Friday, September 30, 2016

Sixtynothing



SETTING-A BUSTLING SILVER LAKE CAFE. THE MENU IS WRITTEN DECORATIVELY IN CHALK. LOCAL ARTISINAL PRODUCTS, JAMS, MACARONS AND CANDY ARE DISPLAYED ON THE COUNTER.

INVISIBLE AND HAG HUDDLE AT A SMALL TABLE. AT THE NEXT TABLE, A WOMAN BREAST FEEDS AN INFANT WHILE HER PARTNER STRUGGLES TO CONTAIN AN AGITATED JACK RUSSELL TERRIER. ON THE OTHER SIDE, A TATTOOED TWENTY SOMETHING WITH A MAN-BUN CONSPICUOUSLY READS FROM A COLLECTION OF WILLIAM GIBSON ESSAYS. IN THE CORNER TWO WOMEN IN YOGA GEAR CHAT INTIMATELY, IGNORING THEIR RESPECTIVE TODDLERS,WHO SING “DO YOU WANT TO BUILD A SNOWMAN?” FROM DISNEY'S FROZEN AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS.

INVISIBLE
Did you see that they're selling those jars of jam for twelve bucks?
They're the size of a friggin' thimble.

HAG
Maybe they're cold brewed or have fennel pollen or emu testicles or something.
INVISIBLE
I started season three of Transparent. Someone who I vaguely respect said it's better than the first two seasons but even if it were, damned by faint praise.

HAG
Does Gabby Hoffman show her bush?

INVISIBLE
Not yet but I'm only through four episodes. I'm sure it's inevitable.

HAG
I do like the rabbi. What's her name?

INVISIBLE
Yeah, it's the one from the Affair, right?

HAG

No...she's in another one of those L.A. hipster shows. It's uh...uh...

INVISIBLE
Happyish?

HAG
Yeah right. But that's the New York one. They're older and on anti-depressants and don't have as much sex.  The one that Gandolfini was supposed to do before he died instead. That British guy did it. What's his name?

INVISIBLE
Ricky Gervais?
HAG
No, he's the one that made those features about driving through France and eating everywhere.

INVISIBLE
Oh yeah, him. But isn't it Italy? Do you think they're ever going to take our order?

THE SERVER SPORTS A GIGANTIC BEARD AND A FRILLY VINTAGE APRON. HE BRINGS A BOWL OF WATER AND A BISCUIT TO THE JACK RUSSELL TERRIER AND THEN GRABS TWO COOKIES FROM THE COUNTER AND PRESENTS THEM TO THE PRE-SCHOOLERS.

HAG (trying to make eye contact with the server)
Ahem...
(to Invisible)
I'm really starving. I just had only a yogurt before pilates.

A SKINNY BLONDE ENTERS.

INVISIBLE (emphatically, under her breath)
Look at me!
HAG
What?

INVISIBLE
It's that woman from preschool who had labor induced on January first 2000 so she could have the first baby of the millennium. What's her name?

HAG
I can't remember her name but I don't think it's her. She was way more plus sized.

INVISIBLE
No, it's her. Don't let her see us! I heard she's doing Crossfit. It's like a fucking cult. I don't want her to come over here and start proselytizing to us.
HAG
Roger. But no matter what I'm not getting up 5 a.m. for an hour of exercise torture followed by four blocks of protein and one block of carbs. Don't make eye contact!

HAG PULLS OUT HER CHAIR TO PREVENT THE SERVER FROM PASSING.

HAG
We're ready to order.

SERVER
Oh, yeah. I'll be right with you guys.

THE SERVER GRABS PLATES FROM THE KITCHEN, SERVES THE NURSING BABY/JACK RUSSELL COUPLE AND STANDS CHATTING WITH THEM.

HAG (using an outside voice)
We're ready to order!
THE SERVER ROLLS HIS EYES AND SAUNTERS OVER TO HAG AND INVISIBLE.

SERVER
Can I start you with some beverages? Everyone says that the loroco iced tea is yummy.

INVISIBLE
We'll order our meals. I want the turkey avocado sandwich on seven grain bread.

HAG
I want the Little Gem Cobb salad with no bacon and the dressing on the side.

SERVER
Great. It'll be right up.

A YOUNG WOMAN ENTERS AND THERE IS A SOFT BUZZ AMONG THE CUSTOMERS AND STAFF. EVERYONE IS LOOKING AT HER AND TRYING TO MAKE IT LOOK LIKE THEY'RE NOT LOOKING AT HER.  

HAG
Who is that?

INVISIBLE
Oh. It's her. She's the lead in one of the Silver Lake sex comedies.

HAG
Is she the one in Casual?

INVISIBLE
No. It's another one with an English guy. She's good. Her name is...uh....uh.

HAG
Oh yeah. I know that show. They live in a house that they couldn't possibly afford.

INVISIBLE
They always live in houses that they couldn't afford. Wear clothes they couldn't afford. Eat in restaurants they couldn't afford. Have more sex than is humanly possible.

HAG (whispering)
Aya Cash.

INVISIBLE
I don't think I do. I'm going to use a card.

HAG
No. The actress. Aya Cash.

INVISIBLE
What? I wish those kids would shut the fuck up. I never let my kids fucking sing in a restaurant.

HAG
The actress. Her name is Aya Cash.

INVISIBLE
Who?

HAG (in stage whisper)
AYA CASH!

THE CHILDREN STOP SINGING. EVERYONE IN THE RESTAURANT GLARES DISAPPROVINGLY AT HAG. AYA CASH SHRUGS AND SMILES SHEEPISHLY.

INVISIBLE
I am so friggin' hungry.

INVISIBLE RISES, WALKS TO COUNTER, PICKS UP AND EXAMINES JAM JAR AND RETURNS TO THE TABLE.

INVISIBLE
Twelve bucks for four ounces of jam made in Eagle Rock by Hildegard. Contains organic fruit. Sugar. Pectin. Period! Twelve bucks!

HAG
And you know they buy the organic fruit that's already rotting so they get it cheap.

THE SERVER LACONICALLY PLACES PLATES OF FOOD IN FRONT OF HAG AND INVISIBLE.

SERVER

Here you guys go. Turkey Avo on gluten free bread and a Little Gem Cobb.

INVISIBLE
I said 7 Grain bread. Not gluten free. Ick.

HAG
And this is drenched in dressing and covered with bacon. I said no bacon and dressing on the side.

THE SERVER ANNOYED, SHRUGS AND THEN REMOVES THE PLATES.

HAG
Shit. Was that so friggin' hard?

INVISIBLE
I am really really hungry.

HAG
I have a box of Altoids.

INVISIBLE LAUGHS AND THEN RECONSIDERS.

INVISIBLE
Gimme.

HAG TAKES THE ALTOIDS OUT OF HER PURSE, HANDS THEM TO INVISIBLE WHO STARTS TO MUNCH ON THEM. THE SERVER AND THE CASHIER STAND AT AYA CASH'S TABLE CHATTING WITH HER.

HAG
Do you just want to go to the salad bar at the Mayfair?

INVISIBLE
It's been Gelson's for about twenty years. Do you still call Trader Joe's “The Hub?”

HAG
Whatever.

CUT TO

HAG AND INVISIBLE ARE PUTTING ITEMS FROM SALAD BAR INTO PLASTIC BOXES.

CUT TO

HAG AND INVISIBLE ARE SITTING AT A TABLE AT GELSON'S. OTHER DINERS ARE OLDER WOMEN AND MARKET EMPLOYEES. THEY PICK AT THEIR SALADS WITH PLASTIC FORKS.

HAG
That Philip Roth thing about the Jewish kid at a waspy college is on Netflix.

INVISIBLE

Oh, I read about that. What's it called? Indiscretion? Insurrection? Indivisible?

HAG

Yeah. Something like that. It's good. That Stacy Lutts is in it. He's terrific.

INVISIBLE

Christ. It's almost three. I've gotta scram or I'll get caught in Ivanhoe traffic. Do you wanna walk on Saturday?

HAG
Yeah. Sure. If it's not too hot. I wish they'd put the water back in the reservoir. It's so damn depressing.


CUT TO SILVER LAKE CAFE.
SERVER AND CASHIER ARE SITTING AT TABLE WITH AYA CASH AND EATING A LITTLE GEM COBB AND TURKEY AVOCADO SANDWICH.

CUT TO HAG STUCK IN TRAFFIC IN FRONT OF THE IVANHOE SCHOOL. SHE TAKES A VAPE PEN FROM THE GLOVE BOX, REMOVES A CARTRIDGE FROM A BAG STAMPED “GREEN HEALTH COLLECTIVE,” INSERTS IT AND TAKES A LONG DRAG. HER PHONE RINGS THROUGH THE CAR SPEAKER, FLASHING “INVISIBLE.”

HAG
What?

INVISIBLE (THROUGH PHONE)

Ok. The rabbi in Transparent is Kathryn Hahn. She was also in Happyish. The British comedian in that is Steve Coogan and the eating in Italy movies were The Trip and The Trip to Italy. The actress in Casual is Michaela Watkins. She was also in Enlightenment which never should have been canceled. The Affair is Ruth Wilson and Maura Tierney. They both have mouths like ducks. The Aya Cash Silver Lake show is “You're the Worst,” and they film a lot at the Brite Spot which is why it's closed so much. The Philip Roth film is Indignation and the actor who's so good is not Stacy Lutts, it's Tracy Letts.

HAG
Holy shit. You must have had a big brain cell resurgence on the way home from the Mayfair.

INVISIBLE
Nah. IMDB. Oh, and Millennium Baby Crossfit is Estelle MacIntyre.

HAG
That was on IMDB?

INVISIBLE
No, I did a bake sale with her at Franklin. She's still on my phone. Bitch brought cookies from Costco.

FADE OUT

Saturday, September 24, 2016

Because I Said So!


Maybe the hardest part of the nightmare that is the 2016 Presidential Election is Himself's dogged determination to be unfazed by it. He will toss and turn all night, anxious about incurring a 25¢ library fine but even when I cite the most outrageous of Trump's outrageousness it is impossible to get a rise out of him. My husband is beyond cynical about the state of the union and has faith only in the inevitable erosion of democracy. Which won't matter anyway, as far as he's concerned, because global warming or the hole in the ozone will obliterate the planet first.

I am card carrying advocate of free speech but also believe that no one should feel marginalized so I often straddle the political correctness line. Himself however is vehemently opposed to any sort of exceptionalism, believing that all accomplishments and failures are the result of personal accomplishment. And as a genuine misanthrope, he believes that there are generally more occasions of failure than of accomplishment.

I try to keep my mouth shut at home as much as possible but this election is making me insane. I check poll numbers at Real Clear Politics and Nate Silver dozens of times a day. As I write this, Hillary is back on top on most of the polls. When Trump does show a lead it is typically in polls that rely only on landlines which don't really present a true demographic picture. Nevertheless, for several days this week when Trump is beating Hillary, I nearly open a vein. I am still not entirely certain that Hillary will win, but I strongly suspect that she will. What bothers me enormously is that it is shaping up to be a close race. My cup of American patriotism doesn't overfloweth but I do believe that the U.S. is among the most progressive nations in many ways. I am invested in feeling proud of my country and even if Hillary decisively trounces Trump I think many of us will remain in shell shock.

Colin Powell's leaked email notes that, “everything Clinton touches she kind of screws up with hubris.” I'm sure I'm not the only one to wince upon hearing the “basket of deplorables,” comment. While I think that the basket metaphor is kind of quirky and imaginative, this demonstration of insensitivity merits a collective slap on the wrist for all liberals. Flies with honey. We should make nice to Trump supporters. We try to learn their language and reel them in using words they'll understand. While she shouldn't have said it, the “deplorables” comment isn't far off the mark. Just replace “deplorable” with “dumb as fucking dirt.” These are people who still don't believe in global warning, Obama's provenance and that being LGBT isn't a choice. The conservative movement doesn't have hegemony on crackpot ideas. Liberals rail about GMOs and vaccines, despite scientific evidence that both do the planet far more good than harm. I exempt anyone with an IQ below 85 but there is no excuse for people in the normal range of intelligence to be buying into such malarkey.

This is not the “new stupid” bristling against big-word spouting college types. Joe McCarthy ranted about “pin-headed intellectuals,” and remember Spiro Agnew on “effete intellectual snobs.” In the 19th Century Schopenhauer posited, “ All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.” The miracle of the Internet has changed the rules, ironic that this technological miracle has spawned a resurgence of medieval ideation. Now, truth is ridiculed, then violently opposed and finally rejected in favor of something unproven that, for whatever reason, is more palatable or convenient. “I believe,” is synonymous now with “This is a proven fact.”


Even if Trump receives only a small percentage of the vote, his ascendancy says some very sad things about the state of the nation. The election of the first African American president threatens a whole lot of white guys and Trump seizes on this anxiety by suggesting that in truth our president is a Kenya- born Muslim. And as luck would have it for the Donald, the same demographic that experiences feelings of impotence when Obama's elected, is even more threatened by the prospect of a female president than a black one.

There are many examples of men feeling that their masculinity is questioned in some way, while, for the most part, women seem generally more secure about their gender. There really are no feminine counterparts really for “emasculated” or “man up.” Most of the pejoratives used to diminish a man imply feminine qualities. You are a pussy if you behave in a manner that can be construed as feminine or pussy whipped if a woman assumes a superior position. And Trump, with his long history of piggish-ness is an effective balm for insecure maleness. I suspect that if the Democratic nominee were a white male he'd likely be running against Jeb Bush and that Benghazi, e-mail servers and charitable foundations wouldn't be much on the radar.

Inevitably I'll be biting my nails until November 8. I hope ultimately that I will be proud that the first African American and first female presidents were elected in my lifetime. Still, there is the huge swath of dogged ignorance to contend with. Trump, even as a failed candidate may have done irreparable damage. His lies are so profuse that it's hard for the news media to fact check consistently without being accused of bias. Have the floodgates opened now for pathologically lying politicians? I know I'm preaching to the choir here and that while this piece may result in a bit more hand wringing, but is unlikely to raise anyone's consciousness. Himself refuses to vote for any candidate that he considers a mere lesser of evils so I presume his choice will be “none of the above.” Fortunately this isn't particularly meaningful in California but if we lived in a swing state it would likely result in divorce.
I'd get the dog. And I'm with Her. 

Friday, September 16, 2016

Stuck Between Stations



As I wind up my 6th decade and my physical and mental decrepitude ratchets up exponentially. I realize more and more how it was for my folks and their frustration at feeling that the times had passed them by. I regarded their physical aches and pains and technology aversion with impatience. A future that I will have no part of portends and I guess that my acceptance of this has inspired me to further explore my parents' time via a couple of documentaries.

The first is one about Leopold and Loeb. I have always been fascinated by crime and punishment. Perhaps the germ of this is my father's recounting in detail to me (at far too young an age) the cases of the Lindbergh baby, Sacco and Vanzetti and the two privileged young Jewish prodigies, united by a fascination with Nietzsche, who plotted what they intended to be “the perfect crime.” This case was of particular interest to my father as the perpetrators were Jewish. My father was never religious but he experienced discrimination nevertheless and took a special interest in the trials and triumphs of our people. The documentary doesn't much augment Dad's meticulous recounting except for an examination of Clarence Darrow's defense strategy. Leopold and Loeb was Darrow's last case before retirement and his final argument to the jury took over twelve hours. For the first time in the history of American jurisprudence Darrow argued for mercy because the murderers suffered from psychological trauma. I imagine that there was no expectation of exoneration but the killers were spared the death penalty, Loeb was murdered in prison. Leopold was released from in 1958, moved to Puerto Rico, married and worked as a medical technician until his death in 1971.

My mom was fascinated with wealth and society, and like my dad, always proud when Jews hit the stratosphere. Mom noted that Wallis Simpson's second husband Ernest Simpson was Jewish. Even though Ernest was jilted by Wallis, Mom kvelled at this single degree of separation from the King of England. A documentary however reveals some recently discovered letters that were written by Wallis Simpson. In a nutshell, Wallis was simply playing around in London society while her husband was in the U.S. on business. When Edward professed his love for her and eagerness to abdicate the throne she was caught off guard and felt trapped. She proceeded to divorce Ernest. The trove of letters reveals that she considered Edward a boring simp and that Ernest was indeed the love of her life. Even better for the Jews! Mom would have been elated.

While my parents were titillated by crime and scandal, more than anything, their consciousnesses were shaped by The Depression and World War II. My sister was born in 1943 and issued a ration book. My father, due to a stammer, was unfit for service but worked a swing shift on an assembly line at Lockheed that operated 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Just about every day the cavernous factory would reverberate as a test plane crashed and exploded on the adjacent field. Despite the loss of life, the workers, weeping, continued to churn out P-80 Shooting Stars.

I am half way through Ken Burns' seven part series, The War. I've been exposed, running a film archive, to more WWII footage than many but this extended narrative, enriched by some extraordinary oral histories from soldiers and their families is profoundly engaging, albeit painful to watch. While Burns work is sometimes more than a little florid, I am awed to witness the genesis of what so profoundly scarred my parents and the parents of my contemporaries.

Burns recounts examples of rampant and cruel bigotry but despite this, patriotism prevailed. Young Japanese-American men volunteered and served while their families were interred in spartan, isolated camps. Black soldiers served loyally, despite ridicule and segregated units. Mexican and Native Americans overlooked their marginalization and fought bravely and died on the battlefield. On the home front the war informed just about every facet of existence. Despite deep pockets of hatred and ignorance, the U.S. was one nation, united in a single purpose. Times are such that, despite the atrocious footage that never gets easier to watch, I can't help but wish for a less polarized America. It is an affront to the nation's sacrifice; bloodshed, Gold Star Mothers, Victory Gardens, rationing...that 2016 finds us having learned so little.

World War Two played more significantly than any other force in the shaping of my parents' generation. When my own children find their times difficult to bear and retreat to an exploration of what shaped my era, the result will likely be more nuanced. The JFK and subsequent assassinations certainly served to harden us and sap us of the romantic patriotism engendered by the Second World War. The moon landing showed us what we're capable of. We watched the Vietnam War play out on tv as we ate our dinner every night. Treacly sit-coms with lily white casts showed us what our families were lacking. There's nothing as large and long as a justifiable world war to bring us together.

It is staggering to look at the 2nd World War by the numbers. 2 million military trucks. 4000 warships. 300,000 American soldiers killed. 72 million deaths worldwide. Air carriers that required the assembly of over a million parts. Stretchers. Body bags. Provisions. Telegrams to apprise families of their dead children. It is amazing to think that this was all accomplished with pens, pencils, typewriters, telegraph, adding machines and an ocean of carbon paper. Military logistics are not my forte but after imagining World War Two it is chilling to think that the war machine has evolved along with other facets of our lives. I imagine how much better and efficiently we can do war. How strange that sophisticated technological advances coexist in a world that seems to grow more base and primitive with every passing day.

Perhaps for Baby Boomers the advent of technology most defines our time on earth. I get my lunch or a ride home from the bar with a single swipe on my phone. I communicate with millions of people all over the world in an instant. A stupid rumor goes viral in a nanosecond. There are cameras everywhere and e-mail hackers. The only private place is in your head but sometimes targeted advertising is so frighteningly dead-on I doubt if even that's the case.

What will be the benchmarks that inform my children's lives? Driving down Figueroa, in front of the House of Pancakes we learn about the World Trade Center. Since there have been so many terrorist attacks and mass shootings that they don't even register as formative events. My kids are used to technology evolving at a breakneck pace, as they've never known anything else. They glom onto the efficiency and creativity technological advances facilitate but while I remain in constant awe, this is what they expect. Unfortunately they have never had much to rally their patriotism and terrorism for them is just as inevitable as death, taxes or a new model I phone. How will my grandchildren reflect upon their own parent's legacy? I don't have much imagination for this. It is too daunting to think about the future. My dad would hold my kids on his lap and tell them about seeing an airplane for the first time. He'd stroke their heads and sigh, “I wonder what they'll see.” My boys are men. My own mind and body decline a bit with every passing year. Hope, however, stays on the upswing.


Friday, September 9, 2016

Trajectory of Aspirations




Body
1980s 1990s 2000s 2010s
size 8 size 10 size 14 fasten airplane seat-belt without extender


Relationship

1980s 1990s 2000s 2010s
get boyfriend get him to marry me get him to talk to me get him to talk to me only during commercials


Cooking

1980s 1990s 2000s 2010s
get boyfriend restaurant and cookbook empire food blog raw chicken may have dripped on salad. hope no one gets sick.


Writing

1980s 1990s 2000s 2010s
sell a screenplay sell a novel sell a memoir 20 Facebook likes on weekly blog post


Recognition

1980s 1990s 2000s 2010s
screenwriting Oscar MacArthur Genius Award Pen Center Emerging Writer $20 in Oscar pool

Husband

1980s 1990s 2000s 2010s
PLEASE!

tenure position at Ivy League with all male graduate assistants replace Michiko Kakutani as editor of New York Times book review

get me free vegetable spiralizer in exchange for Amazon Review


Children
1980s 1990s 2000s 2010s
nope potty train #1 first Jewish president, #2 discovers cancer cure pay for own cell phones.
impregnate no one

Travel

1980s 1990s 2000s 2010s
anywhere as long as with boyfriend Day of the Dead, Oaxaca college tours resulting in immediate acceptance and full scholarships Groupon for Laughlin (buffet included)


Binging

1980s 1990s 2000s 2010s
revival movie houses,
food
sex
food
Ebay
food
Netflix
food


Found money


1980s 1990s 2000s 2010s
sports car sleep-away camp tummy tuck dental implant

Saturday, September 3, 2016

These United Hates


  My addiction to CNN continues and I sort of get off on being appalled. The hitch now is that our Korean exchange student Ji Woo is around and suddenly Trumpmania is a colossal embarrassment. “Yes Ji Woo, your mom and dad are paying big bucks for you to be educated in a country where a sociopathic demagogue is a serious contender for the highest office in the land.” 

The complications of what's plaguing white non-college educated men in this country are just that. Complicated. White guys have been exploited by big business. Screwed when the mortgage industry melted down. Let down by unions. Failed by an educational system lacking vision. It is easier to ascribe blanket blame on people who are different. I didn't really expect to live in a time when gay people were free to marry. I also didn't expect to live in an era fraught with bellicose racism and misogyny. 

I remain lukewarm yet avid about Hillary Clinton's candidacy. She takes credit for Bill's Oval Office accomplishments and this has always seemed weird to me. I come across an old Vanity Fair profile of Hillary by Gail Sheehey. This was written during Clinton's first run for the presidency. After Hillary's ruffled some feathers as first lady of Arkansas, Bill is asked to speculate about Hillary's White House role and he quips, “You're getting two for the price of one.” Sheehey's in depth piece sheds a lot of light on the Clinton's operandi and Hillary's leverage during Bill's eight years at the White House, for better and worse. I am cutting my own piece short as you should be reading this 1992 essay instead: http://www.vanityfair.com/news/1992/05/hillary-clinton-first-lady-presidency

(Honestly, laziness is not a factor in the brevity of this week's work.) In support of the “get tough on crime” bill, Hillary uses the phrase “super predator.” A number of the measures in this bill, I believe, have set the African American community back a full generation. The decimation of the economic safety net, and drug policies that lead to mass incarceration, create an enormous obstacle to rising above the cycle of poverty. Some consider both of these measures to be an attempt to draw back white conservatives into the Democratic fold after the obliterating Reagan years. In fairness to Clinton, he did veto two even more toothsome welfare reform bills and was strong armed into signing off in 1996 by Newt Gingrich. Still, the African-American community's embrace of Clinton, even before Trump became a genuine threat, continues to baffle. 

 I am banking that Hillary will be our next president. But, if the Senate and House remain under Republican control she'll be as hobbled as Obama. (An aside is that all of the problems with Obamacare are the result of Obama's unavoidable compromise to involve the insurance companies, rather than enact a single payer plan.)  If faced with a less obstreperous congress than Obama, I wonder which way the wind will blow with Hillary and how indebted she is to Wall Street and big business. She made a lot of concessions to the Sanders camp and the platform at least is the most liberal in decades but seldom does a party platform get played out in reality. 

 Even if Ji Woo had been downstairs working on an English essay, this weeks' speech about immigration went beyond the pale. With Trump's hateful speech and the crowd howling of “Build the Wall,” I crossed from smug and superior to frightened. Even if Hillary wins with 60% of the vote, what does that say about the other 40% of our voters?