Liane Langford's

HERES MUDD IN YOUR EYE

2012-01-03T19:20:00.000-08:00

You could hear the blood curdling screams coming from my living room, as I looked up from my make-up mirror. I looked down again only to find it was true, there must be a mistake as I looked again!!!!. My cheekbones had indeed fallen into my eyes! MY EYES!!!!! laughing as they mocked my illusion of youth.

NO NO! how could this be???... all those years!, facials!, ballet!, modeling!, the centerfolds!!! my Aunt forbidding me to use soap NO NO all for not!!!.

It was bad enough that I had discovered that my elbows could be shaped into Labias!! .....you heard me.

Natures cruel joke, while we females use creams to fluff up our genitals we are growing them on our elbows!.

When I first discovered this, I called my mentor, I told her I was going to get an elbow lift...she was silent....

then calmly said, she was pretty sure I would have trouble using my arms...I laughed hysterically, ya know in a sort of shrill way, as though I had been wearing a straight jacket, " FINE! then I will just botox them!" or " inject fat!" "my elbows are hand puppets!!!!" "and did you know Madonna got a new Butt?" "I want one!!!!" ...... Niki was calm as she listened to my demands.

I began to think about wearing long gloves, would they be in vogue? and would they be noticed when, say wearing a bikini?

Things escalated when my girlfriend came over, PERFECT! " look at my face" "there", "see?" "see that?", she looked at me sideways and said "what?" frustrated , I bent over and looked into the mirror for her , "THAT THAT!" "No Liane , what the hell are you talking about?"she obviously missed it, I had to go one step further, so I had her put her face under mine "LOOK THERE! isn't it horrible?" she laughed...but let me tell you, cheeks falling into your eye sockets is no laughing matter!.

I thought of something even more terrifying, this would forever dictate sex ...I mean, looking down? ...do I need to say this out loud? and yoga!! no more mountain pose!!! push ups....Twister!!!

This oddly brings me to Star Trek and "Mudds Women" you know those simply gorgeous women? flawless, but then again they used the same filter on Captain Kirk too sooo...............

My point? Harry Mudd gives them a pretty multi colored pill and VOILA' !!! instant face lift!.

Except Eve, she knows better and calls it a cheat, I think Eve's an Idiot, but what do me and my elbows know?. Anyway here's Eve on Rigel - please stop me from hooking up with this miner!-. Eve runs out into a sand storm RUN EVE RUN! because you're right, he's nothing to look at! and HE thinks your not as fetching??? This is who we are.

In the meantime Kirk is running after Eve, with the filter still on his face and even he looks better than Eve. There she is, in her 1966 sequin cocktail dress and sandals, on Rigel - who cares-.

In the end we find that beauty is just an illusion, and Eve ends up with the ugly Miner.

Down here on Earth things are not so different after all, we, like Eve, would rather run out into a blizzard, avoiding Captain Kirk who by the way still has that great filter thing going, than be seen first thing in the morning AND Madonna has a new BUTT!!!.......

LORD BYRON AND THE GUARDIAN ANGEL OF 7TH ST.

2011-12-18T19:21:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, the voice within says, "where do I begin?". That holds true in this place where I stand, waiting

for the words to flow. In this corner looking out at the reels of film, of my memories......... of Byron Aatlo.

Well the one thing I knew for sure, I was in trouble when Lord Byron scooped me up in his arms and said "Baby?! Im a rock!", bursting into laughter.

Lord Byron walked into the Gallery where I was working, it was 1995. He stood 6"1 ish wearing a goldsmiths apron, but all I could see were his piercing blue eyes and Jet black hair, a young Nick Cage. We had a mutual friend, Jason who worked with me. Lord Byron proceeded to ask for him, as he leaned up against the gallery viewing room wall. "HA!!!!" I thought , I know what your trying to do! "your trying to seduce me" with those baby blues....WELL!..................."my name? um...oh ok I know this one, give me a moment...Gertrude!!!!...NO!. The floor got spongy and as I sank....Sorry! nice to meet you I am Liane

and I am in control of this gallery AND my bladder, he smiled and that was it! it was over! "excuse me but I need to use the ladies room".

Jason had asked if I would represent Byron, "what does he do?" as I never bothered to ask, "he's an Artist, a printmaker" "ok" I said worried that Jason could see me drool....NEVER!!! I was in control.

I went to Byron's studio to see his work. It was clear that I was dealing with an intellectual snob as well as a brilliant printmaker, painter and sculptor. He expressed and channeled the great ones, Otto Dix, Max Earnst and George Grosz. Byron spoke their language and then created testimonies to their existence.

The Guardian Angel of 7th St.

Since Byron should have been born in the 30s or 40s, His work also reflected in every breath he took and

resonated, James Cain, Paul Bowels, WB Yeats, Hammett. Everything he created became an examination of his life, true art!, it was twisted in its humor, as the truth of his less than

ideal childhood revealed itself.

To say that we fell madly in love was like saying our favorite ice cream was ice milk! no......our love was more like a Flambé....we were gone.

Byron came from generations of goldsmiths, Gordon, Gordon's father and his father before him, all of them brilliant in their own way. Gordon's work was like the new found Calder, defying gravity.

Byron's brother Kim Lilot whose work explored death using precious metals, can be found in The Smithsonian Museum of Art

Byron exposed me to a San Francisco I never knew, oddly as children we lived just two blocks form one another, like tiny ghosts trying to find where we belonged. He and his father would tell me all sorts of tales of the old San Francisco. Once

Byron carried me piggy back up, up, Telegraph Hill, to Coit Tower, to marvel at the WPA murals, Benton, and Rivera. Byron became my eyes and I began to see a world that I had no idea was there! all this time right in front of me!. We laughed as we ran under the bridges in Golden Gate Park to the De Young for "Faberge' in America". Then off to "Johns Grill" to sit where Dashiell Hammett tortured over the "Maltese Falcon". We became engaged and there standing on the Golden Gate Bridge we kissed and I held on tight to the rail as Byron held tight to me.

Byron's mother in contrast I suppose was the cynical side to Byron, when we went up to Auburn where she lived to meet her, I was taken with her knowledge of UFOs. When we came back to Carmel, we went to see a new film called "Phenomenon", we smiled, it had been filmed in Auburn and we had just been in that bar!, little did we know then what was to come. In a mere three and a half years, Byron would be dying from a brain tumor.

We would spend many nights driving down to Big Sur and watch the Milky Way reflect off the Ocean, I would point out the constellations for him., Byron found this charming.....

His studio was like a holy place and a sweat shop!. Many nights I would climb up into the loft and curl up to sleep as he worked, the tedious lino cuts, the inking of the plates and the sound of the press became my lullaby. Byron would often put his days wax molds of jewelry into the kiln as he painted or played guitar. Finally to return home where he would read, Lord Byron never earmarked a page as this would be considered sacrilege, instead he would memorize it by putting the book up to his forehead as if in prayer. Books were like air , and he would cease to exist without them. There in the quiet I would wrap my body around his to worship his essence.

Lord Byron was extremely jealous and so proclaimed that I was not to model for anyone else but him, or work for any gallery as this was to him comparable to sleeping with other men. My punishment was loving him and his all consuming passion for me became our end.

Moving forward without Byron was like walking in deep snow, I knew I would never find home in the blizzard. But I knew I had to keep going.

In 2003 I received a phone call informing me that Byron was dying from a brain tumor and had twenty four hours if that, He had slipped into a coma. As it turned out Lord Byron had the heart of a lyon and so

in his great sleep, he slept for four months, until the angels whispered in his ear,"wake up my Lord, you have more to teach"..."wake up". And when he awoke he was blind.

It is the year of our Lord 2011 and Byron has endured nine brain surgeries.

I could tell you how much Byron accomplished in such a short time, but I think you know, I could tell you how much he has meant to those close to him, but I think you know that as well.

In a short while, The angels will come to my Lords chambers and whisper once more sweetly...and he will be free, and in that moment Byron will be all the possibilities again. His children will remember him as their father. I will remember him as my greatest teacher.

So where do we begin?, because we will be at the beginning once more. This is for Byron and anyone who has the courage to live the way Byron did. The brilliance, the possibilities, the courage......I dedicate this to Byron's family.......

http://dive65.blogspot.com/

please visit Byron Aatlo's Blog to see more of his works

"OVER THE RIVER AND INTO HELL WE GO"...A THANKSGIVING TALE

2011-11-13T16:13:00.000-08:00

Hold your sweet potatoes tight and have a seat, I have a tale to tell. Its not a pretty one, the stuffing will try to make its way back into the turkey,the gravy will go cold with shiver's and the pumpkin pie will fall like a bad soufflé. Better order the chinese food now, for when I am done with you....you may never look at "Stay Puff" marshmallows again!.

Shall we?

It was a cold dark and rainy night....NAH! it was sunny.My husband Rick, son Rikki and my two daughters Carissa and Sara were invited to Thanksgiving Gayety at the home of our friends Guy and Ann.We were told to arrive at 4:30pm NO LATER!!!. We were also told there would be other people coming. For Rick this meant " OH SHIT I HATE PEOPLE"! and already dreading the evening.....where was I? oh, yes 4:30pm NO LATER!.

We knocked on the door, dressed in our best, at our feet were two very large and dirty dogs. The door finally opened , we had arrived at 5:00 pm and late!. No other guests, save a man in the kitchen, we said our hello's to Guy and introduced to Stan who immediately grabbed my ass! I was just getting over Stan's groovy move when out of the bedroom came Ann, rollers in her hair and a bra!!!! DAMMIT I DRESSED!!!!. you know that sinking sick dreadful feeling?of "ya know Rikki's come down with a case of the WHAT THE FUCKS! and we really must be going". No that would have been the right thing to do, but we stayed, dinner would be served at 8:30PM NO LATER!!!

My girls stared at me with terror and boredom in there eyes as they reached for the Champaign. Rick as usual did not take these circumstances very well and it began to look as if an aneurysm would be the only way out. We sat with slithery Stan as the other guest had arrived. Ann had finally changed into a smashing leopard spotted top that was sheer so we could all admire her recent breast augmentation which left my son looking anywhere but at Ann. Just when things couldn't get anymore mind numbing Guy had decided to seat everyone at the table with strangers, this was not a round table, now has anyone been subjected to the surprise attack?. Well apparently this was all new to Rick and Guy made sure Rick ended up in Siberia and Guy next to me. Out of fear Rikki was aloud to sit next to me. My daughters were placed to the left of Guy....who did not believe in deodorant! I mean maybe not even out of curiosity.

As the evening meal began Ann was already three sheets gone, Sitting on Stan's lap, with both hands on her breasts. Did I mention that Guy and Ann are married? Every once in a while, I would catch the look of anger in Rick's eyes and quickly glance away only to be met by desperate eye contact from my daughters. I believe Carissa was closest to Guy and was looking nauseous, to my right was my son, who refused to eat...SHOOT ME!!!!

I think the final straw was when twister was suggested, which seemed twisted to me, considering Guy's armpits. Stan's hands and possible vomiting. The confusion began to climb to insanity when Ann, arguing with Guy about her prowess, let the wet, smelly, did I mention the large dogs?, in. And as they ran through the house, knocking things down, you could hear Ann screaming, " I'M THE ALPHA BITCH, I'M THE ALPHA BITCH!!!!" We began to feel like a captives' when Guy showed his beautiful hand-dipped candles, apple green and red, very nice. I guess this was too much for the Alpha Bitch, as she promptly returned with four foot long, hand dipped candles, making sure we all knew, her's were bigger.

My daughter's had had enough, we had to come up with something....believable...ok...."You know what?", I said to Guy, "Carissa's boyfriend is coming up from LA soon, we have to go meet him, soooo...." Guy happily said, "He can come and join us." What do you do when you're a hostage and there's no SWAT team?

By now, Rick couldn't talk and what came out was gibberish. He insisted that we really had to go. Once out of the clutches and safely walking to the car, discussing our disbelief, laughing, I let it out, about Stan's ass grab. Rick suddenly stopped. His eyes bulged. I tried to calm him. Having to sit in Siberia all night and now this, there was no stopping him. He ran up the driveway and into the house, and warned Stan, with what I'm sure sounded like a death threat mixed with spittle.

I warned you, this was not a pretty tale. This year, I am volunteering at Thanksgiving for the needy. I'll bet their stuffing won't be trying to run away from the turkey.

Oh, shit, I hope they don't have Stay-Puff Marshmallows. Happy Thanksgiving, Ok, let's play Twister.

"IT ONLY COMES ONCE A YEAR"

2011-10-18T12:03:00.000-07:00

Let me pause here, and sympathize with anyone who has had the experience of wearing a costume in a box.........let's move on........

We lived in Los Angeles, being Jewish and having Christmas trees was confusing enough, ahh, but Halloween was a time of running around in rising harvest moon and the last vestiges of heat. Did I mention this was at night?!! Never again!! Never...until next year.

My memory of Toby, was her turtleneck and shoulder length hair, that fell in that 1960's something sort of way. Toby never lost her composure, realizing she indeed had forgotten The Festival of Sugar. I looked in horror as she calmly held a cigarette in one had, scissors in the other, grabbed a sheet, cut holes in it, drew a breathe, and blew smoke....."There, you're a ghost".

My brothers were called in to hold my hand. I was given a pillowcase for my treasure. I was mortified, even then, other children would be Morticia or Batman. There I was...Casper the Faux Ghost.

As I walked down the street, I began to see other kid's suspiciously dressed the same way. With sheet over my body, pillowcase in hand, if this were a modern tale, I would have said, "Trick or Treat,! Bed, Bath and Beyond"!! Certainly my sheet had been cleaned for this special night.

My brothers had skillfully left me standing in the cal de sac. As I watched the other kids run around in their sweaty plastic masks, although, hard to tell, as I couldn't really see, I walked in the dark. Halloween has become my favorite holiday.Even now, I can hear Toby's voice echoing, "You can wear anything and look good."

"True Blood"...It's Gonna Do Bad Things To You

2011-10-06T16:44:00.000-07:00

"Stephonie? As tourists flock this Fall to the Southern states, for a little down home, Cajun family fun, what would you recommend?"

"Well, Seth, Louisiana's hippest watering hole is called......'DEATH'."" This place has everything!!! Exploding vampires, shape-shifting bartenders and werewolves addicted to "V".

"Wait, Stephonie." " I hate to ask, but what is "V"?

"It's like when you go to the tourist shop, to buy a really big silver chain, and wrap it around a vampire's neck, who's just had his hair highlighted....and begs the question, did I touch that?"

"Excuse me, Stephonie?"

"Yes Seth...."

"We're talking about families here. Can you recommend anything else. You know, say maybe more like Mardis Gras?"

"Yes...Yes....Ok, Seth....I've GOT IT!!! Forget everything you've heard about Voodoo and crawdaddies. Louisiana's newest hot spot is called.."MEAT!!" "This place has everything!! Badly dressed and clueless club owner Laugheyette, has really gone all out!!! From vibrating goat worshipers to bloody egg licking, A real favorite. And be sure to try the house special, Heart Soufflé."

"OK, OK, Stephonie...Heart Soufflé? Do I really want to know?"

"Yes? Seth?, It's a real Speciality."

"Well, Stephonie, it all sounds a little extreme. I don't know how appropriate this is for families just trying to take in the Bayou."

"Uh huh....Um Hummmm....Yes......Yes.....Well Ok Seth.......Get Ready for Louisiana's Bonvoyage Temps newest vein popping spa..."GUSH"." "This place has everything!!!! From a vampire, Bill Compromise, and a blonde that can't read his mind. Club owner Frankly Nonofmybusiness, has thought of everything!!!! From a messy death every time you look to hysteria and then business as usual, to every Southern stereotype you can think of, while you enjoy "FangBanging."

"Wait, wait...I hate to ask...but what is FangBanging?"

"Well Seth....It's like when you put together what seems to be a good idea, and, at first it is. Then, unfortunately, you get the feeling this place has to smell...and how many bi-polar vampires are there anyway and is it contagious? this just begs the question.....Did I suck that? Can Soupy Key-Lime Pie, fix that gap in her teeth? It's a really small town....isn't word going to get out?!!!! I do like the PVC and shoes and the sex, but that's getting old too....how long can this go on?"

"Well Stephonie, thank you for another fun filled look at places to visit in the South."

"My pleasure, Seth."

OCTOBER...HOMAGE

2011-09-24T17:06:00.000-07:00

The last high clouds of September. Leaves gave way to deep russets, red rubies, and bright yellows

before glorious death.

Chill that came with the damp sidewalks. The smell of dirt on pavements past.

As quite cinematic tornado swirled and danced on the ground. Gloaming came as eyes strained to see....

whispering, as shoulders shrugging. Looking up to find orange moon glow.

Temporary, timeless. This October. This calm before frost, I wait surrounded, triumphant in

melancholy.

The last strange warmth gone, as it whirled down the lamp lit road.....

NEWS@11

2011-09-09T22:26:00.000-07:00

It had rained at dawn. The headboard of my bed was against the window of my room. Gentle rising sun, warm and sweet rain blew through the drapes. All I could do was smile, here I was in my new home by the sea, that my daughter and I had found, after my trip to Mexico earlier that year. Elbows propped and face in hands, I turned over, and looked up at the last high clouds. Everything was perfect.

I was the director of a blue chip gallery and had fallen madly in love with a Frenchman, let's call him Andre Debonaire. It was September, my favorite time of year, it was warm outside as I made my way to my teapot. Through a large window next to my baby grand piano, I sat alone on my green chaise. Taking in the view, a few more moments before getting ready for the day.

I had met Andre in August 2001, tall, dark, and gorgeous, Andre was convinced that he wanted to marry me. I was convinced that he needed a green card. Both were true. I was afraid of getting married, being married to my job, it would be considered infidelity. But I didn't care, six figures and at the top.

The phone rang, I guess I should stop here and say, I didn't watch television,...ok....I admit, I was addicted to The Actor's Studio.....I picked up the receiver, to hear Andre in hysterics, at first I thought he was laughing, in between what I could only interpret was saliva blocking his thick accent, .."CNN!!! CNN!!!"

I hit the switch just in time to see an airliner bank suddenly and like a dagger, as it sliced through everyone's life. I dropped the phone, fell to my knees, I didn't know what I was looking at. Then the voices started. I could hear screaming, see people running, CNN flashing to President Bush reading a children's' book. My mind raced as I picked up the receiver to hear Andre, now in tears, talking deportation, INS, and $400.00 to his name. So I calmly told Andre to pack, he could have the room downstairs. "Andre, I have to go. Andre, I HAVE TO GO!!! ANDRE, I HAVE TO HANG UP!!!!", "Dahling, Dahling"....Click.

Dumbfounded, with the most profound pain and disappointment I had ever felt, I picked up the phone to call the owner of the gallery in San Francisco. Now shaking, the news responded by replaying how the Twin Towers in Manhattan had been struck and incoming reports of other hateful acts all happening so fast and designed so well that even Norad didn't know what to do. As Sharon picked up the phone, I had expected her to have me call my consultants and give them a day or two, to my surprise, she told me that she wanted me to call all staff and have them come to work. And in dismay I heard, " You need to stay calm Liane, open the gallery, if we don't, they win." "THEY?!!", ....."They did." And how would they know? It was like a nuclear disaster had hit Carmel.

In the days that followed, Carmel had hung American flags all down Ocean Avenue, then the fire trucks and bagpipes. Although I had expect nothing in the way of sales, oddly enough clients called to buy paintings. Somehow, 911 was a wake up call in many unusual ways. We sold a lot.

The owners of our gallery had three locations. San Francisco, Carmel and New York, we always planned our artists exhibitions a year in advance and one of those artists was Paul Balmer. A brilliant painter that lived in Tribecca was in the middle of painting for his show on West Broadway, still in the dust, debris and specters. Paul had spent most of his recent career painting the Manhattan skyline, "Twin Tower Blue" was in the middle of completion, when in his devastation and pain, refused to finish the painting.

October...Andre had moved in. He set up his computer down stairs, put a ring on my ambivalent finger. I guess I could have blamed all my insane decisions and 911, but there was only so much I could blame on Osama Bin Landen, who's assassins were surely in Heaven by now surrounded by 72 virgins.

As it turned out, Andre had gone after several women and failed to get the golden ticket. He told me he was a writer and so I had him reading Henry Miller, Kerouac, etc. In a burst of plagiarism he had decided to write a book. And so it went, I would work 5 or 6 days a week, while he wrote a couple of hours a day and took walks. I really didn't mind taking care of him as I had lost my mind.

After a long days work, begging me to listen to his stories....and edit them....while tolerating his hysterics over my disapproval of a misplaced comma.

The jig was up by " Storming of the Bastille" kismet, I went downstairs to use my computer. Let me say that Andre had switched towers, so when I tried to find my desktop, it was André's I found, along with a photo of him in a snappy dog collar and leash...not to mention the letters en-masse to other women. Yet another shock to my system, I called my girlfriend, who knew her way around the cyber-world. She confirmed that Andre Debonaire was not debonaire at all, but dubious, disastrous and....well...disgusting. Even though I was hooked on the accent, I promptly kicked him out.

November 2001

Had arrived with a conversation with Reggie, Sharon's partner. He had me speak with Paul about finishing "Twin Tower Blue" with an idea I had to make posters from the painting and sell them, with proceeds going to the FDNY rescue efforts, and thereby turning his exhibition into a benefit.

The gallery was on West Broadway, the event would be a homage to the city and it's recent tragedy. Only one catch. I was so excited by the prospects of how beautiful this would be and wasn't really listening when Reggie said I would be there. In total panic, " Aren't you going?", I said, waiting for reassurance. "No, it's your idea, so you go. and besides Sharon will go with you."

I was mystified as I walked into SFO. All around were military men holding our latest assault rifles. In line to board the plane, I knew we were all thinking the same thing. Sharon waved at Alan and I as she boarded first class, when out of nowhere, one of the soldiers pointed at me. I instinctively pointed a me as well, looking around. He gestured that I get out of line. "Oh my God, I almost made it." Someone didn't approve of my pedicure at the check point. I was clearly not going to New York but to Riker;s Island as my knees began to shake. The man in green, pointed to his squad and asked, "Pardon me ma'am, if you don't mind, we have a bet." I stood there blank. "Are you Julia Roberts?" I turned to check with Alan. as he started to laugh and everyone in line was now listening. "No, I'm not." "Oh, pardon me ma'am, sorry to have bothered you." I slunk back in line with head held low, observing Alan in an uproar and ready for a drink. We boarded. It was announced that the film for the flight would be American Sweethearts.

As the plane started it's final decent, we were low enough to see the skyline, but something was lost and replaced by a eerie green flood of light coming out of the ground. It felt as though nothing would ever be the same, and of course, we were right.

The next morning I arrived at the gallery, while dust still on cars and ground and oddly warm. The show was astonishingly stunning. That evening we had people at the gallery doors with candles, and every painting sold. We ended the evening by celebrating at Tavern On The Green, glowing in holiday cheer. I wanted to embrace the New York that I knew and loved.

I said my goodbyes as a special driver was arranged to take me to Ground Zero then to the airport. As we got closer, I was aware of the smell of burning rubber and what looked like snow all around me. Particles of memories lifting from the sidewalks. A stream of water was going on and off. But the one thing I understood very clearly was the steel corner of the World Trade Center, on it's last foundation of security resisting the inevitable. Standing as the last testament. Widowed. it looked like lace, intricate and fragile. Change had come, change gone and went and change was on the way.

in a New York Minute.....

"HELLO GORGEOUS!", "THE TOBY CHRONICLES"

2011-08-22T18:27:00.000-07:00

In 1968, Funny Girl came to the big screen. Barbara Streisand as Fanny Brice. Unaware at the age of nine how apparently important this was, found myself sitting in one of those kiddy haircut joints . Thinking to myself, 'Why were the giraffes and tigers so huge!', 'Should I start screaming?'. I saw pieces of my hair fall four feet below, only to be turned around in the torture chair . I now looked like Funny Girl, Ya know? the " Oh my man I love him so, he'll never know" scene? THAT HAIR CUT!. Nothing in the back, with a shock of hair parted on one side long enough to put behind my ear...the one ear. I received my lolly pop, Toby was thrilled with my new look, was she aware that I had to go to school?

What Toby had in class and flare, she made up for with her twisted sense of humor. In the 1960's life was so different, almost like another planet. There would be incidents. Toby was always the center of attention at parties, she was an incredible singer and so the plan at cocktail hour was to start asking Toby early in the festivities to sing a song. There on the floor in peach chiffon dress with marabou feathered cuffs, Toby would pose in manner of Shirley Bassey.......lying on her side. Toby would begin, I would hold my breath so I could hear every note, not a dry eye in the house.

At Herb Albert's party Toby said her goodbyes. On the ride home, decided she no longer wanted the shrimp she had put in her purse and began to throw them out the car window ....which was closed.

Toby had the look of a beatnik with money. Gorgeous, hazel eyes, fabulous frosted shoulder length hair . I loved her black turtlenecks, long fingers that held a cigarette like it was art. She was many thing's, but alas Toby did not like the kitchen. A building fear throughout the day, what would she do?. Hamburgers? well, thats what she said they were and I mean were!!! , it was hard to tell , black and round like a baseball. Perhaps Swiss Steak? the Swiss are so diplomatic , god knows we weren't. Toby was great with Bisquick. T.V. dinners were a wonder!, as I wondered how my blueberry muffin spilled onto the peas.

My sister Robin and I endured being dressed the same way, mostly in hip Twiggy like mini shifts....Robin is three years younger than I....no matter. Christmas in San Francisco, Toby purchased matching "Mary Tyler Moore" knitted tams and mittens, we went to Union Square on the clanging cable cars, I had to fight the compulsion to throw my tam hat in slow motion a'la Mary Tyler Moore show. Christmas dinner at Lefty O' Doul's.

The festive tree Toby had flocked oh say in pink that year. I loved watching the color wheel at the base of the tree, which sort of scared me as I couldn't look away. "A Charlie Brown Christmas". Thank Goodness for the others who cooked the turkey and stuffing. I was content just to watch Toby arrange the presents, with cigarette in hand and my anticipation of Toby singing "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas"

Not a dry eye in the house.........

"MY NAME IS FORREST GUMP..... PEOPLE CALL ME FORREST GUMP"

2011-08-10T18:47:00.000-07:00

Signs went up everywhere, on fences, poles, and handed to everyone. Calls were made. The day after coming back from my trip to the great northwest I opened the door and let Jasper out for his early morning walkabout...it's been two months.

During these agonizing days of waiting and calling Jasper's name, driving up and down streets nearby, yard's that looked like jungles fit for little lyons. Neighbors called to say they had seen Jasper playing with their cats. Each time the phone rang I wondered why no one picked him up and brought him home to me. After all, he had a collar, tag and was chipped. I began to think this was the problem, they didn't think he was lost... hadn't they seen the signs?.

The calls stopped.....3&1/2 weeks. Nothing.

Now being schooled in Practicalmajick, I decided to light a candle and ask the powers that be, " oh great universe, if Jasper is alive please send him home". The first candle went out , the next morning the phone rang with a man who swore he saw Jasper " down by the tennis court's" I was there in minutes but there was no sign of him. I wasn't going to let that stop me, I knew he was out there somewhere.The second candle was lit and again I asked, "I will accept if Jasper is gone, but if not, oh great powers that be bring him home". Sure enough another call, from a woman, who laughing, told me the cat she thought was Jasper was sitting underneath the flyer of him. This time I found myself at a lovely garden home only to find that the poser was not my little darling.

By the fourth candle I thought OK this can't be coincidence, I will test the waters and lit the wick. Two hours after the flame went out the phone rang yet again, this time there were three people watching Jasper near a Carmel hotel, my heart pounded as I ran down the path. I picked him up and took him into the light, he was so beautiful but had darker coloring. I was told he was hunting and had been hanging around assorted bowls for two weeks.

I took him home. When he walked into my house he wasn't afraid at all, we understood each other right away, we had both been lost.

The next morning I called the SPCA, a match!!!!!! thirty minutes later a beautiful military wife and her baby were hoping her cat "Chesty " was upstairs, she called his name....nothing. I showed her to the door I told her Jasper brought this cat to me so "Chesty" could communicate with her " don't worry" I said.

I sat staring at the cat which I now had named "Forrest", "Life is like a box of chocolates, ya never know what your gonna get" cliche?...nah. Something had happened to me. One thing was true, the universe was finding Jasper everywhere and saying "is this Jasper?", "we think this is your cat", "look! we found your cat", to " this is NOW your cat". Of course Forrest was my cat and Jasper had found him.

Jasper is still missing, but I know how he touched my life and many others in those few weeks.

I can't help but being grateful, is this the Forrest for the trees? I don't know, I do know we need to pay attention. So...."is this your job?", "is this

your husband?", "is this your life?".......

"LET THEM EAT CAKE"

2011-08-04T18:24:00.000-07:00

August was the pinnacle of heat and Summer's end especially when your birthday falls Mid- Month,which mine did. So, did the dreaded combo of school supplies and school clothes disguised as birthday present's.

This year at least was salvaged by getting the dream present every girl dreams of, " The Easy Bake Oven"!

It was a MIRACLE!!!, A MODERN MARVEL!!!! it was a...light bulb! dressed in turquoise.

We lived in house that I was sure was haunted, ever since my two older brother's decided to lock me in my mother Toby's bedroom, with light's out and holding door knob.This was it!!!!! I was sure since Toby had one by one buried our family cat's in the backyard...the graveyard not far from where I stood. I knew THEY were coming for me!!!. My brothers, laughing finally let me out. Tears running down my face,Toby sauntered down the hall to see what all the fuss was about. After I spat out what I am sure by then was speaking in tongues!!!, responded by telling the two monster's to stop torturing me and turning to me, had hoped I hadn't mussed up the bedding...IN THE DARK!!!!!.

Then there was the big co-ed party for my brother Mark, month's earlier, Mark's girlfriend was invited, David called her "NOSE". They decided to barricade me in my room with a large chair, to my left I heard the "Mamas and the Papas" and what I thought was dancing....how long could this go on?, would I be fed?what about water?. Back to my birthday...

August was the month all the kids on our block would get together and put on play's in our garage ...which I am sure was haunted. when the cloud's became black and heavy with the smell of summer rain, my sister and I could hear the electricity coming and in frantic laughter, blanket over our head's would run as fast as we could.

Our backyard had a brick BBQ of which I was sure was haunted. I sat and set up my " Easy Bake Oven". Taking care to mix every lumpy cake mix, and pour into the 4 inch pan's. There slaving over a hot light bulb, the Florescent orange icing...I would look into the porthole of deception. I started to notice my brother's, hovering like rabid sugar addict's. I nervously waited for each masterpiece to come out of my turquoise dream only to watch Daivd and Mark devour every cake available.

There I sat in the graveyard of my homemaking, which I am sure was haunted. Think!! Think!! how was I going to outwit Toby into special ordering new mixes, after all I had been told to ration....and in a blur of turquoise glow, my brothers ate my baking futures..

Oh well Easy bake ...easy go.....

AND THEN IT GOT WEIRD

2011-07-16T17:36:00.000-07:00

What does it mean when all the men I am attracted to are gay?. This small tale begins with LA Brett.

LA Brett had a great ass. I must never confuse a beautiful tall drink of water, traveling with Sister to be

straight...is this what it had come to?.

I was selling LA Brett a work of art, I was batting my baby brown's, I was certain Brett had received my morse code for.. Let's get out of here. Had the water pill done permanent damage to my brain?., Waves of denial must have been at work, and in the whirl I could hear straight!!!, gay!!!!, straight!!!!, STRAIGHT!!! available? NO!!! GAY!!!.

I thought I knew better, since one of my dearest friends was gay. Bob is an incredible hair stylist. we did everything together. We had coordinated one of Bob's obsessive desires, to put together a "Goodwill" fashion show. I came up with a homeless benefit and viola!. Bob had gathered all the outfit's that our model's would wear. we called it "ALL TOGETHER NOW". One of the funniest thing's about Bob was the way he sang, like the guy from the "B52s". So while Bob and I were the only two people in the cinema, watching "Pink Floyd's" "The Wall" I could swear I heard "Rock Lobster" as Bob soulfully sang " I have become comfortably numb".

Back to LA Brett. When I became aware Brett was not interested in my team I hit the wall, ya know the one. Confused, I thought " I know how to fix this"!. Online dating? perhaps helmet hair! This was indeed a dark day.

NEWS @ 11

2011-07-04T20:45:00.000-07:00

After a long days work, begging me to listen to his stories....and edit them....while tolerating his hysterics over my disapproval of a misplaced comma.

November 2001

in a New York Minute.....

MOOSE AND SQUIRREL...Sarah Palin and Russia are holding me hostage!

2011-06-17T17:52:00.000-07:00

According to the " Research and Destinations" Overview of Fairbanks Alaska, read's as follows:

Fairbanks, 360 miles north of Anchorage, at the end of the Alaska Highway and at the end of the road
for most tourist's. Though somewhat bland, it's central location makes it a great base for exploring. Summer
visitor's should try to catch the three day Eskimo-Native Olympics in mid July. Contestants compete in dance, art and sports, as well as ear pulling, knuckle hop, high kick and the blanket toss. Fairbanks suffers remarkable extremes of climate, with winter temps. dropping to -70F. The Proximity to the Arctic Circle mean's over 21 hours of sunlight in midsummer. SOLD!!!!

I swooned at what the next two weeks had in store for me.

So here I am at SFO waiting to board flight 305 to Seattle. I thought I would jot down a few words, I am the only one using a pen. Sitting in front of me an E- Reader,to his right an iPad, the woman casually sitting on the floor an iBook. Next to me texting, across from me texting, to my far right, texting, behind me, texting...My hand is in a horrid cramp as I write this.

The Plane landed in Seattle, what a view I love this city. I had a four hour lay-over. When I planned my trip I had cleverly boxed all my bathing suite's and summer whites via the post office, I like lot's of choices so I ended up with a heavy duffle bag filled with panties, make-up, iPOD and book's. Just in case the plane went down I would be prepared. I would later be celebrated as a hero as I helped others stay warm in the ocean by putting underwear on their head's, while helping to keep their spirits up by sharing my iPOD and ear-bud's. I wasn't gonna let a four hour wait take away my sense of adventure, so I happily paid for my $20.00 Turkey bagel. I walked to my table, I noticed a weird twinge, I ignored it.

As I sat I heard "would a L. Langford please come to gate bum fuck Egypt to meet your party?" I stared down at my unwrapped food, looked at my duffle and told myself it was a mistake.
"L. Langford we know your in the building and we are not afraid to use force!".
Feeling that familiar sting and need to pee, I gathered everything up and walked to Siberia.
" hello I am L. Langford, you paged me?".
The guy looked down at a woman sitting on the floor nearby,who looked like she had been bathing in dirt. "yeah we found her". How many L. Langford's are there for fucks sake!, realizing the stinging was making it hard to stand, I made my way back to my gate and continued to ignore the pain. Finally I looked around for the nearest ladies room and began the worst bladder infection of my life. Echoing in my stall was the strangest choice of music for an airport I had ever heard, ya know where planes are taking off and landing? and as I listened to Robert Plant sing..."and She's buying the Staircase to Heaven" I felt at the very least Ironic.

I actually was looking forward to my layover, as I adore Seattle I would hop a cab and take in some sightseeing. As it turned out I did get to see the city after-all ...from the back of an ambulance, being whisked away and told I would miss my flight...NO NO!!! I don't want to miss the blanket toss!!!!!!.
Thing's were going according to plan -not my plan mind you but some diabolical plan to ruin my 21 hours of sunlight sunbathing!. And so after a stay ER and the Holiday Inn, 2 hour's of refreshing sleep I
was ready to face the world with a bright new attitude that went perfectly with my new found nausea.

What a relief to land in Fairbanks. I really think those bright yellow trucks on either side of the plane made a nice escort. I met my 1/2 Brother Rusty at the terminal.
"What are all the Police and fire trucks for?" as He escorted me outside, Rusty replied,"Oh there's been a bomb threat". Did I mention this is FAIRBANKS???. someone must have called it in threatening harm if
Alaska continued to allow Sarah Palin to teach history...or things like talk....about anything!.

My Father, Lewis who I was visiting for some much needed R&R, had lived in Alaska for the past 50 year's and felt it would be good place to vacation/live. It had been a bone of contention ever since my Mother and he divorced. Lewis had told me many times why California was responsible for my ill health and really didn't understand Crohns disease...fair enough, I didn't either. Lewis is a self made man. He used his hands not Inheritance to get where he stand's today, a country boy with money. On the other hand all of this was in complete opposition to the niceties of my Russian upbringing, which included several relative's with bout's of Inheritance. Raised in Los Angeles, not even close to the Arctic Circle.

I finally made it to Lewis' home tired and sick. I don't think Vomiting and or constant Diarrhea was in the Itinerary. Lewis who had been a devout Christian, told me between visits to the bathroom, that the Devil was the bringer of sickness and so I must be possessed. Being Jewish my fate was sealed. My brother Rusty tried to soothe my worry by telling me he couldn't wait for the Rapture.."don't you mean the Raptor?" "No?". I was ready to kill myself with the whiskey I found next to the bisquick. " but I saw two receding ice floes from the air, doesn't that worry you?" "Heck no", Rusty said in his best." God want's us to use up all our resources as fast as we can". "Why would you want to do that?" "The faster we do, we all get to be with Jesus our savior". At this point I wish I had been baptized ...who would know, it's apparently insurance. My father always said, all I needed to do was move to Alaska and I would feel better. I was aware that unless I became re-born after vomiting Satan out of my body, I was fucked. Wait is that dueling banjoes? nah ...just a nervous breakdown.

The last straw after seeing bobcats on the neighbors walls and moose portraits in every restaurant, was when I got into bed for some sleep, all tucked in, earplugs and eye-mask. Half asleep I became aware of someone in my room as I lifted my mask an peeked, there was a strange man standing 2 feet away "Time to wake up". Since I have been here, I had been stared at like the last roast beef left on the planet and wasn't going to take any chances. I sat up and said " Did you need a cocktail? if not, IM ASLEEP!".
"wheel it was reel nice ta meet ya". I knew right then and there I wasn't made for Alaska, I was going to miss talking to my Russian Compatriots, I knew my Prada's would hate it and was fairly certain that my vintage Chanel bag would disintegrate if I took it for a ride in the pick-up.

I leave you with one important thought.....No Moose were harmed in the making of this blog.

WARM MITTEN'S...JUST THOUGHTS

2011-06-02T19:04:00.000-07:00

Here I am in beautiful Carmel, up among the tree's with ocean view's and late afternoon amber light. And while gazing at my adorable cat, I started having thoughts...thoughts we would never voice out loud or mention to anyone for fear of being left on our own to have them. Just thoughts. Back to gazing at Fluffy. Visions of what that cute little darling would do, say if I met with an untimely demise.

Would my Precious realize that he had the place all to himself, maybe decide to make a cioppino. Of course. Realizing that he had no thumbs and in need of some advise, he would cleverly work the handle on the slatted windows. Jump down, knock over the neighbor's potted plant, successfully getting "FiFi" the yappy dog's attention. My little dumpling would miraculously cross the language barrier. The result?, "Look here yappy dog "FiFi", I have no thumbs and was looking forward to cooking up a fine cioppino, maybe open a bottle of wine, so now I have to think about the corkscrew!" "My employee doesn't seem to care...or move for that matter". "Never mind you wouldn't understand, nothing personal, but, a little advice. Have you taken a good look in the mirror? To be honest, you smell like mildew".

Ahh, but yappy dog "FiFi" did know what to do and ran to her master's kitchen, bringing back two oven mittens. "Well, they're a bit big....THUMBS!!! I have THUMBS!!!! Thank you yappy dog "FiFi". If you manage to clean yourself up, come by. I'm having a soiree'". "Gay?, Who said I was gay?".

With new found dexterity, my sweet bundle of joy would come through the front door. Realizing he was quite the saucier, trotted to the stove. It seemed oddly OK with me that my little lion was cooking with fire!, and decided to change my out-going message on my phone using Morse Code, of course.

I will stop here and not mention the other thoughts I had on this matter. Involving waxing floors and playing "Ice Rink", the trying on of shoes or putting erroneous "Likes" on my Facebook page. I know you're thinking, 'Good God, Liane, you're twisted.

Maybe. But I bet you're thinking now. I was going to call this blog entry, "The Lovely Mittens"... One step at a time, as we walk in the dark. Now, if you pardon me, I'm late opening a can of Friskies.

YOU'VE GOT SOME GAULLE...

2011-05-16T18:17:00.000-07:00

In 2003 it was official I had congestive heart failure, so I did what any 41 year old woman would do...
I went to the nearest tattoo joint and had the word Paris inked on my upper arm."Now I have to go".
So many opportunities lost. Directing an art gallery has it highs and lows and one of those lows is when the owners tell you to take your vacation in February! as not to disturb the tourist season in Carmel. Mexico here I come.

It seemed ironic that many years later that's exactly what I would do...I found myself in Paris in February right smack in the middle of winter cold. Paris! Oh how I slaved over your language, studied your art with passion, learned how to play Satie and Debussy!. I always thought I would live in your dissident glow and the oh so not right sparkly twinkle of the Eiffel Tower. I could see myself sauntering to the tebac for cafe' and living on ham and cheese beget. Paris!, Paris!, Paris!. I didn't have to wear those horrid D'Jore Paris tees, my arm said it all..a true Francophile.

It was February 2007 my husband and I had decided to go to the land of Victor Hugo, we had very limited funds "5 days? ...hmm ok lets go". We packed passport at the ready and boarded Air France.
Now its a long flight from California to France. Richard who is an avid smoker seemed to have forgotten. There he was, I can still see his neck bulge and legs and hands danced in a sort of spasm. We finally landed, Richard had his chance. It was obvious that the nicotine gum had failed. I told him to get off the plane and smoke in the mens room," No! The stewardess said to stay put,"because the last fucking plane was late, so we have to wait for the fucking plane to drop off passengers!!!!". With a "hey I'm going to Paris smile on my face..."fuck it I'm getting food". When I got back, Richard had informed me "the 2 fucking passengers had arrived". Of course now it WAS too late to sneak a ciggy.We took off for another very long leg of travel....

We landed at the Charles de Gaulle airport rushing people, so many different languages!.The Carousel spat out our luggage, no smoking signs everywhere. Richard forgot I was there as he rolled over my feet with his rolling luggage, straight out through the glass sliding doors, to our driver and lit up.
Making matters worse, was when Richard discovered he could not smoke in the car. Barely speaking to each other we drove towards Paris which was about 45 minutes away. I began to jump up and down in my seat it came as surprise "look look!" of in the faint distance "The Eiffel Tower!!!" Richard looked at me as if I had announced dinner was ready....well if you knew how I cooked...never mind....
All the joy fell away, this is where the director says "CUT! " "lets try that again and Richard with more feeling?".

We had rented a flat in the Latin Quarter by a company called Yellow Stay, I don't know about you but that seems a most unfortunate name as I kept calling them Yellow Stain!...first morning in Paris we went to a tabac for cafe' and to watch the locals, then we were off and running.

I ran towards Winged Victory and cried before Leonardo, was half frozen at the top of the Eiffel Tower,
sat in joy in front of Sacre' Core. The French and their sheer distain of Americans, so I thrilled to be asked by an American if I spoke English....I was in! Now, five days is not enough time to get over the jet lag so of course I never saw Paris at night. But there were other benefits to staying up from midnight till dawn...Richard's X wife was a real peach and would call in the middle of the night, every night....maybe she wanted to wish us a bon nuit?...nah. and the email we received from Richard's attorney letting him know that his X had hidden, robbed him and the IRS of 170.000 big ones...maybe she just wanted him to know all was well and to have a good time.........nah.

We had two days left and I was coming down with a virus.They had closed the Catacombs they must have known I was coming. "Hurry its her life's dream!!! shut it down!" It was like going to Euro Disney and all I got were the E tickets. Shhhhh! The French might hear you!.

Richard had met up with a dear friend from London, it was our last day in Paris. Our flat was on the fourth floor in one of Blvd. Haussmanns finest, oh how I loved his Paris. I lay in bed looking through the grated iron worked balcony, to the rooftops and other balconies.The sky was so blue and bright. As I gazed I could see flurries of snow. The ceiling above my head began to vibrate I could hear soft melodies echoing, muffled, beautiful, I couldn't tell if it was a child practicing or an adult, did it matter?

In the reverie of sound and snow, all the crazy days and mishaps were gone. Finally I was in Paris, this is Paris...My Paris. Next Summer I have made plans to visit Florence Italy......

MEXICAN LULLABY

2011-05-05T17:11:00.000-07:00

Mariachi music screaming....""Quanto es?" "420 Pesos" they drive.They drive past where people sit in the shadows of deserted buildings.

She sits in the club, the heat creeps in through the grated windows.Her silk skirt blows with the soft air.She can hear the sounds of children just outside,selling candy no one will buy. His pale blue eyes hid the darkness inside.The stranger took Her hand.

They walked the cobblestone streets with talk of Paul Bowels and Kerouac, higher now past the Cathedral

where laundry criss crosses the stars. They enter the harsh light where the one star plaque proudly hangs above the desk.Up the rod iron neon lit stairs,down the long narrow hall.

The room unfolds its secrets...the air conditioner hanging half out of the wall in useless desperation to cool the room. Black and white checkered linoleum floors , stucco walls.

She stands on the balcony and smokes, happy to wave to at the jubilant strangers down in the streets below. She felt his arm around her waist.

The morning came, she walked down to the sea, the wind hot on her pale face.

There she turned to see clouds rolling in over the mountains.

She knew the storm was already on the way,and in the shadows she thought she could hear a small voice say "Quanto es?"

SAY WHO DOES YOUR HAIR....

2011-04-28T18:01:00.000-07:00

It was 2003,ish and I had fallen for a Vampire and you know HOW THEY CAN BE!!!!, soon I was under
the spell...but really I think it was the hair.

I had always been a sucker...pardon me!!....for a guy with long gorgeous hair. I knew that when he grew tired of my long neck,someone else would play my role. ahh I thought to myself I will miss the black mornings dragging legs out of bed at 8am reaching for caffeine and wondering..."maybe I should take
a shower"...or "move to Europe"!!!! the scope of choice was staggering!!!.

Girls this is what happens when dating a potsmoken, extweekin....................did I mention the hair???

Lets just call this bloodthirsty tornado Armand, who came blowing into my life and for some reason I mistook
Him for a soft Spring rain.Parts of rooftops and frightened cats flew in this vortex of red flags.Armand seemed nice enough...a real fixer upper and the sex??!!!!....well a real fixer upper.I would have to say Armand represented every unfortunate dysfunctional out of my mind decision I had ever made.

So as the dust of my life got caught in the storm I would gaze into his lipped baby blues,Hypnotized I would tilt my head as if to say "here I have more""take it all"!! YUP! I had it all, but the hair made up for it all. LA/ROME with just a hint of the sun kissing the end's, falling perfectly on shoulder.I think I may need a transfusion!.

It was a choice...the way I saw it... I could become my own Anne Rice tragedy or I could simply ask him who his hairdresser was................."Say who does your hair"?......

The Outer Banks

2011-04-20T19:47:00.000-07:00

I am always amazed and spellbound every time I look up and into the night sky, the Milky Way, we are, after all wrapped gently by this galactic mother. The clouds of dust make it impossible to see the faint glimmerings of light, it has always been invisible to our naked eye. In the center of this spiral, is what is known as "The City Of Light", and I thought Paris was the center of my universe!!

Ah, but something less lovely and dark sits at the center of our galaxy...a massive black hole. Here, the calm, in the middle of which billions of stars and the earth, in all her glory, rotate. Now, when I think of the Sun, I think of...well...the pool, "Oh cabana boy!!", but in the cold of Winter Solstice, this magnificent star sets it's lovely body right in harms way and receives all the radiation possible near the black center. Now, that's a SPF that you could never buy!. Basically the Sun is our fall guy.

With all the talk of the coming Winter 2012, I thought I would have my Moon in Aquarius, and say, around 74% of what's out there is considered "Dark Energy" or the" edge of the universe"....23% is considered "Dark Matter", ya know, galaxies, stars, measurements of mass etc.... 0.4%, you heard me..0.4% is what we know as "Matter" or what matters. That's right, we are the ghosts of the universe. The mind reels!!!
This is where I feel heads will explode and we can't have that. After all, the Sun is the fall guy. So, consider this for a moment and look closer, we are not so different. We use about 20% of our brains and the rest is the "edge of the universe". We know it's expanding and somewhere we have the "City of Light".
We see, we know and while there is plenty of room to Walk In The Dark, even in the glomming, we look for star lights. We will always stumble, reaching from our tiny solar systems, towards the light switch.

So the next time you wish upon a star, think of all those stars that traveled billions of light years, so you could look up and marvel in the possibility of your universe.

Fragile, Earth where cracks in The temperature keep it cool to give, You understand....Imogen Heap

ROCK HUDSON AND THE CIRCUS...

2011-04-13T21:31:00.000-07:00

The "Shermart" was the beginning and the end, it was on the border of Beverly Hills and West Hollywood.

Back then this part of town was called "The Sherman", it was a time of railroads,now deserted tracks on Santa Monica Blvd. Like I said beginnings and endings.My family owned this landmark, coming from Russia to settle in Hollywood.

What I remember most about The "Shermart" were the stories my Grandmother would tell,She was a

regular Hedda Hopper!,But always kept a secret when needed and although She became very close with

Rock Hudson.She never gave away any clues,until many years later, even then we would have to hazard a guess.

The "Shermart" was a cornerstone for movie stars and the gay community alike, but what I remember most about The "Shermart" wasn't the famous and infamous, it was the that my Grandmother would let

me run wild down the Isles.I could pick one just one treat. Well when you are five years old...

your mind AND face freeze.I can think of it this way, say Saks 5th says Ok one pair of shoes...go crazy..

you've got five minutes.

So there I was, frozen, my head spinning...Sweetarts?, Bubblegum?... Hurry, down the rows..No? No?!.

There at last... this will go with everything, as I glanced down at my footwear.

The Barnum Cookies!!!.The cover of the box just like circus train windows! animals, waiting to

come out of their cages and be freed.My favorite part was the handle, so swanky and swish!. I must have thought even as a child this was indeed a couture bag by Nabisco'.

With my head a little higher, kissing my grandmother, as I walked out of the market and into the

warm Santa Ana's, standing while ghost trains whistled down the tracks of Santa Monica Blvd.

The Day Ed Hardy Died

2011-04-06T20:39:00.000-07:00

Love kills slowly, especially if you're wearing Ed Hardy T-shirts, scarves, hats, rain boots, glasses, the kind you drink from, Good God Man!!!! Just get the tattoo!!! Well, I for one, am relieved knowing I can fulfill all my Ed Hardy needs at Marshalls.

It's easy isn't it? To size people up with just one glance. The misguided who use a Beadazzler to the point where sunglass's are needed, "Oh, look, your jeans are so sparkly". Thumb rings....first of all, these little ditties went out in the 90's...nothing more frightening than a middle age in one is forcing 66 year old Mom to wear one too.

I know, stay with me, I always make sense in the end. Ok..."Awesome" should not be the word to describe your morning Macchiatto.

Like I said, it's easy to look at some and have it all wrapped up,then again sometimes the universe hands you a curve ball.

I checked into the illustrious Monterey Pines Nursing Home. while receiving three different antibiotics. The doctors said it was this or loosing my entire colon, brought to you by "Humira". The head of the joint gave the suite, obviously reserved for only the finest.....me. Set right above the kitchen. It was just after Easter, in the middle of a heat wave, this massive room all to myself, a bit lonely, I'll admit. The Mariachi music made it's way through my windows and mixed with the grease made it all seem exotic.

"I'll show you won't die in this incredibly yellow room". I began looking out of the door, from my bed, I could see people rushing past, nurses pushing wheelchairs. The woman who screamed everyday, and everyday I asked, "Is she Ok?"...Over the din, I was told, "OH YEAH, FINE, JUST FINE!!!!".

That's when I saw him. He was tall in stature, in elegant black coat. I could see as he walked with purpose, a flat, black, portfolio tucked tightly under his arm. Glimpses of water colors, sketches, memory. As the days went by, the man would go past my door. Finally I asked the nurse, "I just love that tall man, you know, the one who visits"?. "He is very elegant, does he come to visit his Mother or his Father?" The nurse looked up from my IV, and out the door as if seeing him. "Oh, you must mean Mr. Houston.......he lives here."

My eyes glazed over as everything faded away, the heat wave, wheel chairs, the clatter of the kitchen below, all was silent. That perfect moment I knew, we were all Mr. Houston at one time or another, walking with purpose, holding on tight, and we all lived here. Another exmaple of beauty on this sometimes dark and grimy path.

The way I looked at everything changed the day I saw Mr. Houston.

Presto, CHANGE-O, STILL THE SAME-OL

2011-03-30T21:43:00.000-07:00

So, I'm chatting with my favorite girlfriend on the phone, she says to me, with an approval seeking tone in her voice, "He's not so hideous???" Without further notice or warning, that's right, it's time for 'A Walk In The Dark's' tips for internet dating.

I'd like to start with banners. For those of you who don't know what banners are...who are you kidding?...As I was saying....banners.....

"Lookin4myprincess"
Well, ladies, I've seen this one a thousand times...and I never get tired of seeing it. Gosh, he's got a glass slipper. Now run...run like the wind.

"TallDarknDangerous"
Yeah....you're tall.

"Youngndumb4U"
Oh goody. My favorite. He's young...and dumb....just for you.

"SwissfondofU"
Which is short for Swiss fondue. I don't know about you but Velveeta comes to mind.

"Helleyeddateme"
Well, no, I wouldn't, but you seem happy.

Then, those wonderful opinions, stats and options, such as, "average", "athletic"....etc....
Lets' go with "athletic".

"Athletic"
This special guy really wants you to know that he's not dieting anymore and His picture is 20 years old.

"Likes quiet evenings at home"
In cyber land this means "I watch a lot of TV and I don't get out much..Can you pass me that beer?"

"Enjoys romantic walks on the beach"
Which means, "Hey, this was multiple choice."

Never date a man that wears a fanny pack, even if he says he's from Europe...that thing's not coming off!!!

I once met a guy who's banner read, "WildeRide", and I thought...hmmm....he's Swiss, in his 20's, looks like Michael Hutchins, "WildeRide"...how fun and delightful. I hopped in my red Beamer, with my new Gwen Stefani platinum hair, drove to San Francisco for dinner at a Hofbrau and dancing at Ruby Skye's. It was our second meet, so I had nothing to worry about or had the bleach gone to my brian cells? I parked in North Beach and made my way up the steep Telegraph Hill. For those who don't know me, a few months prior to this, I'd had congestive heart failure due to medication given to me for my Crohn's, thus the platinum and new tattoo....and what could be sexier..?

In my black stilettos, my fabulous beaded crocheted dress, huffing and puffing, thinking, they're going to find me dead right here in all my Gwen Stefani glory. They'll kneel down and whisper, "Like the hair".

Finally the building where Swiss steak lived. Into the old elevator, trying to catch my breath, striking a pose, figuring out my opening lines, I knocked on the door. Without warning, there my date stood in all his glory, beer in hand. I looked down at his black Speedo..."Oh, I see you're dressed"....

I know you're anxious to get back to www.manofmydreams.com, but in closing...

Blind Date = He will never see you...He's blind

MySpace = Give me some...

Facebook = You're too close to mine

alt, exit, delete, reboot,....

It Only Comes Once A Year

2011-03-21T19:57:00.000-07:00

My favorite time of the year had come. I was 6. The leaves had turned and it was time for Linus to sit and wait aimlessly for The Great Pumpkin. Charlie Brown never got anything but rocks, but we knew better. Candy was the reward for just asking for it. Unfortunately, this year was different....My Mother, Toby, had forgotten Halloween. How could this be!!!, I was sure I had reminded her, at least in my six year old head, I played the scene over and over, but there was still no sign of my Woolworth's costume.
Let me pause here, and sympathize with anyone who has had the experience of wearing a costume in a box.........let's move on........

We lived in Los Angeles, being Jewish and having Christmas trees was confusing enough, ahh, but Halloween was a time of running around in rising harvest moon and the last vestiges of heat. Did I mention this was at night?!! Never again!! Never...until next year.

My memory of Toby, was her turtleneck and shoulder length hair, that fell in that 1960's something sort of way. Toby never lost her composure, realizing she indeed had forgotten The Festival of Sugar. I looked in horror as she calmly held a cigarette in one had, scissors in the other, grabbed a sheet, cut holes in it, drew a breathe, and blew smoke....."There, you're a ghost".

My brothers were called in to hold my hand. I was given a pillowcase for my treasure. I was mortified, even then, other children would be Morticia or Batman. There I was...Casper the Faux Ghost.

As I walked down the street, I began to see other kid's suspiciously dressed the same way. With sheet over my body, pillowcase in hand, if this were a modern tale, I would have said, "Trick or Treat,! Bed, Bath and Beyond"!! Certainly my sheet had been cleaned for this special night.

My brothers had skillfully left me standing in the cal de sac. As I watched the other kids run around in their sweaty plastic masks, although, hard to tell, as I couldn't really see, I walked in the dark. Halloween has become my favorite holiday.Even now, I can hear Toby's voice echoing, "You can wear anything and look good."

The T Zone

2011-03-20T20:05:00.000-07:00

So, I'd like to talk about "Them", if "They" don't mind. Who are "They" and what do "They" want? Abbott & Costello said, "Who's on first"? Well....I think "They" are.

"They" have decided what color eye shadow I should wear, and according to "Them", Speedo's are just plain death,... sometimes "They're" right. "They" always have something to say. "They" have "Their" finger on the pulse. "They" said frozen yogurt was non-fat. It's all about "Them". Yet we rely on "Their" opinion, because "They" know best. If you don't believe me, just ask "Them", only "They" know for sure.

While I exhaust myself with paranoid thoughts of "Them", I sit in the T Zone, "To Hell with "Them". "I love my electric blue eye shadow", so what, my eyes look like road reflectors. It's gotta be good, it's made by Hello Kitty!

I will stand and dust myself off, walk away, Then and There. Free myself and become "Thy" self.
Wait......isn't that just another form of "Them"? Hang on...I'll ask.

Reproduction of any portion of this broadcast without the expressed written consent of ABC Sports and the National Football League is strictly prohibited.....by THEM!!!!

My Life As Julia Roberts or How To Make An Omelet

2011-03-13T21:31:00.000-07:00

I had always suffered under the delusion of others that I was Julia Roberts. I soon realized that total strangers didn't mind approaching me. Confounded, I started wearing sunglasses at restaurant tables, sitting in the middle of the room, this only made matters worse.

One of my favorite "Julia" moments was when in Costco. I was approached with the usual. 'Are you Julia Roberts?'. I donning my darkest of eye-wear smiled and delivered my line, 'Thank you, I am not'. You know that something's wrong when the response is, 'Are you sure?'.

I became everyone's favorite Julia character according to their favorite Julia film.

I have lived in Carmel California as an art dealer for many years and had become quite comfortable in my role as Julia's twin. But as time went by, I heard a nagging little voice. 'Hey, you, second best Julia Roberts'. 'Yeah, you, could you be the test drive Julia'?. It made sense, as I'm older than Julia, so Julia looks like me, yet I am not a millionaire!

I had suffered from Crohns disease, several nasty and unattractive surgeries later, even as I lay in my hospital bed, with tubes up my nose, the burning question on the nurses mind was....."No?"....."Really?"
"Give me the God Damn Morphine"......

So, I'd like to end our little story with a simple thought: Julia Child, a voice of deep falsetto, while gargling with gravel, Julia Child would demonstrate how to flip an omelet and sometimes it would crumble and she would piece it back together, no tears no fuss, on to the Sherry....

My Point: I am the broken omelet that made Julia Roberts, no fuss, no muss, Pass the vodka!

Never Look Directly Into The Sun

2011-03-04T18:31:00.000-08:00

So, there I was in a Forever 21 dressing room, trying on tweed shorts. I had been told as a child, never look directly into the sun nor solar eclipses. We were told to shove our heads into cardboard boxes and be hypnotized with the little shadows. Unfortunately, there was no cardboard box available in the dressing-room,....thats right..... I did it. I looked at the sun... no boxes, no protective gear of any sort, just me and the mirror. My God, I knew the radiation might kill me then and there. This, I would have gladly accepted, had it not been for my 50 year old delusion that I was indeed....Forever 21.

A piece of advice: I presume that all department stores, including Sax 5th, Macys, etc, really want to sell you something. Why the down lighting? Why the near death experience? Why aren't we provided our own cardboard boxes like a day spa?

Nora Desmond seems to have it all under control. As for me, I did buy the shorts that day, stoically put on my Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses, raised my head high, bravely walked outside and grabbed the sun-block.

Withering Heights

2011-02-25T19:15:00.000-08:00

What a feeling!! Shouting "I Love You!!", from the rooftops, ahhh, those few moments of bliss when nothing can stand in your way. That is, until you discover and now find in last nights blur that you're sharing your deepest with a guy named Terry. Now running from said roof, in new high heels to death. Well, not so unlike our little tale of love. Could it be, when we're up there so high, there really is no forest for the trees or is it simply the lack of oxygen?

Love can be torturous and divine....but most of all, I think it was Terry's mullet that made me want to jump that day.

And speaking of Internet dating.....

A Defining Moment

2011-02-20T20:29:00.000-08:00

What is a muse? Webster's Dictionary says: Muse n.: Muses, Daughter's of Zeus and Mnenmosyne. Muse of history, poetry, lyric, tragedy, comedy, song, and dance.
Can a man be a muse? No...that would make him amusing. And so women, all over the states of.....well, our minds, must be.

According to the Oxford's 1953 Dictionary which reads as follows: Monologue: mon ol ogue, n. Drama, in which one person speaks by himself. Dramatic composition for a single performance. Long speech by one person. One who loves to hear himself talk. You could say that's where this blog begins....

Wikipedia says, Blog: n. v., is a blend of the term web log. In other words an on-line journal exposing all ones private thoughts to the WWW. and I don't mean Women With Whiskey.

Most blogs are interactive.....

Say,...Do you know where the light switch is?