Two of everything

A new friend came over to my apartment after I gave her a heads up that my apartment is dullsville. She walked in, observed my twinkly blue lights, drawings piled high on my table and photos of my friends on the wall and told me she didn’t think my apartment was boring at all. She gave me some tips on moving my furniture so my couches and chairs aren’t jammed in the corner. She advised me to wrap twisty ties around my TV cords so they don’t look so chaotic and throw colorful scarves over everything to brighten the mood. 

She also said I might want to think about doing something with my spare room, which is empty except for a suitcase.

Also, she said if I were interested in having a boyfriend, my apartment didn’t exactly say welcome. Mine wasn’t the sort of living space, she said, that would make me feel open about being in a relationship. The pictures of my friends on the walls gave the impression of someone who likes to be independent and admires other independent people. Really, I’m just interested in portraits and unique characters for writing and drawing purposes.

We went into my bedroom and she said, “I can tell which side of the bed you sleep on.” It was the side that wasn’t occupied by clothes and books. If I wanted to welcome the idea of having a boyfriend, I might want to start making the whole bed hospitable and buying another lamp to put on the other bedside table. I don’t think I’m going to buy a lamp and clear off the bed for my phantom boyfriend, but it’s an interesting idea.

My friend looked at my drawings, which often feature couples, and she told me they would be great to put up on the walls. Also, I might want to get into the habit of buying two of everything: two candles, two lamps, two vases, whatever, and put them side by side. I immediately thought of the couple in the French movie Delicatessen: a weird and wonderful movie. The female character’s vision is so bad and she’s so clumsy, she buys two of everything because she expects to break one of everything in her home. She attracts a retired circus performer who plays the saw to accompany her cello music. I guess that “buy two of everything” trick worked for her.

Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown

I started a cleanse that forbids consumption of meat, fish, dairy, caffeine and sugar.

Not only has my food gotten more colorful as a result of my new eating regimen, but so have the images in my mind after watching Pedro Almodovar’s “Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown.” During my Fellini craze, I fantasized in vain about having a part in one of Fellini’s movies, but realizing the impossibility of this, I’ve progressed to wanting to be in a living director’s movies, namely Almodovar. I like the strong female characters in his films, the vibrant colors, the humanity and the humor. Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown is vastly different from Talk to Her, Bad Education and Volver, the other films of his that I’ve seen. I suppose all of them have his signature splashes of color, but “Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown” is a comedy both clever and slapstick. I think I laughed the hardest at the scenes involving the gregarious taxi driver who equipped his taxi to meet his passengers’ every need.

I could see some influence from Fellini and Hitchcock, but “Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown” was still like nothing I have ever seen. My guy friend who watched it with me also loved it. I may be depriving myself of coffee and chocolate these days, but good movies should always be in ample supply.

After watching the movie, I played with my camera and asked my guy friend if he ever felt like filming anything. He said all the time, but most people don’t like to be filmed. I told him that I like to be filmed, but I can’t act. My friend informed me that the best directors can get a good performance out of anyone. Hmmmmmm. If that’s true, maybe a part in an Almodovar film isn’t entirely implausible.