Tosh Berman's Blog, page 242

January 21, 2014

January 21, 2014

Trying to find an vintage Christian Dior dress for a woman I care greatly for is very very difficult.  For the past year or so I have been working on my first novel "The Power of Sympathy or The Triumph of Nature," which is about the dangers of seduction.  To celebrate my good feelings towards the novel, I felt a great need to find a beautiful gift for my muse.



She was a friend of a friend and I met her at a British Pub in Santa Monica, where they have an annual get together in the memory of Benny Hill.  I couldn't keep my eyes off her, she was much younger than me, well, most women I knew were much younger, but nevertheless I have the touch of genius, when it comes to promoting people or certain ideas.  I am often called the Colonel Tom Parker of the West Coast.  When I was introduced to her by that friend's friend, I found out she was interested in writing. I think what made our relationship ticked was she was very much into the writings by Blaise Cendrars, a French poet and novelist.  i never met a girl who even heard of this great writer.  



She's a great beauty, in many ways she reminds me of a younger Peggy Lee, very deep voice, and very hard for me to look at anyone else in a room full of beauties.  Even then I matched her with something elegant and beautiful like a Dior dress.  I don't know if it's the novel I am writing or just me being silly at an older age, but I just can't get enough of her.

I tried to get Jeff Koons to do a portrait of the both of us together, either in painting or sculpture, because I felt it was important to document our relationship in such a manner.  But two things, I couldn't get Koons, and she didn't want me to do that.  Surely she can't reject an original Dior!

Keep in mind that there is nothing physical between us, except that I do have a need to document her beauty in some form or fashion.  Dior struck me as a man who can see beauty objectively and I like to think that I am that way as well.  A friend of mind found a boutique in Paris, that sold vintage clothing, focusing on Dior, and I purchased the dress without even seeing a picture of it. Once it arrived I invited her over for lunch, and presented her with the dress.  She was in a combination of shock and embarrassment.  Which I found was so adorable.  She insisted that she couldn't take such a present, but already, I had a dressmaker there to measure her size, so we can alter the dress to her Peggy Lee like figure.

A few weeks later she came by and tried on the dress.  She looked incredible.  Almost like another woman.  This time she told me that there was no way in heaven or hell that she could accept this dress, and I being the gentleman, said I understand.  Although I didn't understand.  Nevertheless I do have the dress, and I purchased a mannequin and now that dress and mannequin is in my writing room slash office.  Whenever I look at it I get a sense of purpose or power to finish my novel.

January 20, 2014

January 20, 2014

I just heard the news that they are going to shoot my script "In Old Arizona" which will be filmed totally in the outdoors. It's a western and I can't imagine a western without the outdoors and a horse or two. These days it is not practical to film a horse inside a room. It has been reported that Lord Berners had a pet horse that ran freely in his home in England, but alas, I don't feel that's natural, and a Western by all means and definition is 'natural.' 


The good and bad news is that our leading actor is Colin Clive. The bad part of the news is he's English with a very strong accent, and also he is drunk 90% of the day. I was told by the producer that I would have to slightly re-write his character as a drunk 'dandy' (due to his accent) cowboy. When you are a writer and especially working in the film industry one has to compromise, and I do so knowing the responsibility of the work itself as well as the production costs of making such a film. To give the film its retro western look, which I visioned being like watching it as a child on Channel 11 (Los Angeles) on Saturday mornings, we will be using old stock Fuji Film, that was transported by air from Japan. 


This will be my first script that was filmed, and already I feel successful. To celebrate my once-in-a-lifetime mood change, I put on a recording by Juan García Esquivel, who by his nature is always lively and fun. The one thing that is missing from my life on a daily basis is a sense of fun. Writing this Western was my attempt to approach 'fun' from a distance. I feel I can never allow myself the luxury to feel good. 

To give the film the authentic touch, we tried to get the music rights of Slim Whitman, who I think would be perfect for this film. The first thing I wrote for this script is the Colin Clive character on his horse (which I wish had the same color of fur or skin as Lassie) riding towards the darken skies of the Arizona landscape. At this point the Slim Whitman song will come over the soundtrack. The very thought of this made me cry, but it gave me the image to work on to finish this script. Once you got the ending, the rest of the writing becomes easy. One reason I like death, is because it is such a natural ending for a narrative.

I often wished that Federico Fellini had made a Western. One of my literary references for “In Old Arizona” was the French novel by Eugène Sue called “Mystères de Paris.” Although Arizona seems so far away from Paris, I still think of landscape as a place that only exists in one's mind or imagination. I hope everyone who will see this film, will and can enjoy it.

January 19, 2014

January 19, 2014

All the things I really like to do are either immoral, illegal, or fattening.  I was reading an essay by Alexander Woolcott, and was feeling a tad ill.  I went out with a very good friend for dinner last night, and the mixture of potato and enchilada didn't agree with me at all.  But than again why would one eat a potato substance with an enchilada?  There is no such thing in anyone's life as an unimportant day.  Yet, I found myself in bed being very aware of my stomach and thinking that I even look fat when laying on my back.  The true test of being fat for me is standing up naked, and if you can't see your genitals then you are too fat.



I felt an anxiety attack was on its way.   It didn't help matters that I spent a great amount of time yesterday in the bathtub reading short stories by Patricia Highsmith as well as Edgar Allan Poe. I felt like I was a subject matter for a photograph by Larry Clark.  Totally wasted, and very nervous about going out that night with my friend.   She is very beautiful, and with me looking fat, and basically disgusting looking - I just didn't want to appear together, because I felt it would make her look bad.


To calm myself down, I tried to visualize myself in a painting by Paul Cézanne.  It took me five minutes or so, but I started feeling the tropical heat and it made my body feel better.  The great thing is that when I stood up again, I looked down and I could clearly see my genitals.

January 18, 2014

January 18, 2014

Two things made a huge impact on me and my wife was the Northridge Earthquake and the night before purchasing our first computer, the Macintosh Classic.   As a couple or even as an individual we never spent so much money on an object such as the home computer.  At the time I didn't even know its full use.  I was thinking of it as a typing machine with a screen.  But we went to the local electronic shop, purchased the computer after talking to everyone for some sort of advice, and we settled on the Apple computer. The other computer brand seemed too macho or nerdy, I just wanted to turn it on and do its magic for us.  I remember at the electronic shop we purchased a computer game called "Alice" illustrated by Kuniyoshi Kaneko, whose illustrations reminded me of paintings by  Balthus.  

We set the computer up no time, did the registration thing, and added the "Alice" game into the computer.  The game itself bored me (all games bore me) but the images were so great.  My wife and I were thrilled to have "Alice" as well as having a computer.   We went to bed that night happy and content.

Around 4:30 in the morning I felt a dropping sensation as well as a roar that seemed to come from the gates of Satan's home.  They said the earthquake lasted for seconds, but it seemed longer to me.  Without a doubt I knew instantly that this was a major incident that was taking place, that may kill us as well.   The odd part was the quietness after the quake, maybe a second, and then the car alarms went off.  It was almost a musique concrete piece because there were so many alarms being set off at the same time.

It was pitch dark, and we just stayed in bed.  I remember trying to fall asleep but that was impossible.  Once daylight broke out I got out and surveyed the damage.  The first thing we thought of, more than lost life or what happened outside the house was our computer.  I went into the office area and books from the shelves were dumped on the floor, but standing perfectly proud on the table was our computer.  Nothing but chaos around the computer, but there was something almost spiritual about it not being harmed during the quake.

The worst thing about the quake was the aftershocks.  I remember for at least a month I had a deep fear of walking down the street, thinking an aftershock will happen any moment.  Therefore I avoided walking by brick walls as well as telephone poles with wires up above.  I imagine if a quake happened the wires would land on me and of course I would die a painful death from electrocution.  Odd enough that didn't happen.

January 17, 2014

January 17, 2014

As usual after eating my Peanut Butter and Jam English muffin, I took my bath.  Rarely do I take a shower, because I feel taking a shower is sort of the lower class of a bath.  Taking a shower represents that you have to something in great speed or the only purpose is to clean oneself.  But alas a bath is one taking over time, even denying time to soak themselves into a small body of water. Today I took a scented bath (smells like a forest in some imaginary land) while reading the play "The Cherry Orchard" by Anton Chekhov.  It seemed appropriate to read this while taking a bath.  Doing nothing can almost be seen as a political act in our world today.

Carl Laemmle, who was the father of Universal Pictures, so much part of my history, with respect to my love for films.  But the film medium is so fragile, and I remember reading that all his property or place of business was eventually torn down.  Only in the San Fernando Valley is his true home still exist, in a permenent place.  But before that his personal residence was owned by Thomas Ince, whose house was razed in the '40's.  Stars, film and the Cherry Orchard don't last forever!



I think about things like that while taking a bath.  Where i live is also where Mack Sennett worked and lived - yet where is his studio or home?  Shouldn't there be a plaque praising and acknowledging this great figure of cinema history?  But then again, perhaps there is a plaque. Often I have trouble explaining myself, at times I suffer from what Ronald Firbank suffers from, which is a feeling of not belonging.  Nevertheless, once I am out of the bathtub I rarely think about these matters.

Georges Bataille : Literature and Evil

Georges Bataille interviewed on French TV (with English Subtitles) regarding his fascinating book "Literature and Evil."   Thanks to Zach and Daniel Ricculto for bringing this footage to my attention.

January 16, 2014

January 16, 2014

Every morning I have my breakfast of English muffin with peanut butter and a touch of blueberry jam facing my street and always that abandoned car in front of me. About two months ago, I saw a young man in that car, but it seemed like he had trouble starting the engine. I ate one side of the muffin slowly and from the first bite to the last, is exactly how long it took him to try to start up the car. After that I never saw him again, but I am reminded of him whenever I see his car, and that happens every morning.

To distract myself from the sight of the car, I started to read Miguel de Cervantes' "Don Quixote," but the car kept distracting me from the read. I could easily remove myself from my seat where I have breakfast all the time, but I started to resent the fact that I have to move and not the car. The feeling of anger in the morning is not a good feeling at all. But the car in front does change, it gets dirtier and dirtier. Also the front door windows are open, so who knows what goes on inside the vehicle when I am asleep at night.

The other day while I was taking my walk I did go near the car. I didn't want to touch it because it was so dirty. But I did give it a quick glance and what I thought I saw was an image of Kate Moss, maybe a photo taken by Francesco Scavullo on the back seat. It was such an odd juxtaposition to me, that I went back to my house and played some records.




Once inside the house I picked up the Quixote book, but changed my mind and read one of Susan Sontag's essays from her book "Styles of Radical Will." For whatever reason I played the original cast recording of "Hello Dolly" with Carol Channing, and something by Ethel Merman. I just wanted something glamorous and sophisticated in my life. 




But again, I felt a depression sneaking up on me as I ate my breakfast of English muffin with Peanut Butter and jam, facing that same image of that abandoned car.

January 15, 2014

January 15, 2014

I worked at one bookstore for 25 years (off and on).  The last fifteen years was full-time occupation.  My memory is that I entered Book Soup sometime in the 80's and I reached out for a Gilbert & George art book on the top shelf, when I did so, that book and several others landed on the top of my head.   It was at that very moment that I decided to work there, even though I wasn't asked to work there.  But nevertheless I showed up on a daily basis - around 2PM Tuesday through Saturday, and basically hung out there.

I always had the talent to chat, so the fellow (not technically) employees allowed me to roam the store and occasionally help the customers locate books and so forth.  Odd enough the management got a little testy when I picked up their phone when it rang.  I always picked up their phone saying "Tosh here, Book Soup."   On the record I never actually said "Tosh here, employee at Book Soup."  That is a big difference.

When I started 'working' there, I remember a beautiful woman by the name of Elizabeth Short.  She was an expert on Hollywood history, and actually turned me on to some great books.  The one title that stands out at the time is Otto Friedrich's "City of Nets."  One day I showed up at 'work' and she wasn't there. The shock of her not being there was highly depressing to me.  Seeing a face on a regular basis and then not seeing them, is something that words often fail me in describing such a lost.  When people go, I often feel that their spirit remains.   It was one of the reasons why I stayed there for so long.

Serge Gainsbourg in Today's Guardian UK

photo by Tony Frank
A very good introduction to the songs  of Serge Gainsbourg.  Without a doubt one of the great songwriters from the 20th Century.    Read it here on the Guardian:
http://www.theguardian.com/music/musicblog/2014/jan/15/10-of-the-best-serge-gainsbourg

Also read the biography by Gilles Verlant "Gainsbourg."   Translated by Paul Knobloch, and published by TamTam Books.

"Answered Prayers" by Truman Capote (Vintage)

Why I picked up what some consider to be Truman Capote's worst work is to this day a mystery to me.  I was at Alias East Bookstore on Brand, and I had $7 more credit.  Due that I didn't want to hold on to a credit in my pocket for the next week or so, decided on this as a mood purchase.  Also I recently got back from New York City, and I wanted to read something 'classic' from Manhattan aesthetic.  My understanding is that "Answered Prayers" was a novel that Capote never finished, but talked about consistently on TV chat shows, and through the print media.  He was consistently late in delivering the final manuscript to his publisher, and some thought, for awhile at least, that this work doesn't really exist.  Perhaps due to his alcohol/drug dependance of the time, or plain old writer's block.

Once he did publish an excerpt of the book, a chapter called "La côte Basque," and hell opened up to him and swallow him and his book.  The controversy was that he based this story on real people, even including their real names.   Society pretty much threw him, as well as literary critics.  Keep in mind the only other book I read by Capote was "Breakfast at Tiffany's" a novella that did nothing for me.   So, I read "Answered Prayers" thinking it will be a slighter version of the inferno, but alas, it was a pure joy.

One, Capote's really bitchy and funny, and two, he is a remarkable stylist as a writer.  I may have trouble with him as being a narrative type of writer, but for someone like me who enjoys a good sentence or two, Capote is my guy, for now.  Also I have a deep respect for gossip being part of social history.  Gossip may or may not be true, but it speaks a greater version of truth in the narration that is history.  Capote attempted to capture the genius of Marcel Proust, but I think he failed.  But what he did capture was a moment in time, and a time that was very much Capote's last stance in that world.  Surely he knew that once he writes this, he will never be part of that world again.  Is that what happened to "Answered Prayers?"  Nevertheless this is an excellent document of life in Manhattan for the few, and luckly Capote is one of the few to capture that series of moments.