Today is the first day in a really long time I haven't been able to make myself work on the book. I was up most of the night with a sinus headache/migraine. So today I feel weak as a kitten, strangely blank and mellow. I'm into the final last real dart to the finish of this other draft (I'm sure there will be at least 3 or 4 more), but where I have to really get fired up and be energized and full of myself and these women, and I cannot. I cannot today. So I am watching episodes of Drop Dead Diva online, only because it is a show I think is passable and I haven't watched it. And I seem to have watched everything lately. My mind has become colonized by TV while working on this book project. But now everything has had its season finale, so I won't have anything to watch, no screens soon to hide behind.
When in New York before the Prose Event I am wandering around downtown with John, feeling stressed, frazzled, rained-on, and extremely frumpy (as I have as of late, I get like this whenever I'm deep inside of a book project, mostly I think because I stop exercising and leaving the house). I went to Bloomingdales on Broadway and had my make-up done by the NARS makeup artist. God, I miss really capable makeup artists. It reminds me of when I lived in London, and I would go to the NARS counter at Liberty and buy everything, storing in my head the experience for Green Girl. I just bought the lipgloss but my makeup artist Nikki wrote everything she used on me down and she just emailed me to say thanks. I know this is a business tactic, but it reminds me of what I love about makeup counters - these interactions of affirmation, of recognition, that have at times bumped me up when I've felt frumpy or down. I know of course the problematics of such an exchange, and the hole created in our self-confidence for us to desire this outside recognition. But what can I say? It brings me intense pleasure.
I didn't realize the new Woody Allen movie involved timetravel to Paris in the 20s and featured Scott and Zelda as characters. All these references to the Fitzes lately - on the season finale of Gossip Girl, Serena - already written as a sort of Fitzgerald golden girl/muse to Dan's writer hero - is in California and walks by a boy reading The Beautiful and the Damned. Turns out he's an assistant to the filmmaker David O. Russell, making a totally weird cameo here, who's going to turn it into a film. I love that book Serena says in her sort of mumbly goddess way. I relate to it more than I should.
I just want to point to that and make that my book. Somehow.