Wednesday, December 13, 2006

The world's as ugly as sin, and almost as delightful. Frederick Locker-Lampson

Tonight's image is courtesy of Liz Cohn. Please have a look at her website, I don't feature artists as often as I should and she reminded me today why it's important! This picture is called Hormonal Sage.

You can't buy it from her website because it's already been sold, but you can buy her diary for next year, which looks awesome and is themed around collage. Anyone looking to buy me gifts, this is a good one!

Rainy Night - Dorothy Parker
I am sister to the rain;
Fey and sudden and unholy,
Petulant at the windowpane,
Quickly lost, remembered slowly.

Yesterday I was a hormonicidal maniac, or as the gorgeous Miss Clark puts it, "wearing my grumpy hat." I find it harder to counteract the effect of my hormonal cycle than I do an average moment of depression. I think this is because there is no rhyme or reason to a hormonal cycle mood swing - one minute you're fine, the next you're sad, then you're fine, then you're angry, then you're fine but you're crying and you don't know why.....

I cried off the cinema last night, which as you may remember, was my night to see the critically slated 'The Holiday' with Miss Lisa, Miss Sally and the ever-dapper Chief. By the time it came to leaving time, though, I knew I wasn't in the right head-space and I went home, tucked myself up and watched about thirty episodes of American Gothic (which I would love to tell you is my new 'House', but, entertaining though it is, isn't. I hope the good side win though, all the same.)

For those of you who still haven't checked out Mark Kermode's review of The Holiday, he opens it by saying, "They say more people commit suicide over the Christmas period than any other time. With movies like these in the cinemas, I can see why."

This adventure in the art of criticism leads me nicely to some examples of my favourite Dorothy Parker's best comments on others, which are guaranteed to make me feel better, even when hormonicidal (the chief called me witty yesterday, btw, and the Dorothy Parker that lives on in my frontal lobe positively glowed):

She runs the gamut of emotions from A to B. (speaking of Katherine Hepburn)

If all the girls who attended the Yale prom were laid end to end, I wouldn't be a bit surprised.

This is not a novel that should be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force.

That woman speaks eighteen languages, and can't say No in any of them.

Aimee Semple McPherson has written a book. And were you to call it a little peach, you would not be so much as scratching its surface. It is the story of her life, and it is called In the Service of the King, which title is perhaps a bit dangerously suggestive of a romantic novel. It may be that this autobiography is set down in sincerity, frankness and simple effort. It may be, too, that the Statue of Liberty is situated in Lake Ontario.

Today's Beautiful Things

1. Waking in the warm to the sound of a wailing wind

2. Chasing the blues

3. And speaking of blues, here's Glenn (doo do doo doo do do do dooo - oh no, that's Bod, sorry. Lou, you may be the only person to catch this reference...)

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