hello sunday.

darlings

how lovely!

it’s       s u n d a y  m o  r  n  i n  g.

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our friends at the Velvet Underground (we adore velvet) sang it best:

oh.

really?

of course.

*sighs*

if you cannot see that Transmission in your territory either ask mr. google for “Velvet Underground” and “sunday morning” or, knowing you (*winktocamera4*), go to your Vinyl Turntable and find the original album – b l i s s.

you know the best things about sundays?

often they come after a night of Reflection and repose and perhaps talking to someone very kind on the beach before sunset and Going Over Things that have happened and getting some excellent guidance (the past is just a story – but sometimes it’s a very sad one) and then laughing at the points in a Tale when one feels a Tiny bit of despair and is reminded (gently) that everything is useful. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAor as the (very much missed) Ms. Nora Ephron’s mother said: “it’s all material.”

which Can be a very dark way of looking at things. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAand in another way, rather Liberating.

yes we’re being noticeably Opaque. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

sometimes that is Just for the best, love.

but we *did* take pictures.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAwe always take pictures.

and look around to gather tiny details for future novels like sea glass in the sand.

nothing is wasted.

everything is recorded. 
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and there are always thank you letters to send out to say how much one admired someone’s directorial debut where they told their own (rather sad) Tale and made it into something much better than it could possibly have been to live through.

which is sort of the point.

can’t waste a good tale.

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not when it might help other people.

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otherwise it was all for naught.

and that’s Truly Tragic, darlings.

*giggling*

exit left (we’re LATE!)

 

 

 

 

almost autumn.

darlings

we had a day of autumn here yesterday!

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it was most exciting.

not an Entire Day, actually – because it was over by lunchtime, of course, when the sun finally came out.

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but enough fruit-falling-feeling to herald a moment of Philip Larkin which we found here. 

And now the leaves suddenly lose strength.
Decaying towers stand still, lurid, lanes-long,
And seen from landing windows, or the length
Of gardens, rubricate afternoons. New strong
Rain-bearing night-winds come: then
Leaves chase warm buses, speckle statued air,
Pile up in corners, fetch out vague broomed men
Through mists at morning.

And no matter where goes down,
The sallow lapsing drift in fields
Or squares behind hoardings, all men hesitate
Separately, always, seeing another year gone –
Frockcoated gentleman, farmer at his gate,
Villein with mattock, soldiers on their shields,
All silent, watching the winter coming on.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAand, quite naturally, a reflective Feeling gives rise to a little Keats:

Ode To Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimmed their clammy cell.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir, the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

John Keats

and again, this morning, it was a slightly chilly start to the day and rather lovely as a consequence of waking early and spending a few moments just looking out of the window.

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before getting down to work.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAwhat’s the weather doing in your part of the world?

we note from the world-of-instagram that the sun is already faint over Berlin (both the metaphorical place that is forever Berlin and there where it really lives with its own trains and subways and skyline).

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as we mourn the passing of Mr. Lou Reed who passed through his own autumn and reached the winter of his life too, too s o o n.

sandy toes, surfers, seagulls and mellow yellow-ness.

darlings

a lovely day yesterday – all our tasks and meetings and then a delicious supper occasion took us to the Beach – sandy toes and surfers and the fragrance of salty air and the squeal of seagulls and mellow yellowness at the sunset sunk into the night behind vintage greek island lace

do you know the Donovan song? the pace of life down at the beach communities in southern california is very-mellow-yellow (sometimes).

Screen shot 2013-04-05 at 6.41.13 AM OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAthere were even a few mystical-moments (there are always a Few down by the beach you see) which made it an extra special and strangely comforting day.

magic is always a nice surprise, non?

good morning from the hamptons!

Well.

It is Lovely here.

Slept a long dreamless deep sleep lulled by the enveloping silence and salt kissed air.

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Under stripey luscious beachy soft linens. 

And awoke to find ourselves in a wooded grove with the early morning sun starting to dance between the tall branches.

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Time to find the coffee and wait for the house to wake up.

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very happy to be here.

Thank you, dear ones for inviting us :)

Wait!!!

Just realized why this all feels reminiscent of a movie (come in, you knew That was coming…..this is teamgloria, love).

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Diane Keaton’s place. right?

This just in!

It could be Yours for august 2013: imagine……..

well, hello, los angeles ;) looking good………

so happy.

to be BACK – in Los Angeles.

and at shutters on the beach for a light taco plate (corn, of course) after a (very) fast (surprisingly empty 405 and 10) drive in the chevy malibu (love that) silver rental with donna summer on the radio

this place is such a cliche. In the Best Possible Taste (that was for those lovely types who remember Kenny Everett)

more, later (yes please)

santa monica sunsets and planning post-surgery houseguests.

firstly – here’s the sunset over santa monica beach this evening – delicious, right?

and we had a lovely surprise – we were walking up the beach after taking the sunset photographs and returned a call to a friend who said they would come to NYC and “hang with us” for a couple of days while we – you know – find it hard to move our head and need some cheering up post-september 9th surgery.

bring on the pee wee herman DVDs and lots of tea!

actually, we’re getting rather scared as the day approaches…….

but hey, another full day and a half of our vacation/hols, so focusing on the joy ahead (especially the cover shoot for george’s second novel! hell, yes, we’ll be doing some backlot type shots – but checking with george first to see what we can share with you..)

good night, darlings. sleep soundly.