Harlow the Harlot in Miami.

Red Dust (1932), a classic Pre-Code starring Jean Harlow, Clark Gable and Mary Astor in a L-U-V triangle will be shown on Turner Classic Movies at 8:15 AM on November 17th. A must see!

In other news, Ryan and I spent a few days in Miami/Miami Beach last week and it was a much needed break, though much more than a few days there is unnecessary unless you somehow win the lottery or a multimillionaire decides he likes your style and wants to foot the bill for the remainder of your life. I spent a painful 30 minutes in a teeny little store, Base Annex, dying to buy every single item of clothing they had, but finally discovering this gorgeous linen-covered Five Year Diary that was cheap enough for po' lil ol' me. The beautiful gay men running the establishment really thought I was going to drop money or maybe they were just being nice, because they were trying to sell me these $800 Comme Des Garcons t-shirts.

I did find a great small shop called Arrive on 16th near Collins that sold both mens and women's clothing (lots of wonderful wool car coats...in MIAMI???) and I found a stunning cotton Vivienne Westwood skirt that is totally evocative of her Pirates collection on sale. I almost cried; finally, I own Vivienne. I also bought a very Edie smoky grey cotton tee with very high side slits...it was only $30 on sale. Great store.

The food there was excellent for the most part, except our unbelievably crappy breakfast at the horribly overrated News Cafe on Ocean Drive, known as the last spot Gianni Versace interacted with someone not with an intent to murder him to become famous. I think our server wanted to murder us and not be known for anything but a hateful little bitch murderer of two paupers. Ocean has become pretty tawdry in some ways; Collins is the more interesting street at this point. The single most annoying thing about South Beach is the hostess with the over sized menu, seated on a tall stool and jumping into your path, shoving said menu in your face and saying, "Would you like to take a look at our wonderful dinner menu?????" It is horrific that restaurateurs believe this to be indicative of hospitality. It is assault.

We missed eating at Tap Tap as it was closed, but Grillfish was good, casual and had excellent service. Tapas y Tintos on Espanola Way was a beautiful little spot and most of their tapas were fantastic, except the final one, something to do with "Devil Shrimp". They should have called it "Something Remotely Like Shrimp Drowned in Parsley Sauce." It was disgusting. Ryan got all Bourdain on me and called it "a failure." The service sucked. We won't need to ever go there again.

In Miami proper, Catch of the Day on Le Jeune is A MUST. Super fresh seafood done extremely well; Cuban owned and operated with fantastic Cafe con Leche and wonderful, though youthful, service. We had a stone crab cocktail and deep-fried red snapper, served "smiling at you", i.e. HEAD ON!

Thanks to Ann-Eliza and Brian for reccommending The Catalina Hotel and Beach Club on Collins Ave., just past the Delano. Great rates, cool rooms and a wonderful pool. Not to mention free drinks for guests at Happy Hour.

Going Home.

Well, its done been decided. Instead of running off to yet another hip, happening locale with the hopes that it will provide us with utter happiness via constantly replenished consumer cornucopias, Ryan and I decided late last night that Memphis, TN--place of my birth, youth and grad school years--will be our next home come Summer 2008 (quite possibly the worst time to try to wrangle friends into helping you unload a Uhaul in that city).
Flawda just hasn't been "it" for us. I feel sad in admitting it as we have only been here 9 months, but it has just felt bizarre to me and well, painful for Ryan. I am glad to have met the great people we have met and to have had the beach 15 minutes from my home, but the other things just aren't catching our fancy.
Memphis has its own issues, but I don't feel like getting into it now as Ryan says I am being too contrarian and warning too much about the bad and not enjoying what is going to be really great about living there again. So, if anyone is reading this, remind me to stay nice and keep my head about me...and go to the beach as much as possible in the next 8 months!

My New Bag. A Dream Come True.

Today I think I received my dream handbag. It is a "Junco" by Ashley Watson, an enterprising, green-sensible young woman residing in one of the most wonderful cities in our hemisphere, Vancouver Canada. She makes remarkable handbags from old leather jackets. At first, I was skeptical of what the quality would be. I thought, "OK, they'll be ironic and goofy" or "They'll be poorly constructed and reeking of amateur seamstress." Neither of my cynical assumptions were correct now that I took possession of my fabulous, small (it is actually rather large at approx 16"wide and 12" tall) JUNCO tote in a forrest green leather. Ashley is an artist, a sculpto-seamstress. One would never suspect this jacket once likely warmed some high-class Canadian prostitute circa 1990 or a wealthy teen of the same era with a penchant for shocking her parents with her scary taste in color and leather. Yes, the leather is super soft, super strong kid and Ashley took full advantage of the diagonal, topstiched front pockets of the jacket, which are now the diagonal, topstiched front pockets of my handbag. And did I mention, it is RECYCLED? Go get yours (no two are exactly alike) or another design more to your taste at www.beklina.com.

Denwave Saves Lives.

Put together a lil $$$$ for some new Fall threads and while browsing the damn internets, checked out Hazel and Genevieve's goings-on (yeah, OK, I miss PDX) and noticed several new items that had to be owned. For starters, the above handmade cotton yarn and brass necklace by the inimitable Hazel Cox. $68 please. Hazel also had a killer $28 copper and cotton yarn necklace I had to have; I mean, IT'S $28! Then, of course, there is Genevieve Dillinger to be be reckoned with. I bought a flowing, light grey rayon tunic/tee ($68) and was easily talked into a gorgeous linen dress; best I can describe the major signature of the fabric is "bed ticking". It is just like everything from Genevieve: Simple, elegant and completely chic.

OH MY.

Bad, bad lady! I have taken quite the extended blogging vacances, so now I am back with that odd Guilt Post formerly known as the Guilt Entry when I used to actually use a device with ink to scribe my boring goings on.

Ryan and I hit a serious wall with St. Pete/Tampa. Bottom line, we bored of it here. I love the beach, the tennis courts, the skies, the big rain and whatever, but what was happening in this area when I was last here (early 2000's) has been replaced by a glossy, suburban ideal. Independent "funky" business were displaced in the hopes of making big condo dollars; this never happened in certain areas so an entire block sits abandoned. The new businesses may be owned by locals but many smack of a chain; almost like they hope and strive to one day be a chain. I can't get into this. And what the fuck happened to the screens that would show the indie/foreign/unusual films? None are around. I love the people I have met so far, but I am not quite sure if it is all enough to make it worth sticking it out for the long haul.

Sad but true. We'll see what happens. We are here for another year anyway and hell if I am not going to enjoy it to the fullest.

Martha Quinn Returns.

When I was in 9th grade, following the top row of braces being removed from my teeth, following the back part of my brown, golden-flecked hair growing out into a nice wavy rug creating a gorgeous mullet before there was such a thing, before I was unceremoniously deflowered as my boyfriend's father watched a John Wayne movie in the next room as I worried every time the headboard banged against the wall, before I dated men who were uncircumcised and caught hell from other boys about this (Why? I still don't know. Uncircumcised penises can still reach orgasm)...I resembled a spritely, adorable original MTV VJ, Martha Quinn.

For the first time ever in West Memphis, Arkansas, I had a cool cultural touchstone. I took on cachet and had acceptance from cute, sexy boys who had heretofore ignored me and girls who pinched my cheeks in crude disbelief when I swore I wasn't wearing any makeup. "Yew look jes lak MARTHA QUINN!" "Yew oughta be ah VJ!!!!" Ah, popularity.
Martha returns. Saturday night August 25th.

Theresa Duncan and Jeremy Blake

Image from Zero Zero, CD-ROM by Theresa Duncan and Jeremy Blake.

Read THIS

Really sad but really fascinating too. I have read her blog also, The Wit of the Staircase.

She so much reminds me of my friend P. (and so many brilliant female clients I have had over the last 10+ years with Bipolar Disorder)--that special girl who also will eat you up with that same brilliance. You want it so badly, but you also realize that being inside of it eats up whomever you are. Maybe I am overstepping here, but I can imagine that is how Jeremy Blake may have felt after she was gone--once you agree to be usurped by these people, even though the usurping is L-U-V, you give up yourself. To him, what else was he to do with her gone? Who really knows how much of himself was wrapped into her?

My biggest disgust in looking into the internets following this sad story are the multitudes of people enamored with Theresa and Jeremy (rather, their image) who seem desperate to believe in conspiracy theories over what seems more than apparent to me as a mental health therapist, as well as a fucking HUMAN, that these two were mentally ill and wrapped up resolutely in their illness, with only each other reinforcing their most desperate delusions. The ridiculous propensity of these message board/blogosphere twits wanting to want to believe that the CIA gives a shit about two gorgeous, creative, intelligent, but not-threatening-to- anyone-but-themselves young people, to the extent of ignoring what is obvious (Ah HEM. They were very paranoid and deluded)...well, it doesn't surprise me that the mental health system is forced socially to operate in a shadow world. It is just a much less glamourous and compelling shadow world than the CIA and Cointelpro for hipsters and glamour pusses to acknowledge.

Sorry T & J--you guys were sick and frightened and often, no one can help out with all that. R.I.P.