If the steering wheel of his Porsche racing car hadn't pushed through his chest on September 30, 1955, James Dean would have been 79 years old today!

Here is a minuscule handful of my favorite photos of James Dean. I used to have these stuck to my wall back in the late 80s when I lived in the East Village in New York. Kind of amazing that you can just find all this stuff online now.  I used to spend a fortune on books about James Dean.


From the movie Giant.



On the set of Rebel Without A Cause.




I always loved how his hat was poking the horse in the eye, but that the horse looked really happy anyway. I used to stare at this photo for hours. It's from the set of the movie Giant.



This is one of the last photos of James Dean. He died later that afternoon.

        

It is sun and blue skies out there this morning, gang. However, it is still only 16 degrees so there are icicles and snow everywhere.

You're probably guessing (correctly, as it turns out) that I could care less about football. I do know that the Superbowl is on tonight, but that is the extent of what I know. I realize I am missing out on a huge chunk of American popular society, since I don't even watch those wild commercials that everybody loves and talks about. Still, I manage to scrape together a good life without knowing any of that stuff.

Back in New York when I was still married to Wayne, when it was Superbowl Sunday, he and one of his closest friends would always get together at our apartment, order pizza from Sal & Carmine's, drink beer, smoke cigars, have a great time. The whole ritual. I remember it really fondly. And I would hang out in the back bedroom by myself and watch the Andy Griffith Show marathon and have a great time. (The more things change, guys, the more I stay absolutely the same!) Today on Turner Classic Movies, they're showing Rebecca and Wuthering Heights. So I'm DVR-ing those and will most likely be upstairs watching that while Jay is in the family room watching the Superbowl tonight, perhaps smoking a cigar -- and drinking beer and eating pizza, for all I know!

When I go to NYC next week, I will be meeting Wayne for coffee. I am looking forward to seeing him. I haven't seen him since 2005, I think. Or 2004. Something like that. It is hard to believe it is almost 20 years since we met. We met through friends at a Christmas party. He was a working actor back then and I was a singer. In the course of one conversation, we discovered that we each adored both Patti Smith and Emmylou Harris!! That doesn't often happen, gang. You'd be hard-pressed to find two more dissimilar girl singers, right? But Wayne and I were, like -- "wow! this is incredible!" -- so we figured, "hey, let's get married!" so we did.

That's one version of it, anyway. ha ha ha.

When I was in college -- excruciatingly briefly, gang -- I was a theater major. I thought I wanted to act. But it turned out that really what I loved were the plays themselves, the writing; I couldn't care less about being onstage. I was in love with the playwrights. So I said, "Fuck it." I quit school and went to California. Didn't like California too much, so I wound up in NYC. One of my secret little regrets, though, is that I never went on a single open cattle call for a Broadway musical. Friends who were on Broadway insisted I was a good enough singer to get into a Broadway chorus but it all felt so foreign to me. I was a singer-songwriter downtown, you know? But when I was a little girl, I really, really did want to be Julie Andrews. And a part of me still wants that. Too funny!

And I was a professional model for a little while, too. For a couple years in my late teens. But I really hated it. I hated it because I couldn't eat anything!!! Once a week, I would go into the agency and they would weigh me and take my measurements and one day they said to me, "Your thighs are 18 inches -- you really ought to take another inch off your thighs." I was 5 foot 9 and a half, and 119 pounds. I was like, are you out of your mind??? I'm already eating one carrot stick and a cracker a day; what am I supposed to cut back on? The one cracker? It was ridiculous. I remember looking out this enormously huge picture window at the agency that looked down over the Interstate that evening and feeling like I just wanted to throw myself out that window; that modeling was just so stupid but I still didn't quit. My adopted father came to town around that time and took me to dinner and said, "Why on earth are you pursuing this modeling thing? You hate it when men think you're stupid and being a model guarantees that men will think you're stupid." It was an interesting point, but I didn't take it.

It really was amazing, though, how stupid men thought I was. I can remember perfectly one of my (male) roommate's fathers saying to me, "You know, you're really not all that dumb." And he was genuinely amazed by this thought that I wasn't actually stupid. Men said that kind of shit to me all the time back then. I finally quit modeling when the movie Apocalypse Now came out. A man I knew back then had served in Viet Nam and he was really rattled by the film; he said it felt like being there. (When I finally met my biological father, he said the same thing about Apocalypse Now and being in Viet Nam.). That film made me finally quite modeling b/c modeling finally seemed like a really pointless way to spend time on the planet. For me, anyway. Some women are really, really good at it.

Well, wow. What a weird trip down memory lane!! I guess I better get a move on here, folks. The day's a wastin'! And I'm really falling behind in my daily page quota. Thanks for visiting, though!  Enjoy the Superbowl! Enjoy the commercials! I will be elsewhere! But see ya, gang.

        

Just kidding. Still snowing! I must have at least 20 birds feeding at the feeder but every time I step out onto the porch to try to get a photo of them, they immediately fly away. So here's a birdless shot of the yard. (Sorry it is so dark, but it is, as I said, still snowing.)


Last night was another one of those incredible nights. It got off to a great start b/c I got an amazing massage yesterday afternoon. I had injured myself while working out at the club on Wednesday, so my favorite massage therapist on Earth made a house call here yesterday and put me into bliss land. (The downside to that was that I didn't meet my page quota on Freak Parade yesterday b/c my mind was off in paradise somewhere.)

But dinner was so great -- even if I say so myself. And part of what made it so great was the company I was keeping and the fact that we had our martinis while watching Another Thin Man (or maybe it was After the Thin Man? The one that has Jimmy Stewart in it.) (Are you aware that Rudolph Valentino "discovered" Myrna Loy? He saw her photos in a portrait studio when he was in there getting some pictures done of himself. This was at the peak of his fame -- that peak colliding head-on with the ruination of his marriage to Natacha Rambova. However, Natacha went on to star in her own movie right at that same time and she gave Myrna a screen test and Myrna got the part. Allegedly, Myrna and Natacha were lovers during the shoot but I can't vouch for that part. I wasn't born until 35 years later.)

Anyway. So the martinis were great, the dinner was great, the movie was great, the wine was great (for an $8 bottle of chianti, that is). After dinner, the music was great -- Ray Charles greatest hits played REALLY loudly in my office. Then we switched to this compilation I made myself called "Pop Songs to Have Sex By" and they worked really, really, really well. Except that we "peaked," as it were, one song too soon. ha ha ha. The absolute energy-pinnacle of Fatboy Slim's remix of Groove Armada's "I See You Baby" was playing really loudly while we were onto the "cigarette" cool-down phase, and during the official afterglow song, Enrique Iglesias singing "Somebody's Me", Jay was back in the family room at the bar getting another drink for himself and I was standing out in the back yard in my snow boots, my wool hat, my wool scarf, my wool gloves, a little quilted jacket and nothing else, wondering how come some people are completely okay about being outside totally naked in the snow and I'm not. (For instance -- Jay. But that was during his days in Colorado and he was going to and from a hot tub in their backyard. I am of the opinion that that doesn't really count, though. It's not like he just went outside naked and stood in the snow -- he was on his way to do something. He disagreed with me. He felt it still counted as being naked out in the snow.)

However.

To make a long story short, I am a little hung over today. And once more falling behind in my page quota so I suppose I better scram and get back to work, gang. But thanks for visiting! I'll see ya in the funny papers.

        

From nthWord Magazine:

A new magazine for photographers and writers. The February issue is now available to peruse online. nthWord: Adjust Your Thinking


And photographer Michael Rosen's new book, Vanilla Sex, is reviewed on Carnal Nation.

        

It's about an hour or so later! We've still got about 12 hours of snow to go!

        

Okay, here comes the snow again. We're supposed to get something like 9 inches by the time it's all said and done. We are eagerly awaiting its complete arrival -- it has already begun falling but so far, it's just a dusting.

In anticipation of all the snow, we're going to hunker down tonight and have spaghetti putanesca, garlic bread, chianti, and these tiny little chocolate eclairs. Yay! And we'll probably set up camp back here in my office where we have all those windows. Of course, that always leads to other shenanigans, so we'll see how that goes. As you can probably guess by now, I'm open to just about anything.

Here's a really interesting bit of news. Johnny Depp is making a documentary on Keith Richards. The part that I find most interesting of all is that Rolling Stone magazine refers to Depp as an "Oscar-winning actor." I love that idea! That's the documentary that I'd like to make, in fact: what it was like when Johnny Depp won that Oscar, and which movie it was for, etc., etc. It would be so psychologically liberating b/c we're obviously dealing with events that are only happening in probable universes. But that is a very freeing way to create, isn't it? Using the realm of probabilities as your pool for fact-gathering? Opens everything right up and then the ideas flow like a tidal wave.

(What's sad is that I could probably get that ridiculous project funded, whereas projects that actually matter to me, people say, "Um, well, no, I think we're gonna pass on that." ha ha ha.)

So, while I've been typing, the snow has really been falling! Here's a little snapshot of its progress:



And while I  was downloading that photo to my computer, I discovered another photo on my camera that I'd forgotten about, it's from a few days ago! So here's a little bonus -- silver-haired me without my glasses on, totally in love, getting ready for cocktails:



Okay, on that festive note, see ya, gang! Thanks for visiting. Have a great Friday wherever you are.

        

I want to just say thanks again to the readers who wrote to me re: my post below from Feb. 1st. It is always heartening to know that I'm not just blogging away into infinity, or something. So, thanks again.

Last night, was all about this:



The Metropolitan Opera's latest version of Bizet's opera, Carmen. It was so much fun! That is the sole opera that apparently I have memorized every note to, but I didn't realize that until I saw it last night (for the first time). How magnificent.

Today is still all about editing Freak Parade. But in all honesty, I have maybe two more weeks, tops, and it should be 100% totally done. Which means it should be done before I leave for New York. Yippee ki yi yay.  I'm currently on Chapter 13. (There are 20 chapters, total.)

Then in March, I will begin regaling you in living color with all the wonderment that is Freak Parade, as that is when the Marilyn's Room blog goes to video! Yay! Well, not totally video, but once a week, the blog will be brought to you on video and occasionally I will do readings from Freak Parade for you personally, straight from my fabled office (or maybe from my yard, or from the car, or the grocery store; who knows!!?? Have camcorder, will travel -- right, gang?) So I am eagerly anticipating that. But I won't always be reading to you from Freak Parade; I'll also be taking you on little tours of my past & present insanity. It promises to be both revealing and fun! (And there will be quizzes! And prizes! So watch carefully...)

Okay, gotta run. Too much work to be done around here, gang. But thanks for visiting!! See ya.

        

I wish I had a better camera since god knows, I already have a camera. Perhaps I even meant, I wish I were a better photographer so that I could get better pictures out of my camera.

Anyway. You still got the gist, I'm sure. (See post below.) And here, apparently, is a true "epiphany" (a Christmas star).


My own non-stellar epiphanies come in the wee small hours of the morning, when I've been asleep for hours, apparently having some type of breakthrough dreams that I'm not consciously aware of. Then my eyes open in the dark, there's usually a song playing in my head and everything makes sense again: my life, my mind, my hopes, my goals, my passions suddenly feel back in synch and then some sort of amazing THOUGHT comes to me and suddenly I am able to reclaim myself. Those are my epiphanies and I had one this morning at 5 AM.

Last night, I was pretty much up to my eyeballs on Tylenol Severe Sinus (my favorite over-the-counter medication, even when I don't have a cold -- I can see why they make you sing (or SIGN, as the case may be) for this stuff at the pharmacy now; even without cooking it up in your meth lab, it gives you a really interesting high). Anyway, I've had a cold for the last several days b/c I was really falling out of synch with myself. At the risk of boring you to tears, I was battling depression again and this time, rather than waging war on the same old tape loops that play endlessly in my fucking head, I decided to surrender to a mild cold instead. And then take Tylenol and lay low and think about life until I could work it through and come out the other side.

So last night... I collapsed on the chair in the living room and I only meant to say one or two things to Jay about the insanity in my head, but we wound up discussing it for 2 hours. He is such an incredibly patient & encouraging & thoughtful & insightful partner. He always helps steer me clear of the minefield of my insanity. It's mostly my continued angst over career-related stuff. I pile too many goals on my plate at once, I tend not to ever acknowledge my accomplishments, and I always seem to just struggle ever-onward in search of fruition while not stopping to notice it all around me.

I do make a habit of being grateful -- of outright counting my blessings pretty much every day. But I do not tend to look at what I've already achieved every day, so I create this false sense that nothing in my life comes to fruition and that I'm crazy for always so constantly expecting it.

Sort of like I'm going down a giant, never-ending grocery store aisle. And I put this in my cart, and this, and this, and this, and on & on, wondering, When is this aisle ever going to end? When am I ever going to be able to enjoy all this stuff I keep putting in my cart?

Thanks to Jay, I went to bed last night feeling very hopeful about everything; about getting my projects done in a way that can be of service to other people, whether those people are my readers or my peers. And then when I awoke this morning, I got this crystal clear image of the last ten years of my life and I suddenly had the sense that they were profound. (They were profoundly difficult, yes, but they also were just plain profound.)

Loyal readers of this lofty blog will no doubt recall that the early part of the past decade saw my career, and my life in general, cresting to an all-time high. Then in the course of one afternoon in May, in 2007, 4 of my publishers went out of business at the same time. I had seen it coming, thank god, and had already retreated to sort of re-think my career but it hasn't made the last couple of years any easier to navigate. I also got another divorce during the past decade, went through menopause -- which was really, REALLY not fun. And then a man that I loved more than life itself became incredibly & terrifyingly abusive to me and I was suddenly caught up in that hire wire act of terror & confusion & guilt & shame & despair.

I know it sounds corny, but I have learned so much about the power of love. The power of having rock bottom faith in the Universe when you are facing down something that scares the shit out of you & choosing love anyway. It tore my heart to pieces but I somehow managed to do what I had to do to end that relationship without winding up in a hospital or dead, AND somehow managed to shift the balance of that relationship to one where we can now have a mutually supportive and respectful understanding of each other without "being in love" anymore. That was no small feat, I have to say. That alone was worth a decade of learning & growing (&, yes, occasionally shrieking).

And I know I've said this before, but on top of that, I wrote 5 novels, 4 novellas, 4 essays, god knows how many dozens of short stories, and I edited 7 anthologies over the course of the past 10 years alone. So somehow stuff was actually coming to fruition, wasn't it?

I'm bringing all this up b/c maybe you, too, have trouble getting a real grip on how great things really are for you -- whoever you are, you know? I have had nearly 40 thousand visitors to this humble little blog just in the last month. I have no idea who you people are but I just love you. It astounds me, gang; it truly does. Since all I really do is babble on about myself, my yard, my angst, my love life & my INDESCRIBABLE sex life (yippee) as I reach my 50th year on planet Earth.... (We actually broke the bed Friday night; can you believe that? Isn't that hysterical?? That's one fucking solid, sturdy king-sized bed up there in our bedroom. It was too funny. BOOM, boom boom boom boom boom -- as each of the center supporting legs under the bed gave way. And of course I was smashed on martinis yet again, so trying to help him fix the ridiculously heavy bed was another laugh riot. We laugh all the fucking time.)

Anyway. I woke with this epiphany of hope & survival & joy & meaning & the wide open NOW that can be whatever you wish to create it as. And a voice told me to post it to the blog in case someone else needed to hear about it.  Hope & joy & finding all the good stuff. Just look at things in a different way, or maybe just look at things, and you'll see that all you'll ever need is really just right there with you and inside you. You're inalienable. You're pure, you're energy. We all transcend.

Okay. Gotta run. Thanks for visiting, gang. See ya!

        

I wish I could share this magnificent morning with you. It is still pitch black outside but the moon is full and bright white and shining down on my backyard through the winter trees -- and all of it is outside my wall of windows here in my office at the back of the house.

I don't have long before I have to go put the coffee on and wake Jay in time for our French lesson.

I had such an epiphany this morning. I woke at 5 AM with so much hope and enthusiasm and joy. (And singing the song "Nothing" in my head -- it's from A Chorus Line, another one of my all-time favorite musicals. It's a great and empowering song. Especially if you are pursing or have pursued a life in the arts, as I have.)

I realized -- FINALLY -- that the last 10 years have been kind of phenomenal for me. They were jam-packed full of an unbelievable string of low points but some incredibly beautiful things came up from the ashes.

I'll write more after French class... a bientot, amigos.

        

Me in 1988, from a publicity shoot in NYC: