beulahbondo's Diaryland Diary
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Goodbye, and never darken my towels again
Some Sundays I don't talk to anyone all day long, except maybe to order a coffee or a bagel. Yesterday, though, Donna Puma hosted the sumptuous brunch and bridal shower for the Towering Alta and her nearly as towering mama (all of 4 foot 10, I think she is). It was glorious! The table, covered with a tablecloth of embroidered scattered buttercups. The white frosted cake piled with berries. A good six or seven salads made by Donna Puma's talented roommate, the sexy Monsieur Debauche. Coffee, champagne. A little roasted chicken with scallion tailfeathers coming out its heinie. (Heinie: crossword word from Sunday)
The guests, all sexy female arts educators. All refreshingly uncompetitive. Has anyone noticed how in this crappy economy, people are extra-aggressive about sussing out who might be able to get them work?
Then conjunctivitis developed, and I probably spread it all over Donna Puma's leopard towels. I probably sprayed some on the coffee cups, too. Mea culpa! Now I've got the sore eye and it feels too big for the socket.
Ya know, I'm not a lesley-ann, but some days I feel a great deal of lust for Gertrude Stein. I really do. I think she was gorgeous. And listen to this:
"There are four men so far in American letters who hve essential intelligence. They are Fenimore Cooper, William Dean Howells, Mark Twain and Sherwood Anderson. They do not reflect life or describe life or embroider life or photograph life, they express life and to express life takes essential intelligence. Whether to express life is the most interesting thing to do or the most important thing to do I do not know, but I do know that it is the most permanent thing to do."
(Italics added.)
Don't you know she would have had an amazing blog?
9:49 a.m. - 2003-06-02
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