Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Indelible.

Breakfast At Tiffany's was on TCM one summer circa my eighth year bossing about these streets. Granted I was not nearly as perceptive to silver screen allegory as I am now.

I waited for Golightly to finally brunch with her bishesInside.

Was I the only one who assumed there was a chic clandestine eatery within the Fifth Ave staple?

Oh. You were all reared in Manhattan high society. 
Of course. 

Instead Holly munched a chocolatine and returned home to dream big with Cat. Her cat didn't have a name. Holly was a postmodern blithellectual. So she called it cat.
Cat was its name.

Art. film. books. academia. Pugs being blocked by classical conditioning hatahs. 


None of it leaves me.

I mourn after completing a captivating novel. I mourned when I published this. I mourned the cancellation of EastwickCashmere MafiaGIRLFRIENDS.

Conspicuity of the title be damned, Atonement caught me unawares. I sat shivah for the hair styles Briony never had.
She. rocked. the same Bob. f o r e v e r !
Haven't been right since.

Eight was a big year for me.
It was the year unadulterated cable was placed in my room. Don't side eye my parents. They didn't place a box in there. I had cousins who knew thangs and spliced cable lines and... No judgments. It's not like I had a personal line for my Clueless phone. I had this.

Spent my days collecting coin Literally. That US Mint swindle suckered me into buying a map for my limited edition state quarters. and watching hours on end of Doug and All That and the blogger before blogging Clarissa who Explained It All. Respect.
Nickelodeon heard our Twitter cries and brought back cool.

HBO used to place the documentary Hookers at the Point on heavy rotation then. I sympathized with the plight of the Classy Lady Divas when I wasn't pettily destroying the layout to Mall Madness mid-game because my sister beat me to Sunglasses Boutique. I was such a brat. Blame consumerism.

BBM Chat.
Evon: *Something specious regarding my love life.*
Me: *Avowing claims with swag dipped in sauce.*
Me: So poo pah to ya.
Evon: (_|_). Kiss it.
Tiffani: She told you!
Tiffani: What's "poo pah" though? Lol.
Me: As you know Hookers at the Point is one of my favorite documentaries. A gritty portrayal of real and sustain and circumstance. A classic.
Evon: Deep.
Me: Anyway one of dem hoes [sic] always said that. "Shut the f-ck up you poo pah b-tch!"
Evon: Classy.
Me: I dunno what it means. But I like it.
Tiffani: I. Can. Not. Hookers at the Point really made a difference in your life. You should blog that.

Yep.

2 comments:

Arniece said...

You should definitely do a Philadelphia version of "Hookers at the Point" It would be great! I would support and tag along. Let me know!

J♥mes. said...

I'm saying! I would need a film crew. Maybe use some of my dad's unused stuff. haha.