The Darkness

Almost October. Autumn is only ever one thing for me: Eastern Massachusetts. Aspirational like book-shopping and Commuter Rails and being teen*aged, dismal like exams and infirmaries and being teen*aged. I'm drawn in. Even as anxieties up and over an approaching winter mount, I crave wind rain and grey grey grey. I've been positively wishing away the sun (a thing I know I'll soon regret). The first Darkness has taken hold, and I am trying to conjure it fuller (heady, concussively), though it will surely expand on its own, suffocate us all until a trip to the Islands is the ONLY KIND OF FIX (thank G-d for New Year).

Though, post Yom Kippur, I'd imagined something like this. Today, I got my nails painted thus. German vamp.

Grand Touring

Am I behind los tiempos? I've just now discovered Falco. I am also reading a book about Celine Dion that makes much mention of the Eurovision Pop Contest, and methinks it is time for a new recurring musical segment dedicated to the Old West putting in their poptastic oar . . . let's go grand touring.

Rolf's French-Bavarian Brasserie

A bit more from my Tuesday Gawker browse:

"The Waverly Inn was crawling with Condé Nast insiders earlier tonight, some of whom had been waiting as long as 20 years for the appetizer: The hot, delicious rumor that Si Newhouse was meeting in Paris with Carine Roitfeld to work out the final details of the French Vogue editor's move to New York, where she is expected to take over flagship Vogue from Anna Wintour immediately after New Year's. It did not go unnoticed when Condé Nast overlord Newhouse departed early for his annual three-week December vacation in Vienna; it turns out he needed time for his meeting with uptight Wintour's chic Parisian counterpart."

I'm pretty non-plussed about the whole tiresome/vile speculation about "good ole' pater" Si replacing a powerful woman with another younger and (gasp!) Gaulish powerful woman. It makes these accomplished persons sound like bitchy pawns, not to mention, thinly veiled caricatures from a certain piece of chick-lit disaster turned criminally watchable cinema. But also--Si Newhouse spends three weeks of the year in Vienna?!!

Folk Art (I mean, Public Art?) for Monday (On the Autobahn-bahn-bahn)