Monday, July 28, 2003

Baby Carrots:



Monday: It's a new week, a new day, a new morning and afternoon, a new chance to do all the things I want to do. Thank you Life for the chance to be alive and figure out how to do all the things i want to do. Figuring out how to do them all is the hardest part, for me.



Like today: I need to write a draft of a 2,000-word piece I've been putting off for five months.



I need to work out or go to yoga.



I need to eat.



Plus a whole lot more.



I have a couch now in my new place and it's so pretty I'm actually afraid to sit on it.



On Friday night, Axel and I listened to a shitload of new cds i got in the mail, and the one we both liked best was by Holly Golightly, the English chick Jack White was in love with before he got in love with Renee Zellweger (which is still something I'm sort of in denial about).



He had a very sexy and pretty and talented rock 'n' roll girlfriend already, Marcie from the Von Bondies and the Slumber Party. She was the sort of girl who's just sooooo much cooler than me that I can't even attempt to emulate her. (Some girls are role models because they're sort of kindred souls--for me, that would be Drew Barrymore, Emmanuelle, Hillary et al.) But this girl was more of an ice-queen sort, and that's just not something I'm capable of, much as I admire it in others.



Anyway, I feel really weird now about Jack, even weirder than before. I'm sure you've heard how he was driving a Porsche with Renee Zellweger in Detroit and he crashed and fractured his left index finger. It must have been horrifying to him: It was a compound fracture (ew!).



Anyway, I wonder now if the White Stripes' rise to fame and glory, wealth, MTV, V2 and movie star GFs wasn't perhaps, after all, a gravitation toward the values of hair metal, hip-hop, and all the other stuff Jack White claims to hate.



I don't know: I am wondering.



I am always confused when I meet celebrities who act all downhome just-folks, as if they don't care about fame and money, yet just happen to end up dating supermodels or movie stars.



I thought Marcie was cool. I thought Meg was cool. Holly Golightly is cool. I like her record, "She Is None Other," a lot. It's genuinely inspiring to me as a chick, because I can't find too many chick songwriters who turn me on.



Maybe after he got famous he freaked out and couldn't handle the task of realigning his identity in the world or something. Maybe he needed someone older and more famous to help him figure it out.



Or maybe it just made him feel real cool when she sat next to him in the Porsche.



My dog can't stop eating baby carrots. I've just fed him 10 and he shows no sign of slowing down. Veggies are his passion. His idea of big juicy bone is a big old broccoli stalk. His idea of steak is a chunk of cheese. And his idea of orgasms is a bowl of plain yogurt.



love,

kate



No comments: