's been two days since the major snowstorm that has hit New York in the last fifteen years and even I do not recover.
neighborhood of Manhattan is a semi-dirty snow and slush. Brooklyn, an avalanche. And Queens ... who knows how to be Queens.
California Dreamin '
Whenever I'm caught, I think of California. not the California of today, of course, destroyed by fires and floods, in bankruptcy, with reality TV star and a governor who barely speaks English. No.
never rains in California MI, oranges and "herbs" are of this size, everyone takes martinis poolside treats Robert Evans of "Bob", Richard Nixon of "Dick" and when they are not closing lucrative contracts for shows produced by Aaron Spelling kill the hours walking along the beach in Malibu in huge white cashmere sweaters as Robert Redford and Barbra Streisand wore, gloriously, in this masterpiece of California Dreamin 'is' The Way We Were. "
Mmm, memories ... I remember the rain hitting the roof at the home of the Queen of my childhood, the hot stove and fresh dish. But what I remember most about those afternoons are the blue eyes of Burt Bacharach promising a clear sky from the cover of his album "Futures" and the whispering voice of Dionne Warwick, suggesting the way to San Jose.
My love for this city ambitious, glamorous and intellectually arrogant called New York is unconditional. But, my love, why you gotta be so cold sometimes?
In these days of the iceberg I think of you, California: blond, golden, athletic and frivolous. The perfect lover.
I think that little bungalow in the Hollywood Hills or the cabin off the coast of Malibu never rented. In the script for Michael Sarrazin Valerie Perrine and I never wrote. In those lunches at the Polo Lounge Jacqueline never shared with Susan and Dominick Dunne. In those sunsets I have ever seen, parked in metallic blue convertible that I never had, anxious face a future that never sought and that, therefore, never came.
Like all memories, my California remains frozen somewhere in the 70's, completely unrealistic and ridiculously vivid as those first few seconds after a dream.
According to my computer are 4:23 pm and from my window I can see the red sun about to disappear on the white mountain walls in New York.
The silence is total. Or almost total.