1) "There's nothing to read around here."

Which is simply a reprise of

2) "I don't have anything to wear."

Which is a way of reconceptualizing

3) "There's nothing to do-o-o-o-o."

Which I am a bit old for.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 09:04 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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"What kind of person chases a bowl of Cheerios with a dry martini?"

I'll give you one guess.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 09:56 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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. . . that this site is not banned in China. Which of course gives me something to aspire to.

In other news, I've become awfully interested in making money. Actually, I'm doing so. I just don't have it yet, due to the vagaries of the billing cycle.

According to my calculations, I could live perfectly decently on 20 hours a week, if I billed at my top rate.

Something to be said for working for larger entities, at that.

Another copyeditor told me recently that the world had lost "all interest in perfection." It's gone beyond that: the world appears—to the average English major, at least—to have lost all interest in excellence. At least, most smaller magazines would rather put up with typos, stylistic errors and prose that simply doesn't make sense, when the alternative is paying someone a decent amount of money to check it over.

So I continue to work on my crime books, and I continue to learn book-keeping. For knowledge is rarely a liability in this world.

Even in China.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 12:17 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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Yeah. That's Hog Beatty's term for the bar and lounge at Casa del Mar, where he used to go with his ex-girlfriend JG a few years ago. I'm not so sure about that: sure, it's comfortable place. But it does have that old-hotel grandeur. It's a thrilling place to be. (Many of you know it as the place Larry David refused to take his television wife on an old episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm.)

I took my mother there last night in honor of (1) her 71st birthday this coming Friday, and (2) the fact that there is no Boston Legal soundtrack on the market.

I thought if we went to listen to Billy Valentine live, it would be the next best thing. But it was better—so much better. For one thing, I discovered that the slice of the music pie that represents the spot where my mother's and my taste meet is much larger than I'd thought. I know she likes classical music—but rarely the stuff I listen to (I'm all Bach, Beethoven and tone poems by, among others, Saint Saens). And I knew she liked jazz, and music with bitchin' vocals, including well-executed gospel music. But there is a lot of bluesy stuff out there, a vast range where the Kay-Joy tastes meet. Valentine even sang Sinatra, and my mother and I both dug it: I'd never pictured her as a Sinatra fan. Not in the least.

Finally, I got to meet Tonio K, in the flesh. Wait—that link has loud music on it, so be ready. Or try this one.

I was also surprised by how incredible the Stuart Elster Trio were, all on their own, while Billy was drinking wine with his friends and fans. There is something fundamentally pure and fine in listening to a pianist, a bassist, and a drummer (working mostly with brushes, natch). They did amazing work. This was not piano-lounge mood music. Nope. One of the cocktail waitresses couldn't help swinging her hips as she went from table to table.

And there was one more discovery: the siren singer Heather Loren, who performed one number: a great rendition of the Peggy Lee version of "Fever." (The Wikipedia entry lists all the people who have ever performed the song, and now I'm going crazy trying to figure out from whom I first heard it. I'm not even sure I know if it was a man or a woman.)

Posted by: Attila Girl at 08:54 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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