Old rich people, gay people, crazy people, Jewish people, all in a 50's time warp, and about 130 degrees from May-September...It’s a resort, basically, with meth-lab fringes (toward which I, for one, tend)... There are restaurants here, Billy Reed’s for one, that look like Perry Como could be sitting in the adjacent red pleather banquette. Chicken pot pie, stuffed avocado, Cobb salad. "Cocktails."
People have no sense of time, schedule, or urgency, which is very unsettling, though in a somewhat (though only somewhat) good way after L.A.. Today, tomorrow; , , whatever. Old guys cruising down
I had big plans for plunging headlong into my next writing project. What I’ve done instead is wound a whole ton of skeins of yarn into balls. My friend Christine, whose house I'm watching, left me an entire bag of expensive yarn, including 27 skeins of fine string-like yarn in lush colors of acid green, mauve, robin’s egg blue, and I am just not going to be able to rest, apparently, until I have rolled every last one of them into balls (otherwise the stuff gets hopelessly tangled when you try to knit).
Though a single ball can take half an hour (and that’s if I don’t screw up, the odds of which are about 70/30), I can’t describe how satisfying I find this. You position the skein around the outside of your knees, and if you let the strands get at all slack you’re in major trouble because yarn has a will, a brain, and a mischievous streak. I could just sit there indefinitely, winding, winding, especially when combined with watching, say, a Sam Fuller film. Last night I watched The Naked Kiss—that is one weird film.
I did also knit an entire…well, actually, I seem to have devised a new article of clothing. A kind of combo scarf/cape with huge flared ends, in this case of hot pink mohair with black kitten-hair fringe, that as the thing got longer and weirder, started to scare even me. Which it turns out I can however drape around my neck, back, shoulder, or just hang down in front thereby giving an insane, Whatever-Happened-to-Baby-Jane effect.
|this should come in handy during a typical 85-degree-afternoon...|
I'm actually quite proud of myself. My garment contains only 8 or 10 scattered mysterious holes, and while knitting, I discovered Hammer Film Productions (Gothic British black and white horror flicks from the 60's).
The double feature I watched consisted of Never Take Candy from a Stranger (elderly pervert/pedophile from the town's richest family molests two young girls, and These Are the Damned, "a socially conscious sci-fi chiller about young victims of radiation exposure" in which "a couple stumbles upon a quarantined group of mysterious children."
In an undersea cave, fyi.
Extreme closeups that make even normal people look bathed in greasy sweat and psychotic: who could resist?