09.08.13

at the risk of being the girl who insists all gatherings are better in cemeteries, i'm starting to feel like all gatherings are better in cemeteries. my little sister and esb and i rolled out to see scream* at cinespia at hollywood forever when i was out in los angeles for matty in july, and i insisted on a follow-up trip when joe and i were back in town two weeks ago. this time we saw back to the future, so hobbyists' souped-up old deloreans ant-marched around the cemetery grounds. the crowd was a bit less costumed than it had been for scream's ninetiesfest (really, los angeles? who doesn't have an old puffer vest and/or a prom dress?), but it was enthusiastic, and it seemed to appreciate our complicated picnic accessories. we planned separate menus for encampments in line and in front of the screen, swapped cheese for wine with the kids on blankets behind us, and toasted absent friends as the sun ducked like a starlet behind the mausoleums. i'll say it again: new york, please try harder.

*was skeet ulrich ever plausible as a teenager? he's that franchise's gabrielle carteris. also, esb had never seen scream. what?!

08.02.11

my sister (baby jo) and brother-in-law (chris) are as fond of movies and cemeteries as we are, bless their dark filmgoers' hearts, so our conversations about our upcoming stay at their place in los angeles were mostly a competition to see who could be most enthusiastic about rolling out for cinespia, a decade-old summer screening series at hollywood forever (a favorite final resting place for the famous and dead - valentino, douglas fairbanks, and the like).

cemetery picnickers start lining up around around six on saturday evenings, and they don't wait to make it through the gate: tables and chairs sprouted like mushrooms on the lawn at the side of the road. everyone had the same roll-up gnome-table; i'm guessing it came from the silver lake trader joe's, as we ourselves had (both in a temporal and metaphysical sense). perhaps a tenth of the crowd had had pizza delivered to them at the cemetery, while jo brought the russ and daughters caviar dish i gave chris last christmas. "you could bring candles," i said. "bitch," said she, "please."


{brother b's handmade cinespia table cloth}

we turned out for it happened one night, frank capra's 1934 screwball road trip movie with clark gable and claudette colbert. a deejay played assorted indie rock (and a lot of amy winehouse) as we staked out spaces on the vast lawn in front of the mausoleum/screen and reassembled our alternapicnics. folks queued for the voyage-dans-la-lune-ish photo booth; a placid cat wore a harness at the end of a leash. just before the movie started, one of the organizers came out to tell us that the deejay and his family had just moved to los angeles from northern ireland, and it was his (the deejay's) young daughter's birthday; the birthday girl came out as well, whispering that she was very nervous and didn't want the microphone, and we sang for her. the organizer asked her if she had anything to say. "bacon," she replied.


{gable, colbert, mausoleum}

dew settled on our legs and shoulders as the moon rose.


{clementines, votives}

we made short work of our wine and sake and tunneled under jo and chris's four thousand blankets (quilts handmade by jo, naturally). when the movie was over, i tucked in my arms and rolled over them both, the suckers.


{leaving the cemetery}

where are your saturdays in the cemetery in the summer with my sister, new york? please try harder.

10.12.09: a dreaded sunny day

101 in 1001 {II}: 052 visit at least 3 cemeteries in the new york area [01/03 as of 10.10.09]
amanda and i coincided at columbus circle and took the train out to green-wood for angels and accordions, a concert / dance performance / semi-goth hoedown. i had my very first whoopie pie (an early birthday treat) among the headstones; it was excellent.









(full set here)