Countdown to e-launch

I am getting very excited about my forthcoming eventure in epubbing. I have never worked so hard in my life. I thought this book was hard to write... that was nothing compared to getting it out in the world.

The blurbs are starting to come in and I am so grateful to the authors who have read and commented on "Imperfect." It's very heartwarming to receive these from people I admire so much.

Then there's this - it is the 'gathering spot' for news on this book.

And I even have a new email address for this book. (imperfectthenovel@gmail.com) I wonder if anyone will write?

The book is cracking open on March 20th. And with it, I think I'll be cracking open, too. At least cracking. In a good way. Is there such a thing?

I hope so.

Foreign

I had a wonderful morning at the Academy of Motion Pictures. The five nominees for Best Foreign Language film spoke on a panel. My dad, a long time member of the Academy, votes in this category. There are approximately 60 movies that get whittled down to five, and tomorrow one winner will be named from those five. The directors, four men and a woman, were all passionate and articulate. I have a feeling Iran is going to win with A Separation, but that's only because it seems that film has gotten the most press. My favorite speakers were Israel (Joseph Cedar) and Canada (Philippe Falardeau), though they were all wonderful. I can't wait to see the films, many which are now in theaters and a few coming over the next months:

Foreign Language Film:
Rundskop (Bullhead), Michaël R. Roskam, Belgium
הערת שוליים (Footnote), Joseph Cedar, Israel
W ciemności (In Darkness), Agnieszka Holland, Poland
Monsieur Lazhar, Philippe Falardeau, Canada
جدایی نادر از سیمین Jodaeiye Nader az Simin (Nader and Simin, A Separation), Asghar Farhadi, Iran

Speaking of foreign, this behemoth......has been parked outside my apartment for the past 4 days. This photo doesn't do it justice. I have no idea why it's here and quite honestly feel a little weird at night when I'm changing for bed. Can they see in? The other day on my run I asked a few dog walkers what that yacht was all about. Two of them said with certainty that it's the billionaire Russian owner of Stolichnaya Vodka. One asked if I've seen the helicopters landing on the yacht (I haven't). No one knows why it's there. I'm guessing Academy Awards? Perhaps Stoli is a sponsor? I guess we'll see tomorrow night. At night the yacht is all lit up in neon colors. Again, this photo doesn't capture it. It's kind of like the inside of my Mini Cooper - one night it's green, the next blue. What a mystery!

FInally, here is my new book's cover. I am so thrilled with it. Kim Killion of Hot Damn Designs put it together after I picked the egg image. The book cracks open in mid-March. This has been a very empowering adventure and I can't wait to share it with you.

Off to See the Wizard

My latest exercise craze has been biking to the Santa Monica pier and back every other day. This 70 degrees winter weather has been a dream come true and I zip down the bike path fully appreciating the golden sand and sparkling sea. The other day I realized my trips to the pier resemble that of the journey in the Wizard of Oz. No flying monkeys or Opium trips (well, that might actually be happening at the boardwalk), but lots of surreal sights, nonetheless. Take, for example, last Friday. I hopped on my bike and sped down the alley until I reached the bike path. I'd forgotten both my sunglasses and my iPod so I was really forced to look at my surroundings. A homeless man made eye contact with me. "God Bless you," he said, nodding. I was blessed by God four times that day. Did I look like I needed help? Had I sneezed and not heard myself? Or is that just the new greeting? Further along I spotted a woman riding her bike on the other side of the path. She had headphones on and was singing "I'm Not Gonna Write You A Love Song" at full volume in a high pitched operatic tone. I saw a dog riding a skateboard, a dog in a bike basket, a dog wrapped like a scarf around a rollerblader. And when I biked under the pier, I emerged at the giant tent - the wizard of Cirque du Soleil, which is pitched for their latest show, "OVO". L.A. is many things, including the land of illusions, but one can't deny how colorful it is - from the blues and yellows of the beach to the blues and yellows of circus tents...

Goodbye, Ruby

I opened up the latest issue of the UC Davis Magazine today to learn that Ruby Cohn had died.

Ruby Cohn, a noted Beckett scholar, was one of the first professors I ever had in graduate school. She taught in the Graduate Theater Department. When I saw a Beckett class in the catalogue I rallied to get in. I'd taken a lot of Playwriting and Drama courses during my undergraduate education. Rumor had it that she had also been his lover. How could I pass up the chance to learn from his muse?

Ruby Cohn was mean.

And old.

And humorless.

And hard.

I was the only Master's student in her class, surrounded by didactic Ph.D candidates. I was 23. They were...older. I was intimidated, SO intimidated. It didn't matter that I'd read "Waiting For Godot" for the first time in my AP French class in high school. Crap, "Godot" was the easy one. It was "End Game", "Krapp's Last Tape" and "Happy Days" that were the doozies. I think we even read his essays and novels. I had to write a 20-page paper at the end of the quarter. What could it have been about? I remember meeting Ruby Cohn one-on-one to go over a draft I'd written and I don't think she was impressed. I believe I even spelled something wrong and she looked at me with disgust.

Becket died in 1989 and this was 1992, so in retrospect, Ruby Cohn might have still been mourning his loss. I'll never know. All I know is that I strive to be the OPPOSITE of Ruby Cohn in my teaching. I am friendly, humorous and certainly NOT intimidating. Sure, I get mad at typos and misspellings but I don't glare.

Her obituary said she stopped teaching at Davis in 1992 so I probably was one of the last students to have her. I wish I remembered her fondly. Perhaps I remember her for all the wrong reasons. Or maybe, just maybe, on some weird, subconscious level, she's the reason I got into teaching in the first place. Stranger things have happened. (Just read Beckett)

RIP Ruby Cohn.

A Gem in my Own Backyard

Last weekend I went for a bike ride with a friend where we stumbled upon the Marion Davies guest house, still standing in Santa Monica. Marion Davies was the silent movie star and mistress to William Randolph Hearst.

From Wikimapia: (Wikipedia is down for the day protesting SOPA and PIPA!)

William Randolph Hearst might have been the first media mogul of the 20th Century. In his day, Hearst owned 28 major newspapers and 18 magazines, as well as radio stations and movie companies. Santa Monica’s Gold Coast was so desirable that in 1929, Hearst, one of the richest and most powerful men in America, commissioned Julia Morgan (the architect of the Hearst Castle) to fashion an estate on 4.91-acres of beachfront property for his mistress, actress Marion Davies. Morgan created a three-story, 34-bedroom Georgian mansion on the Pacific Coast Highway in Santa Monica. It was accompanied by three guest houses, two swimming pools, tennis courts and dog kennels. Called "Ocean House" or "The Beach House," it was the grandest property in the neighborhood. Rumor has it the cost was $7 million dollars. The mansion is long gone (The Sand and Sea club stood in its place for years, and now the Annenberg Beach House is there) but one of the guest houses remains. My friend and I entered the home and were met by a docent who imparted tons of information on the home, the couple, the architecture and Santa Monica geography. It was a fascinating tour, replete with photos, original architecture, even original tiles. Next door, at the Annenberg Beach House is the original pool, also with original tiling. I love being able to stumble onto Hollywood history.

Reading Backwards

I just finished an amazing book - Spalding Gray's journals, published by Knopf. It is a must-read for anyone who ever loved Gray's monologues or had the privilige of seeing them (I think I saw him 4 times). I've never done this before, but I started this book toward the end because I couldn't quite remember the circumstances behind Gray's death and I wanted to refresh my memory. There had been a terrible car accident on a trip to Ireland in which he incurred a severe brain injury, propelling his already frail mental health into further despair.

I next moved to the middle of the book, starting when he booked the role in the movie "The Killing Fields", the experience which inspired his monologue, "Swimming to Cambodia." He is so alive in these sections. Totally neurotic, but so immersed in living a creative life.

I then finished the book at the beginning, which chronicles his post-college days (Coincidentally, he went to my college, Emerson College). This part is where he learns of his mother's suicide.

It was very interesting reading this backwards. I felt like a psychologist, piecing together the layers that made up this complex human being. It was also compelling to watch the themes of his life emerge. Water and water imagery played such an important role in his life - from the title of his monologue ("Swimming to Cambodia") to his childhood on the Rhode Island coast, to his ultimate death by drowning.

I was so taken by this book that it has inspired me to pitch a new course at the art college where I teach - something like, "In Their Own Words - Artists Write About Living a Creative Life." It might be awkward discussing all of Gray's sexploits, but oh well...

Speaking of reading backwards, with the new year fast approaching I am looking back at '11 - what a busy, expansive, intense, abundant year it has been. I am grateful for so much and look forward to welcoming in '12. When the clock strikes midnight I will probably be in downward dog, my new New Year's Eve yoga ritual. I hope that you, too, find yourself in an interesting position, whatever that may be, and I look forward to connecting with you in the new year!