No, I don’t understand, per say. But I got a crush on you.
Monthly Archives: January 2009
Is what I want to know. But I’m just going to have to settle with the helpful synopsis posted by YouTube user kasiharjuna:
Hare Rama Hare Krishna – Dum Maro Dum
By: Zeenat Aman
Singer: Asha Bhosle
Dev Anand and Zeenat Aman are siblings who are parted when their parents divorce. Zeenat Aman thinks her brother is dead. Anand becomes a pilot and knows that his sister has joined drug-addicted hippies. He finds her in Nepal. She refuses to recognize him. He falls for Mumtaz, but does not tell her about his sister. He marries Mumtaz later and then tries very hard to revive his sister. When Aman realizes that he is indeed her brother, she can’t face up to him and commits suicide.
Starring: Dev Anand (Prasanth), Zeenat Aman (Jasbir/Janice) & Mumtaz (Shanti)
Writer, Producer & Director: Dev Anand
Lyrics : Anand Bakshi
Music Director : Burman R D
Beware of darkness. —George Harrison
I’m thinking we’re in need of a nice, sweet Hare Krishna palette cleanser….
Thanks for the suggestions, Wendo! OMFG to you, too.
When it comes time to select from your wardrobe which oversize James Dean belt buckle goes with which hardware store bought chain worn as jewelry goes with which set of denim on denim goes with the given hair-DO you find on your head upon rising from your pillow, recall the work of Karlheinz Weinberger and just go for it.
The average size of an automobile, afternoon tea (of course), hats not for warmth, that for them “fanny pack” is really crude while “bum bag” is a reasonable term for a fanny pack, serving an honest pint when a pint is ordered, Sister Wendy, British Vogue, telephone booths, red bicycles (apparently), The Tate Modern, coordinating the tartan on your doggie turtleneck to the one on your umbrella, rhubarb yogurt from the corner market, Mimi bags, wax fabric from Petticoat Lane—each one, a dignified reason for wanting to visit England over and over. And now I find this pair, Guy Hills and Kristy McDougall:
Who for their outfits and raw spools of thread alone warrant a heady dose of jet lag. And then my travel fever troubles are infinitely compounded by their finished product, this insane Dashing Tweeds cape that is day and night whispering sweet airfare nothings into my ear from across the pond.
You see, not only does it look amazing in the daytime when paired with crimson lips that match your tights that match your bici rims….
This mama glows at night! That’s right—the cape is made of breathable, Teflon treated tweed that is woven with reflective thread. That is to say, “A unique weave of wool worsted and reflective yarn, LumatwillsTM appear by day only in their smart combination of colours. By night, under illumination, hidden reflective lines shine out, offering an inventive and stylish solution to attire for the pedestrian, cyclist or scooter rider.” Oh snap. Beats a sporty windbreaker any way you look at it. (As does colours! Such an improved spelling!)
And if they’re offering bespoke capes, which they are, don’t mind if I do. With a price tag that reads at least £485, I better get exactly what I require. I’ll go in for the cycling cape in the Bauhaus-inspired New Wave tweed, with a bit of lavender and plum running through. Yes, sir, such a wee swingy, water resistant, reflective only at night situation would suit me just fine.
“John Updike was the best American writer of the second half of the 20th century. I mean, I’ve read all of his books.” —My dad, Mike McGettigan, who is generally a nonfiction, presidential biography sort of guy.
“Rabbit at Rest is one of the funniest books I’ve ever read. I mean you read it and you just, you laugh out loud.” —My dad, Mike McGettigan, who generally does not laugh out loud whilst reading. Personally, I really appreciate it when a book lives up to its incredible rainbow/stripey cover. These all do.
I also admire an author whose face and hand gesture and costume satisfies the reader’s high esteem for his work. His certainly did.
Lisa and I just got home from visiting Leila Castle at her lovely cabin up in Pt. Reyes Station, where we picked up a stash of bath salts to be made available at the shop. Leila first started working with essential oils and natural botanical perfumes over 25 years ago following a course she took on wildcrafted fragrances at the old bookshop up in Nevada City. She has been creating goddess blends, mixing personalized scents, and teaching aromatic alchemy workshops ever since. Today she works out of her kitchen at home. We selected a variety of bath salts called West Marin Trees, which includes essential oils of Bay Laurel, Eucalyptus, and Fir that when taken together, particularly in a hot bath, unlock the dazzling sensation of coming home to our beloved mesa. We hope to share the thrill far and wide.
Another thrill of visiting West Marin that has yet to be captured in a fragrance is visiting Leila’s goatie neighbor snuggling up to his goatie shed in the afternoon sunshine while his hen and miniature horse friends scamper about. Our attempt to bottle his deep feeling of contentment is underway….
Even more stoked than the young man in the red v-neck sweater up on the top of the fire escape prop.
Where I am and what I look forward to fighting for, living in The Town That Fought to Save Itself, as depicted by Orville Schell in 1974. “Summer,” especially, kills me.
Setting aside the terrifying prospects for our parents’ retirement plans and for Detroit and for students needing help for college and for everyone’s general economic wiggle room, it seems to me that quite a few standard measures for living modestly and well in this current economy are actually way more fun than how we were going about things during the boom. Planting a wee Victory Garden for your herb + veggie needs, hitting up the thrift store before the chain store, staying home to cook more often, going for a hike outside instead of going to the gym….Yes, please!
And I’ll tell you what looks good, too—this cartoon citizen who first traded in her gas guzzler for a more stylish and sustainable mode of transportation back the 30’s in an effort to revitalize the economy following the Great Depression. Man, do we need her back. Next stop, Prosperity for this patriotic lass! And we can all have a really good time drafting behind her with our baskets full of reasonable-sized parcels from Gravel & Gold (wink, wink). Now, if only we had a trustworthy leader to help us on our path….
Voilà! And yes, that’s him on the tricycle, too. So then, Admirable Quality #730: Lifelong stylish cyclist.
Really good dance moves and possibly better apartment inspiration from Bob Fosse’s “All That Jazz.” There is nothing in this world better than two on one in-house dance recitals.
My dear Ian, Lisa and Sus—next time you find yourself on the edge of your own Pointless Forrest, with no projector with which to watch your favorite Harry Nilsson movie narrated by Ringo Starr—don’t get yourself all racked up and jammed. I got The Point:
“You gotta open your mind as well as your eyes. But first you gotta get it together, you know, be cool. Dig yourself. Get the messege? Now, here’s the lick: You don’t have to have a point to have a point, dig?”
Oh, diiiiiiiiiiiiig. Us stone folk is everywhere.
Sara picked this up in town, tucked away in the only possible establishment that would offer such a wonder. It’s got a white ribbon sash leftover on the backside from the time it was exhibited in the 1979 Festival of Needlework by the artist, Peter Ashe of Needlepoint Originals, SF CA.
We’re talking variously textured landscape portrait petit-point of—must be!—our very own coastline heading north toward RCA. Right? I’m telling you. The trees are fluffy. The mountains have a stitch all their own. The sky is the miscellaneous color of milk. All is calm and lapping. I know this place!
Today Mista Christie returned home from his week of assiduous pen to paper work at our house—but not before bestowing this very fine portrait from his Moleskin kit upon our entryway table.
If I may, I would like to suggest that for the next Obama swearing in, Aretha should sing this classic from 1986 instead of another big time anthem-type deal. Also I suggest that she accompanies herself on piano, because she does that very well. And I just think there should be more rainbows involved in general.
Our responsibility to make art based on the president has never been more clear.
Thanks to Reference Library for leading the way to this trove on eBay.
This morning our whole household woke with the sunrise, made tea and an O-shaped breakfast pastry, poured mimosas, and were nervous together.
Only to share in the great success! Rick Warren was a joke—what was with his pronunciation of the girls’ names? Aretha wore a very good hat, though I wish I could have seen more of it and fewer stock panoramic shots of the Grand Canyon and the Picturesque Hard Scrabble Vermont Farm while she sang (Lisa’s filmmaker soul was a little bit crushed). His hand on the Bible upon which Lincoln pledged, Obama fumbled the oath, breaking the messianic spell, and was human again. The speech was good—more pragmatic than I was expecting. Some nice Dr. King nature/Bible images. But his Chicago acceptance speech was the one for the books. Everyone looked warm enough—and Sasha squirming about during the classical performance was the good and right thing for her to do. Malia was the consummate lady, looking just like her mama. And finally: Isabel Toledo and J Crew gloves. An excellent choice.
My favorite part was just the sound of Dr. Joseph E. Lowery’s voice, finally letting the whole event in, at the end. And his standard line from the civil rights chant, “Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around, when yellow will be mellow, when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right. That all those who do justice and love mercy say Amen. Say Amen”