It seems that in order to start writing, I have to exhaust everything on TV and eat all the food in the house. To get to that Carrie Bradshaw place of introspection at my computer, I have to have nothing else to do. 10 years ago, I had to have no one else to do as well, but now I can write without sating that appetite. I’m looking for something more meaningful now, not so interested in sleeping around anymore and it’s, thankfully, one less distraction in trying to do what I really want to do. Last week, at Tivo’s end, I was still not ready to start writing, and I happened upon the Quentin Crisp later-years biography, An Englishman In New York, on Logo On Demand. I think I’ve always been somewhat vaguely aware of Quentin Crisp, although I think I may have confused him with Oscar Wilde.
I started watching The View, or at least recording it every day for Hot Topics and the occasional must-see interview or diva performance, when Rosie O’Donnell took over for Meredith Vieira a couple of years ago. The show itself became very must-see as the discussions grew increasingly heated, particularly in the tension between the ultra liberal O’Donnell and the acutely conservative Elisabeth Hasselbeck. There was something very democratic and America-as-it-should be to see a right-wing voice in a left-leaning forum.
I saw Joan Rivers at the Beechman the other night. It was exciting to finally see her perform live after years of enjoying her. Just as at the beginning of her career, Joan always scores big saying the things that we think, but which would be uncouth to say. She had the audience in stitches the other night ranting about ugly babies. Sometimes, her imagination dazzles, coming up with things we’d never even consider, but whose absurdity is hilarious. She had a famous bit years ago about Queen Elizabeth’s purse. What did she carry in it, the keys to Buckingham Palace?