I forced myself to read The Awakening during my trip to Texas this week. I had picked it up to read so many times before, but the language of the era had always stopped me from getting past page 25. This time I was determined, especially since I was captive for six hours with nothing else but American Airlines magazine and maps of the DFW airport at my disposal. The story made me think a lot. At times while reading I would lose myself in the streets of New Orleans [one of the settings in the novel] wondering what it would be like to spend my days wandering around visiting friends and drinking coffee in outdoor cafes. I wondered what it would be like to have no responsibilities other than those of a wife and mother. In Edna's life even those responsibilities were limited. Her husband was away from home most of the time, and there were servants to help care for the children, cook and clean. What would be left? I can understand the darkness that befell Edna in living this life: the frustration, the loneliness, the absence of purpose.

As Edna's behavior began to change within the story, I went down a mental sidestreet. I sat on the plane staring into space for some 30 minutes plus wondering why it is so difficult for us as humans to allow our loved ones to change. Why do so many of us insist that relationships stay exactly the same forever? We seem to accept only inconsequential changes and tend to allow only terrible tragedy as a mode of true growth. Is it easier to believe that our friends are exactly the same people that they were when they were 12 than to try to understand where they are, how they are, who they are now? It's almost as if our minds won't let go of that very first picture we had of someone, like it doesn't know how to categorize and catalog the growth that happens from years of living. Why?

Let me know what you think of The Awakening. How does a human being become a possession and who/what is at fault?

Namaste

Still Here

I just got back from dinner...this time at Jimmy Corino's. It was ok. The bread was good. The service was excellent. That's one thing I've noticed about the people here...they are all friendly. So far I've had pretty great service everywhere I've been. Even the airport employees are nice here.

A friend of mine just called from Myrtle Beach. I felt embarrassed that I was already in my room, already in my pajamas, so I didn't mention it when he asked what I was doing. It's 7:20 p.m. The sun has yet to even set here. That's another weird thing about Texas. It doesn't get dark here until about 8 or 8:30 p.m. It's deceiving...well, to other people I would think it is deceiving. I am the kind of person who gets in bed at 7 p.m. when they're out of town for fear of missing their flight the next day. I'm pathetic. Last night I fell asleep at 8 p.m. watching a PBS special on Oprah's family tree. What is wrong with me?!

I always eat too much when I'm out of town. I eat because I have nothing else to do. I hate going to the movies when I'm out of town. It's just too unfamiliar. I already shopped and had to stop myself before it was too late. At least the wind stopped whistling violently. My face is actually windburned this afternoon. Well, I'll go now. My ramblings are beginning to get on my own nerves. Tune in tomorrow.

Namaste

Still in Texas. Just finished with work and am listening to the wind whistling outside. It never stops. This is one place where it pays to have a really great haircut...as in a hairdresser who knows what they're doing. No hairspray on earth (even Freeze Dry, Suz) could hold up against this. It feels like a twister is going to blow up any minute ALL THE TIME. Granted, last night there was hail, but this is crazed. It sounds like 75 fifth graders warming up their recorders.

Today we went to lunch at a fabulous Mexican restaurant. This place has nearly as many restaurants as residents. On one side of this block alone there is Logan's, Carino's, Lin Buffet, Country Buffet, Joe's Crab Shack, Arby's and Kabuki. Across the street is Hooter's, Outback, Blue Star...I don't even know. Every city block is the same. The Mexican taco shops alone could fill all of Lone Oak. Last night I ate at Kabuki. It's new and elaborate with interior sound effects of thunderstorms that gear up about every 30 minutes complete with rain that falls into a mote that encircles all the hibachi grills. While eating my much too well done tuna steak, I noticed that they have a roped off (and clearly marked) "VIP Area" with red carpet and the whole 9 yards that leads to a loft for private dining. I wonder who qualifies as a VIP in this town.

Namaste

DFW

I’m at DFW now, and it’s a whole new ballgame. It’s like a busy mall here with all types of people, all ages, all types of stores and restaurants. I am sitting at my gate. There is a drama queen in a wheelchair right behind me. She is yelling at her attendant. “I SHOULD BE MOVED OVER IN ORDER TO KEEP OUT OF THE WAY OF THE ONCOMING PASSENGERS.” He is quite young and a different color from her. She assumes much from this.

I am waiting at B9. It just emptied out and is slowly beginning to fill up again. People stroll through the open hallway with their rolling luggage. Almost everyone has something that rolls. I think about how proud I would be if rolling luggage were my invention. It has changed a lot about travel. People love it and they also seem oddly proud of it.

I spoke to an older Blythe Danner look-alike in the restroom wearing a pink cardigan sweater set a few moments ago. She said she was headed to Palm Springs. She is a native of Michigan, and when I told her that I’d just come from there a few days prior, she indicated that she hailed from a golf club community near the area I visited. I’m not sure why she felt compelled to say golf club community. I guess I hadn’t responded appropriately when she told me the name of the town. She asked me what I was doing in Michigan and where I was headed now. When I told her, she said “Hmmm. OK.” and left without saying anything else. Afterward, I thought that maybe I should have said, “Have fun in Palm Springs.” But then I thought I didn’t really want her to have fun or at the very least didn’t really care if she had fun or not.

It is humid here, much more humid than it was in Nashville. It is also warmer by some 15 degrees outside and at least ten degrees inside. There is a thing called the Skylink at DFW that is comparable to the monorail at Disneyworld. It connects all of the terminals. The older people appear to be a little scared of the Skylink. The hesitantly step on and off it and never seem quite sure of where they should get off.

I am seated in plain view of one of the security checkpoints at the airport. I like watching people take off and put on their shoes. It’s such a personal offense. It was only when I took off my shoes at BNA that I noticed how dirty they were on the inside, how worn. For some reason I suddenly wished I’d worn another pair, a more expensive pair. Right now there is a guy putting on a belt in front of me. He is looking around aimlessly trying to pretend he is not doing what he is doing. He is hiking up his pants and checking his watch. I feel for him; it’s incredibly demeaning. Boarding call. Talk to you soon.

Namaste

BNA

I’m sitting in the Nashville airport. It’s 8:15 a.m. I have 45 minutes to go until boarding. As usual, I couldn’t sleep last night. I have both an unconscious and conscious fear of missing a flight. I woke up five times last night finally giving up and rolling out of bed at 4.

Sitting in airports is interesting. Most people try to be inconspicuous, and if you look at them, they will look away as if startled. Looking around right now, about 45% are reading newspapers, magazines, books. There is one guy talking on his cell phone in his outside voice. It’s one of those tiny ear phones which makes him look a little effeminate and makes his head look huge. His significantly heavy significant other is sipping her coffee and rubbing his back as he shouts in the air careful to avoid any oncoming glances. They both just finished gigantic honey buns.

There is a man two rows away wearing a straw cowboy hat with leather trim who is traveling with a guitar. He looks like a cross between Woody Harrelson and Steve Ervin with a George Hamilton tan. His son, who appears to be about seven years old, is wearing a huge black sombrero with silver trim. The son is five seats away from him, bored and fidgety. The guitar is leaning on the dad's leg. He occasionally moves the guitar around, leaning it this way and that, making sure it is close within his grasp. Meanwhile, the son is doing a backbend over the edge of the last chair in the row with the neck strap from the sombrero bunched up and stuck completely in his mouth.

There aren’t many kids or young people headed to Dallas. Mostly they are my age and 20 years older. The 20 years older crowd travel in pairs – husband and wife teams. The 40 somethings appear to travel alone except for the cowboy and son. It’s funny the number of people who read business books when they travel. I wonder if it could possibly be for pleasure or if they’re scared of losing their jobs.

The significantly heavy significant other can’t seem to stop touching her loud talking man. As I sit here I wonder if I’ve ever felt that way about someone. Surely I have, yet I can’t remember.

The rain is easing up outside on the runway and the sun is beginning to peek out. The Nashville airport is a pretty nice airport. When I think about the Memphis airport, I feel that BNA is pristine. They are calling for boarding. Off to DFW.

Namaste

Not sure why I'm posting this. I just thought it was a little hilarious, I guess.

I just finished watching Me Without You and feel like stabbing myself to death with a KFC spork. This movie takes the concept of codependency to a new level. I can't say anymore. I'm too exhausted from watching this movie.

Namaste

Still in Michigan. Shhh. Testing is underway. I am on campus now. There was a big mix up with the test location today, and I ended up in a classroom. We have five minutes to go until the next test. The students look finished andthey should be "checking their work," but they're not. They're staring at me.

This campus is like a maze and is the largest thing in town. It's like a small city driving around in it with twisting/turning lanes which track back over and on top of each other over and over again. It is smack dab in the middle of the town...almost like a town within a town, and its perimeter is dotted with fast food restaurants, banks and pharmacies. From what I understand, the townspeople don't care for the college even though it's the life's blood of the town. If it weren't for the college, most of the residents would be working at the boot factory, but I guess the townspeople don't really think about that.

There is a Wal-mart and a Meijer, an Applebee's and a Ruby Tuesday. When I asked some of the residents what there is to do other than eat, they told me about a brand new bowling alley. Sad. I was surprised to see that the restaurants still have smoking sections here, and lots of the clientele take advantage of it. I've been wondering if the state of the economy keeps people so depressed that they continue to smoke regardless of the screams of the surgeon general. Nine out of ten students that I spoke with yesterday are looking to get out of not only this area but the state altogether. Michigan's unemployment rate is currently at 7.4%. This must be a very bleak statistic for a college graduate that has just spent over $300 per credit hour (per one recent grad) on his or her education.

We are now on the last test, and the students have a scant 11 minutes to complete it. I hope they ace it. I hope the stars align and they ace the interviews, too. I hope they can somehow scratch and claw their way out of this tiny town in this cold, sad state. Please say a prayer for them. Man cannot live by SuperBowl alone.

Namaste

Nine hours. We're here...Michigan. Wow, it's freaking FREEZING up here. I think it was 50 degrees F when we arrived this afternoon, and it's supposed to be 30 degrees F tonight. It was in the 80s yesterday in KY. The trip was somewhat uneventful except for a 30 minute wait outside Grand Rapids. We ate lunch at Panera Bread. Why in hell can't we get one of those near us? Delicious homemade bread, unique sandwich combinations. I had a terrific salad today with dried cherries, gorganzola and pears. Fabulous. We had dinner at the restaurant here in the hotel, Bennigan's. There aren't very many options here for food. As a matter of fact, I would say that the size of the town is about like Murray, yet it probably has half the number of restaurants. Do people not care about food up north?

Well, that's my short update. More tomorrow.

Namaste

Getting ready for a breakaway. Heading up to the mitten state beginning tomorrow. More to come on that in the next couple of days.

I just finished watching Pie in the Sky: The Brigid Berlin Story. What can I say? I'm enamored with The Factory. I just can't seem to get enough information about the famous comings and goings and mass chaos. I'm envious of anyone and everyone (including Valerie Solanas) who ever visted it. I'm cuckoo for Andy and his friends and really want to just go back and watch everything at The Factory unfold like a campy 3D movie. It's intriguing to watch these people, now in their 60s, talk about the days at 33 Union Square West. I think about all they've seen and experienced in their lives and wonder what it must feel like to be Paul Morrissey or Brigid Berlin now. I wonder what they think about when they're having coffee or key lime pies. Do they think about mutual funds? Medicare? Or when they have that very first early morning moment of peace do they sip and think about parties and The Velvet Underground and Candy Darling and Interview magazine?

What will I think about sitting on the porch sipping coffee at retirement? What will you?

Namaste

Flourescent lights are spawned from the devil. I've never seen one person become more appealing after stepping into their freakish wash. I for one can become so disheartened after trying on clothes in a flourescent lit dressing room that I will often leave the store immediately following the trauma. And God forbid if I try on a swimsuit under flourescent light. That's enough to make a person forget the beach all together possibly forever. Flourescent lights have the power to make me feel like I'm in middle school again...and have just started my period...and everyone knows it. Flourescent lights cackle mercilessly when I inadvertently try on the wrong size. It's like they have tiny spotlights at the ready for every single flaw. Today the lights belly laughed at even the eye shadow I had on. They're demonic.
***

I just finished watching Superstar in a Housedress: The Life and Legend of Jackie Curtis. It was interesting. Jackie was one of the primary characters at The Factory during the 70s and starred in Warhol's films Women in Revolt and Flesh. But Jackie was also a playwright and poet that received considerable critical acclaim on his own, as well. The story was both hopeful and hopeless. Jackie was a brilliant writer and performer addicted to drugs who scratched his way out of the lower East side and took gender bending to another level. He committed to neither a male or female persona. The incredible part about it is that people just went with it. Lou Reed even memorialized Jackie in his song "Walk on the Wild Side." All through the documentary, people would say, "But that was just Jackie." like it was an everyday thing. Anyway, during the film, I was taken aback by Joe Dallesandro. I have read so much about Joe Dallesandro and Paul Morrisey and that whole group from the 70s, but I seriously had no idea exactly how hot Joe was during that time until I saw this film. No wonder he was in so many of Warhol's films. What I didn't realize is that he was also in Cry-Baby and The Limey. Go figure.

Namaste

The Galt House

I returned from Louisville yesterday after a short three-day conference. It was held at the recently renovated Galt House hotel downtown. The last time I stayed at the Galt House was during the renovation when I'd had the misfortune to be put in East Tower (The Dark Side). At that time the room decor was straight out of the 1970s complete with the garish early American furnishings. The hallways were dimly lit and humidity and gnats seemed to seep through the walls. The room itself smelled like a mixture of mold and outerware of a seasoned smoker, and there was a light film of unknown origin covering the windows and furniture. So when I arrived Wednesday for the conference, I was shocked at the changes. The hotel lobby was lovely with large open area seating and windows everywhere showcasing the gorgeous river view. My room was also expansive and beautifully decorated (aside from the bedding). The only glitch in the whole check-in experience was the front desk staff. It reminded me a lot of the service I consistently receive from Northwest Airlines. As I patiently waited in the check-in line, I watched each clerk's flat expressionless face as they processed their customers. They were rude and unpleasant and seemed more interested in watching the bell hops lugging suitcases in and out the entrance than in the customer immediately in front of them and actually appeared incensed that we were checking in at all. As the days progressed, I realized that this disgusted, unpleasant attitude was like a virus which had spread to all departments. Everywhere I turned for service at the hotel I was met with the same flat expression and disinterest. The one tiny glimmer of hope for the hotel was the catering staff. They were both attentive and friendly with at least a slight understanding of how this whole service provider/customer relationship works. It really made me wonder about the owners of the hotel. If I'd spent millions upon millions of dollars on renovations, I would be absolutely furious to find that the hotel value perception was being undermined by a poor quality staff. They might as well have kept the early American furniture and gnats.

Namaste

Hung, you are Top Chef

I can go no longer go without blogging about the upcoming finale of Top Chef set to air Wednesday at 9 p.m. I am so enamored with the season that I have gotten in the habit of watching and watching and rewatching episodes until my eyes bleed. I have fallen deeply in lust with Tom Collichio. I am researching tuition costs for the Culinary Institute of America. Today at lunch, I came home and watched the episode in which the contestants visit the French Culinary Institute for the SIXTH time. It's that serious.
Things have heated up in the Top Chef kitchen with only three chefs left to contend for the coveted title of Top Chef....
Dale
Dale is an out of work chef with more daring and creativity than the other two finalists combined, so daring in fact that he shamelessly used instant mashed potatoes during one challenge. While Hung and Casey play it safe with classic dishes, Dale kicks it up a notch cooking things like poussin with mint gnocchi, mustard seared alligator tail, and veggie yogurt puffs. Granted, he's a little high strung much to his own detriment, but he has game and he brings it. The way he talks about food, you'd think it was his own personal Jesus (and said almost as much last week at Judges Table). I have my doubts that he can be this season's Top Chef chiefly due to his disorganization in the kitchen. He cooks a lot off the cuff and tends to lack a degree of control. If the competition was strictly based on passion for food, he would win hands down. The guy is seriously fired up about some vittles and it shows.
Casey
Casey is executive chef at the Shinsei in Dallas, TX but hasn't always been so high on the food chain. Casey was not classically trained but worked her way to the top on sheer hard work and good instinct. There have been rumblings amongst the bloggers that Casey has gotten several breaks based on her looks, but you can't win three quick fires and three elimination challenges on looks alone. Or maybe you can, not sure. She does tend to cook more conservatively than the other two, but her pairings work well [yawn]. I believe Casey may have the goods to take her game pretty far, but she needs to get seriously creative to make it happen. People are tired of eating the same old coq au vin. Mushroom crusted loin of elk? Mushroom crusted?! Sounds like a crock pot recipe. Come on. This is Top Chef. We are down to the wire. Get with it, woman!

Hung
This guy preps and cooks like he has a liquid cocaine drip. I have never in the history of Top Chef seen anyone with these kinds of knife skills. In one episode I watched him cut up a raw chicken in three minutes...gross but impressive. He is incredibly meticulous at plating, as well. His presentations are orderly and well designed. (His butter poached chicken was gorgeous.) As far as technique, his is better than any I've seen on the show in all three seasons. It's absolutely amazing and fun to watch. His only downfall is that while Dale is all over the place (throwing out side dishes at the drop of a hat if they don't work), Hung is too controlled. Although beautiful, his dishes lack any kind of signature style. As with Casey, I wonder if he sees the world in color. He's a food geek of the highest order...all brain and no heart. Regardless, Hung is clearly the front runner in this competition. It will be fun to "watch what happens" this Wednesday at 9 p.m. (Live!)
Namaste