September 2004 Archives

The advance reader copies of my father's book came in the mail today. They're in desperate need of a final edit, but here they are... formatted, bound... actual books. The book is done, done, done.

Kind of.

In other news, my father will be on The Tony Danza show on October 18th.

People Magazine's "Your Diet" spinoff hits the newstand on Monday. There's a full story on the family. (I posted sample pictures from the photo shoot... us walking down the street / standing around in the kitchen.)

Another plane ticket... I'm back in Florida on the 11th. Twelve days and then I have to return for filming of the show's second season. For now I'm back to biding time. What will I do with myself? Sims 2?

Elise and I had an "aww"ing crowd in the airport this afternoon.

Earlier this year I saw a documentary on the New York subway system. It was fascinating. But it was one of the most mundane moments of the show that put a lump in my throat.

I think I've written about this before.

The young woman--a writer--who came to New York to get herself out there, to BE a writer. Nothing had worked out. She couldn't pay her rent. She was desperate. So she sold Xerox's of her short stories in the subway, a sign beside her to explain. Explain that she was a struggling writer and she needed help. I wanted to buy this woman's stories. Pay double the price. (A dollar each.) Help her. She was so honestly desperate that that must've bled over to the stories. She was probably a damn good writer. Problem is... you can't sell anything in the subway system. The police had to remove her. She crossed the price out and asked for donations, but it was too late.

Elise is leaving Connecticut tomorrow. So you know... she was here from the 2nd to the 8th and then the 13th until tomorrow the 30th.

So you know... I'm already scrambling for a plane ticket down to Florida. It's just that--open ended, up in the air, I'll see you soon goodbyes are terrible. A flight confirmation in my pocket would give us a number. I'll see you in this many days. If there were enough money on my credit card!

Last week we walked through Central Park, past all the portrait artists and performance artists and palm readers and all of that. I said, "Anybody can make money in New York."

Then I thought about that woman in the subway.

Then I thought about taking the train into the city, a ream of my Ribcage stories in a backpack. A packed lunch. A hopeless romantic sign. "STRUGGLING WRITER - DONATIONS FOR STORIES - PLEASE HELP ME GET TO MY GIRLFRIEND."

The police can't kick me out of Central Park can they? Besides... what have I got to lose?

Yes Natasha, there is still love.

Sometimes I write a story and it's only three sentences long and I think that I'm a genius like I wanted to be when I was younger. Then I think, three sentences isn't a story... idiot. Then I spend an hour convincing myself that I'm that genius, not that idiot.

Then I see that there are five spiders in the kitchen. Big ones. Bigger than usual.

Update: The three sentence story has been expanded. The debate has ended.

I'm no idiot.

Yesterday we saw sea lions, penguins, puffins, colobus monkeys, bats, polar bears, river otters and a very lazy red panda.

Red pandas look like oversized red raccoons that lumber around like house cats in slow motion.

We were in the city... the Central Park Zoo. We nearly accidentally stumbled into it. We were looking for a movie theatre.

Though the zoo's animals are pretty much limited to those I just mentioned, there's a magical quality to seeing sea lions gliding through their tank, New York's skyline above them.

This week's story is the first of these shorts I ever finished. Probably more than a year ago now.

Saturday... we're supposed to be going to dinner in the city with the Calorie Commando. He's in town filming his second season. He's on so much in my house by default because his show comes on right after my father's and my father's show is always on... He's on so much that he now holds some sort of celebrity to me and so this dinner should be quite interesting.

My diet book is being shopped this week. More specifically, my father's literary agent is presenting it to a major publisher... the publisher having already asked to see it.

So basically my head is spinning.

I need to retool what I have. Rework and rewrite and edit and subtract, add... not to mention it's not hip enough. After the introduction anyway. Not nearly clever enough for my tastes. You should choke on all the smarm. That's what will make me lovable. I need to retool.

I never thought to ask for title suggestions... thanks for the comment Yaritza. I think I'll set something up on the site just for that. Custom stories. I mean, I have to latch onto something to begin a story in the first place... why not a title?

Random note:

The Sims 2. Oh my god. It will eat your life. I haven't even tried to play it... Elise has been super glued, tied--double knot--connected at the hip and all of that. Since yesterday anyway. She'll surely recover.

I've been in a bubble.

Elise and I spent twenty minutes googling and learning and tieing my tie.

We're going into New York. She's never been.

We're escaping the Woman's Day Magazine crew that's overrun my house. Half a dozen of them. Ten hours of photos. They don't need me.

New York does.

I love to tweak the site. It's digital busy-work and it's soothing. Stress relieving. Getting something accomplished just by clicking. Today I prettied up the archive page.

Today, I should really write three more stories to have them on hand. Elise is flying back up here Monday now--her flight bumped earlier due to Ivan--Elise is coming back up and she'll be here through three Wednesdays.

I'll be distracted. I'll have to get on them right now.

And the diet book... I want to put something together this weekend. Finish the current chapter. Rewrite what I have. Write an outline. Come up with a working title. I need a nice and neat package to send to my father's agent and I need it soon.

Send me your title suggestions! I'm blanking on one.

There's a memoir that was just released titled, Another Bullshit Night in Suck City. Such a title! I'm envious! I have to be more creative. I have to just let loose.

Random robot news: Now there's a spider-like robot that is so light it can walk on water. Here's the scoop.

Scientists are working on a robot that inhales flies to power itself. This will allow it to sustain itself in inhospitable areas indefinitely. It's fuel cell breaks the flies down to sugar, which then burns into energy.

A robot that eats!

Apparently it will have to attract the flies with excrement and sewage. So, also... a robot that stinks!

Earlier, Elise and I ran through the rain and into JFK. The airport. She had to catch her flight home. Her third flight home.

Frances' early hype got Elise out of Florida and here with me.

Frances' slow-going attitude--pension for hovering over Florida--cancelled her Monday morning flight back.

Frances rained on New England like New England has never known today.

Today was epic. Today was a flooded out bumper to bumper disaster and all we could do was laugh. As we sat in traffic for four hours. As we drove south beside the barricaded northern lanes of the Hutchinson Parkway... the northern lanes filled--flooded--to the top of these barricades, five feet deep, as tall as a car. Any second the wall could break apart and wash us off the road.

As Elise missed her newly rescheduled flight by more than two hours.

So I should probably thank the hurricane for all that it's done for her and I. For grounding her twice over... keeping her here longer and longer. For bringing her here in the first place.

The airline--Song--had to be so damn helpful and get her on the next flight this afternoon, no trouble at all. And so our good bad luck ran out and she actually had to get on a plane. We became one of those disgusting airline couples. The ones that make you want to puke because it's so damn beautiful.

That said, it's Wednesday again, so the site is updated. They can't all be happy. They can't all be "Emily stories."

My father takes these hurricanes seriously. As everyone should. My father takes these hurricanes seriously, and we now live in Connecticut.

He woke me up the other day, suggesting I fly Elise out of Orlando. Of course I wanted to. Of course it was unlikely. Getting a plane ticket on one day's notice, her work schedule... the fact that she already has a planet ticket and the time off work to come up here for two weeks on the sixteenth.

But there would be peace of mind in getting her out of there... there would be an excuse to see her again!

So I threw the idea out to her. Just to see what she'd say.

Five hours later she was on a plane.

Note: It IS possible to buy a decently priced plane ticket five hours before the plane's departure, out of Orlando the day before the entire state of Florida is ecompassed by a monolithic weather system.

Note: It takes well over an hour and many, many, many frustrated visits and customer service calls to all of the internet's horrible travel matrixes (priceline, orbitz, travelocity, hotwire, expedia) to figure that out.

There's something in the Stella genes that gives us the super amazing ability to make things happen.

So it's Wednesday. So there is a new story up on the site. It's a bit strange.

I wanted to write about making the best of a bad situation but the story had a mind of it's own and it pleasantly surprised me. Anyway... enjoy!