The Book Review-- A Moveable Feast

A Moveable Feast
by
Ernest Hemingway

"If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast." Ernest Hemingway wrote these memorable words to a friend in the 1950s, and it is that quote about Paris being a moveable feast, presumably to be consumed wherever one ends up, that so aptly captures the spirit of this book. Rather than being a story, each chapter is a type of vignette about Hemingway's time spent in that venerable city during the 1920s with his wife and child. He befriends James Joyce, and Sylvia Beach, the proprietress of what would become the beloved Shakespeare and Co. bookshop. He gambles at the races, argues with Ford Madox Ford, drinks wine, acts as savior and confidante to F. Scott Fitzgerald... the list goes on and on. In retrospect, it is a life to be envied, romanticized here, with Hemingway enjoying friendships with many of that day's great luminaries.

I am not what would be considered a Hemingway fan. I've read a few of his books, and while I do enjoy reading stories about his life, such as Lillian Ross' Portrait of Hemingway (a short biography of Ernest which I highly recommend, especially to fans of the gentleman), I've never been able to get caught up in his stories themselves. I read A Farewell to Arms, which is wonderfully conceived and told, and yet end up feeling as if it doesn't elicit the proper emotions that one should feel for the characters. This book, to me, reads largely the same way. I am interested in his daily details, find Ernest's turn of phrase to be sublime, and yet leave feeling as if, well, I have no feelings. I am detached throughout, and as such, find it highly interesting in a biographical sort of way, but leave feeling as distant as ever.

I do recommend the book-- he writes so beautifully and sums things up in a way that is pure genius (such as his "moveable feast" quote). My only regret is that I want him to make me cry-- to make me feel sadness when he writes about falling in love with another woman that is not his wife. Instead, I sit back and observe, and then, turn a page and move on with life.

Welcome to La La Land

The Ritz-Carlton in Marina Del Rey

I arrived in Los Angeles last night after a bit of a delay in Philadelphia. I flew into John Wayne/Santa Ana which apparently has an 11:00pm curfew after which no flights are allowed to land. Because of our delay, we had been told that we wouldn't make our connecting flight, meaning I'd have to spend the night in Phoenix. When we arrived in Phoenix with 15 minutes until the departure of our connecting flight, my 27 co-passengers and I dashed for the gate. It was chaos trying to exit the plane, and at one point, another girl and I scooped up two children and ran madly through the airport as we assisted their mother in making the flight.

I did make it, after just a little bit of stress, and my host, Katie, picked me up, and we headed to her apartment in North Hollywood. This morning we went to her church, Reality LA, and afterwards headed to Marina del Rey to work as waitresses at the Ritz-Carlton. We were working pool side which afforded me ample views of, well, skimpily-clad women and hairy-chested men. It was my first true glimpse of LA, but was quite comical in how stereotypical it all was. Women wore heels and had fake boobs, deep tans, and bleached blonde hair. The men were cocksure and seemed flashy with their looks and their money.

I'm not really sure what to expect this next month. It's quite beautiful here and the weather is so nice. It also seems to be more about perception and illusion than New York. People walk around here like they're really special, and, as I've been forewarned, tell you what you want to hear rather than the truth. I'm not sure what direction this will all go, but hopefully I'll be able to find an agency and get some work

My new Poloroids

It would have made sense to post this with my last post but I didn't think of it until my friend Christina left a comment on my post. These, then, are my new Polaroids. Unlike the pictures on my comp card, these pictures are less then a week old and show what I look like currently. They're useful in that they show if I have gained or lost weight, how my skin is looking, and most notably in this instance, what my hair color and cut is. As you can see, I am currently moonlighting as a blonde.

My new Comp Card

I met with my agency last week to get a new composite card made-- this is my business card, what I hand out to potential clients so that they can remember me. I'm pretty happy with the new card. The cover is from a test shoot I did with Seth Sabal, and the pictures on the back are all from magazines I shot while working in Dubai (and, actually, the two full-length shots were taken in Amman, Jordan for U Magazine).

Miss September

While recently perusing the magazines at the drugstore, I couldn't help but notice that many of the September issues feature women with their arms akimbo. Now I find that a bit odd, and terribly unoriginal, and wonder what the meaning of all this is. September is traditionally the largest issue that comes out during the year (it's full of fall fashion. I always feel bad for the mail carrier in September-- have you ever seen the September issue of Vogue? It's at least two inches thick!), so perhaps the hands on hips scream out a strong, powerful image? Otherwise, it just means the girls didn't know what to do with their hands. In Modelingland, when a girl doesn't know what else to do, she throws her hands on her hips. It is a totally uninspired pose.

This was the week when...

Amidst hard drive crash scares on laptop (it was determined not to start), Olympic moments (Michael Phelps aside, I really got a kick out of watching rhythmic gymnastics and synchronized swimming), slow dial-up connections, and family time here in South Carolina, this week has just not been ideal for updating the blog.

I do have some ideas-- I'm going to do a summer-in-review post (heavy laden with photos) and a post of my latest sewing project (a vintage-inspired apron) and a look at the September magazine covers-- so keep your eyes peeled.

I fly out Friday for Los Angeles, so I'm sure there will be more about that and my adventures out there.  I'll keep you posted.

Away from my desk

I haven't been able to post these fast few days, as initially I was uninspired, and more recently I've been just plain busy.  I made some rather of note plans: I'm going to Los Angeles for the month of September.  It was an impromptu decision based on an opportunity arising (my best friend's sister needed someone to sublet her apartment) and the realization that I wouldn't likely have such a chance again.  My hope is that I shall be able to find a modeling agency while out there and procure a little work.  At the very least, I hope to catch up with some old friends, spend a little time at the beach soaking up those California rays, and rest on my laurels with out too much interruption (surprisingly to some, I do quite look forward to not knowing many people where I'm going.  I would love some "me" time-- and am thinking of getting a sewing machine when I get there so that I can sew in my new-found me time).

I spent a few days sorting the particulars out about LA, and then I turned around and came to New York City for a job.  I had a fitting on Friday, with a job on Tuesday, and, as always, it seems that every possible second is filled with trying to catch up with people.  Of course I do a miserable job, and inevitably leave knowing that I missed out on a few people.

This Wednesday, I will fly out early morning on US Airways to Augusta, Georgia (my birth place), where I will meet up with my parents who are currently in South Carolina.  Carolina is where I'm originally from and all of my family (with the exception of my immediate family) still live there.  I should already be there, but this job is keeping me here.

I can't write much today, although I am taking pictures to hopefully share in a future entry.  Tomorrow will be another full day, and then I work and fly out, so it shall most likely be a few days before I post again.

Michael Phelps is awesome!

Shortest blog post ever 'cause that's all I have to say. It's nice to watch someone who is really quite talented (or maybe he is just related to a fish) do their thing. And, it's nice to have an American we can be proud of as a means of bringing our oft fragmented country together. Go Michael-- you rock!