I’m honestly thankful for those moments wherein someone hails me and goes “Natalia! Camille Paglia’s written some bullshit again somewhere!” – because it keeps me blogging. Due to various professional and personal commitments, I don’t blog nearly as much as I used to. Sadpants, etc.
Then, Camille Paglia writes a piece on which some editor cleverly slaps the phrase “the death of sex” (forgetting the standard “ZOMG!!!1!!!ELEVENTY!!!” we of Generation Gaga have been fond of), and it’s game on again. Continue reading →
The ice outside looks like whale blubber. Nobody is cleaning it up, because that’s something that people in civilized countries do, and it’s not like we can have anyone forgetting where it is they live. It would be vastly unpatriotic, etc. I don’t have any ambitions to prevent myself from falling again, I just hope I’ll avoid breaking any bones this winter. I have written, and rewritten, a play that, much like Paula from “40 Year Old Virgin,” haunts my dreams. I have murdered many shots. I need a break, you guys. And so do you. Continue reading →
What’s going on here is that my childhood fantasy is melding with my childhood nightmare. I knew that one of these days, someone, somewhere would seize upon my old obsession with crystal chandeliers than hung in the otherwise drab living rooms of the great aunts, and explode my brain with it. And that I would love every second.
Not really, no. This is so delightfully creepy. I love it when she’s when she’s wearing something that resembles a chandelier popular with Soviet grandmas. And the ending is awesome, so you have to watch the entire thing. Her being auctioned off kinda makes me think of the human trafficking angle. And then, boom.
I love women who are sexy and weird. They make life more interesting.