Psst!, Pictures, and Peggy Lee

Whenever I'm bored, say, in a waiting room or something, I like to make up new names for Sally Field movies-- all revolving around Gidget. I'm saying this knowing how incredibly silly it sounds, but it's one of my more unassuming idiosyncrasies, so I thought I'd share.

Examples? Sure. Well, Norma Rae becomes "Gidget Fights the Man." Sybil turns into "Gidget Gets Multiple Personality Disorder" (among other more unsavory things), and --my personal favorite-- Absence of Malice becomes "Gidget Hooks Up with Paul Newman." Yeah okay, say what you will, but it makes me plenty happy. :)

For some reason I've had "My Name is Tallulah" stuck in my head all day. And in that odd, adenoidal voice they used to dub Jodie Foster. Odd, but not entirely unpleasant.

Speaking of Ms. Foster (and who isn't?), I read a while back that she's to direct, produce, and star in a biopic about Leni Riefenstahl. How grand is that? I mean, as far as Nazi filmmakers go, Leni was the tops-- who else are ya gonna choose? Disregarding Leni's lovefests with Hitler (now that would make a good title), her work's actually not bad at all. Junta from The Blue Light is quite possibly my hero.

And I can actually picture Jodie Foster as Leni. They both have a sort of falcon look going for 'em. Beaky, some might say. In a good way, of course. Which is not the case with Anne Hathaway and Judy Garland. Bad casting if you ask me. Cast a Panabaker (or two), if you ask me. And maybe throw in Elizabeth Perkins or Tammy Blanchard and have them dubbed, if you ask me. But did anybody ask me? Did I get a midnight call from Harvey Weinstein saying, "Juliette, oh Juliette-- I need you now." No, I certainly did not. Ah well, I'll still be standing in line for tickets. Because that's just who I am. Ho hum.

Instead of doing a hat of the day, it's gonna be Peggy Lee-- person of the day. Aside from having a marvelous singing voice (I've had "Mr. Wonderful" on repeat for hours), Peggy Lee was also a gifted actress and songwriter. Duke Ellington once said, "If I'm the Duke, then Peggy's the Queen." Plus, she was the voice of the Siamese cats in Lady in the Tramp. It doesn't get any cooler than that.

Peggy with her first husband Dave Barbour.

Scratch that earlier statement-- this is the hat of the day. And these are the gloves of the day, too. :)

Musings, vol. I

Just some jumbled thoughts coupled with pictures I found interesting. I apologize in advance for using personal pronouns entirely too much and for being a dreadful bore in general.

It's terribly windy out tonight. Wind always makes me feel as if I'm going out of my mind. Coupled with the word-amnesia (shucks-- there’s a word for that but I can never remember what...oh, the irony) and recent insomnia makes for one tired and cluttered Juliette.

Grace Kelly, on set of something...The Country Girl?

Oh, I forgot to tell you about the brilliant idea I had. Actually, I suppose I forgot to tell myself. Last night at, oh, I’d say six or so (that’s a.m., dear), I awoke with a marvelous idea. I was going to write it down, when suddenly my subconscious (curse it forever) told my conscious self that I had already done so. My conscious self doubted this for a bit, then finally relented and went to sleep. Which turned out poorly, as now I’m unable to recall even a bit of it. So I beg of you subconscious-- if you know the whereabouts of this idea...by all means, let me know.

Hitch and actress Anny Ondra

Emma Brockes can be quite the little philosopher when she puts her mind to it...

“The difference between an interest and a passion is that an interest works on you from the outside in, whereas a passion works the other way around-- from the inside out. This is why people see their passions reflected in every surface, every circumstance.”

Lovely little quote, huh? I thought so.


Golly I hope this game still exists...

I’ve never much liked DVD commentaries by the director. It seems redundant. Isn’t the film supposed to be their commentary-- their statement on or about a situation? Some commentaries are enjoyable, though. Liza’s on The Band Wagon, for instance. That one was swell, but then again perhaps I’m biased. A little. A lot.

All day long I’ve had “In My Merry Oldsmobile” stuck in my head. Not that I mind.

Greta Garbo posing with the USC track team in 1926.

I think I shall begin writing letters. Not here, I mean, but to people on "the outside," aka real life. I was reading some of Flannery O'Connor's letters and noticed that she too writes a lot. An awful lot. A heck of a lot. By "a lot," I mean frequently, you know? I've always thought it was cool in biographical films when they'll have someone read the letters that particular person wrote to another. Just the feeling that you mattered enough to someone else that they thought to save your writing. Pretty neat, huh?

Young Bette Davis Eyes.

I can be a very stupid person, really. But I've gotten to know myself well enough to laugh it off. Like, I know I go through phases (should be pretty clear right now as I gaze at my "Barbra shelf"...ack) and I can laugh at that. I'm a flake too, but I don't much mind that. I'm distant and many times prefer to be alone. I'm no recluse, but I could happily be a cloistered nun...ah, scratch that, I love my family too much. I'm not neurotic, and have gotten over the time of finding neuroses particularly glamourous. Mainly. I'd still kill for a case of DID (kidding...ish), but otherwise it's better. When I fear something I generally avoid it. Whenever I think my writing has gotten too serious or self-indulgent, I throw in a phrase or two to shift focus...man alive this is getting long. I'm spent.