. You screamed and you shouted. It was then that I left my body and hovered above the scene for a while, just watching with amazement and curiosity. IS THIS MY CHILD? IS THIS NORMAL AT THIS AGE? WHAT ARE WE TEACHING HIM? It was time to go. You threatened with a sit-in, scowling, your arms folded and your feet apart, standing in front of the door. You sobbed all the way back, explaining that your toy collection just needed somthing new, and stopped only when it was time to choose dinner at the Italian trattoria. No cooking for your mother tonight.
You are in bed now. As usual I told you that I love you very much, even when I am angry. Which is true. I am still glad you are in bed though. Tomorrow is a non-present day again. Please understand.
Love Mama xxx
This afternoon was fun. We cycled through Amsterdam, with Rosie on the front humming along to the motion, and you on the back, moving recklessy from one side to the other to get a view. We were on our way to find 'superheroe' shoes, with spikes, as you said you REALLY wanted after I had described the ones I had seen in the sale. Unfortunately they didn't have those shoes in size 4,5 years old, so we continued on our quest on this bustling xmas shopping day. We went to another shop. But there you insisted all shoes were DUMB, except the yellow and blue ones with lights and, yes spikes on the bottom. But alas, these also were not in your size. It was round about this point that you started demanding a present, stipulating that shoes and clothing did not fall into this category. I said No, and that it was nearly Xmas and maybe you would get a present then.You would have to wait. Basically you ignored this answer and every two minutes you came to ask me if I would get you something you had seen; the wooden shield, the pirate flag..in the meantime I was feeling very hot and uncomfortable in my heavy coat, running around after Rosie in the busy shop, who was enthusiatically pulling every doll in sight off its shelf and not cooperating at all when I tried to squeeze her rather broad feet into a pair of narrow FEMININE pink party shoes. Flustered is an accurate description. You probably didn't notice.
I repeated my Xmas argument. I even brought up the size of your toy collection and the million children who have nothing more than a cardboord box to play with (YES, the time is there!). You were not impressed. Your volume went up. IT WAS NOT FAIR. Why couldn't you have a present TODAY?! I just repeated myself. NO, Jip NO. NO. Your whining turned into a wail. You screamed and you shouted. It was then that I left my body and hovered above the scene for a while, just watching with amazement and curiosity. IS THIS MY CHILD? IS THIS NORMAL AT THIS AGE? WHAT ARE WE TEACHING HIM? It was time to go. You threatened with a sit-in, scowling, your arms folded and your feet apart, standing in front of the door. You sobbed all the way back, explaining that your toy collection just needed somthing new, and stopped only when it was time to choose dinner at the Italian trattoria. No cooking for your mother tonight.
You are in bed now. As usual I told you that I love you very much, even when I am angry. Which is true. I am still glad you are in bed though. Tomorrow is a non-present day again. Please understand.
Love Mama xxx
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Dear Jip,
I am away for two days and I have heard you swapped your brand new Bionicle super beast for a little teeny weeny bionicle thingie with your classmate Liam yesterday. You stated that you decided you really only like the real Bionicles and not the Bionicle animals, and Liam wanted to swap, so it's okay. Although I can appreciate that you value friendship more than material goods, I do feel this does not do justice to the 2,5 hrs! I spent putting the creature together on Sunday. The fact that you called me the best mama in the world at the time, only went a little way to compensate the frustation of taking that long to follow instructions meant for 8 year! olds. Anyway, I understand you discussed with your papa the need to get the super beast back, so I do hope to see the ugly thing next to your bed when I return. See you tomorrow. Mama xxx
I am away for two days and I have heard you swapped your brand new Bionicle super beast for a little teeny weeny bionicle thingie with your classmate Liam yesterday. You stated that you decided you really only like the real Bionicles and not the Bionicle animals, and Liam wanted to swap, so it's okay. Although I can appreciate that you value friendship more than material goods, I do feel this does not do justice to the 2,5 hrs! I spent putting the creature together on Sunday. The fact that you called me the best mama in the world at the time, only went a little way to compensate the frustation of taking that long to follow instructions meant for 8 year! olds. Anyway, I understand you discussed with your papa the need to get the super beast back, so I do hope to see the ugly thing next to your bed when I return. See you tomorrow. Mama xxx
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