Author: Stacy Horn

I came up with an idea for an ongoing series. My neighborhood has transformed in the last few years. I’ve posted about this before, Bleecker Street and other blocks are now filled with stores I can’t afford to shop in. But I don’t mind, the windows are always filled with beautiful clothes that are nice to look it. The danger is, every once in a while there is something I want. They taunt me.

Technically, this first entry doesn’t count. This store on Perry Street has been here for a long time. Their clothes are magical, and too young and overly-dramatic for me, but they are like works of art and I love looking in their window. But yesterday they put out a red coat on the street that I WANT. I didn’t even look at the price tag. Even if it’s reasonably priced, which I’m sure it isn’t, I’m on a tight budget so there’s no way. But still. Want it. The red is deeper than what is coming across in this picture. The dress next to it is very pretty too, but too young for me.

So, Christmas next week! I have to say, Christmas TV has been abysmal. None of my favorites have been playing, like: Bundle of Joy, the Alastair Sim version of A Christmas Carol, Mr. MaGoo’s Christmas Carol. I’d love a marathon of Christmas TV episodes or something. I tried to bittorrent the Bones Christmas episode from the first season, but I can’t find a copy that anyone is actually seeding.

Anyway, I will have fun photographing clothes I want, I think. I can’t forget about 14th Street, which used to be so depressing I wouldn’t walk on it and now it has stores like Stella McCartney’s.

Two videos with Buddy in them! The second one, with Buddy alone, has music from Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown playing in the background. Yesterday, Finney knocked over my juice and I screamed and it felt so good to scream I just held it out for a long time, but then I heard my neighbor move next door, and worried that they thought I was being killed I added, “Bad cat!” to clarify the screaming matter.

This is a shot from my agent’s holiday party last. Good God, that poor girl second from the left looks like the devil with the eye reflection thing. Right? I had a great time chatting with my agent and other writers at the agency, like Lisa Carver and Vivian Swift and one really lovely person whose name just went right out of my head. A novelist who lives in Delaware … oh well, this is what happens WHEN YOU’RE OLD. Wait a minute, the guy on the very right, look at his expression. It’s subtle, but now I’m sure of it. That party was packed with demons.

This is the window dressing around Harry Winston’s that I mentioned in an earlier post. It’s more dramatic at night. It’s quite pretty, I wish I had captured it better.

Tonight is the holiday party at my agent’s office. Maybe I will meet some cool writer who is working on some interesting book! Oh, but then maybe I will die of envy. In any case I’m looking forward to it. (Possible envy-death notwithstanding. It’s a quick death. Actually, no. If it were possible to die from envy I imagine it would be a slow and painful death.)

Hey! Right this very moment, the song Alvin and the Chipmunks song is playing!

Christmas kiddie porn actually. This is in the window of a clothing store a few blocks from me.

Yesterday I took the day off and went to the movies and saw Enchanted. I’m sorry to report that I didn’t love it. I liked it! It was cute, and I laughed a bunch of times, but I wasn’t enchanted alas. Sorry. I think it’s still worth going if you’re in the mood, it’s definitely good. Just not great.

I was going to see I Am Legend right after, to make up for the disappointment, but I’m supposed to see that with Howard and he, rightly, would prefer to go during the week. When all the rest of you are at work. So we can have that “nyah-nyah, nyah-nyah-nyah, this is our payback for zero job security and no insurance, we can go to the movies in the middle of the afternoon if we want” moment. (Sob.)

Today it’s back to work on the book. I’m trying not to despair over that fact that this person who had agreed to talk to me hasn’t returned my calls. I am still hoping against hope that he hasn’t changed his mind. Maybe I should try writing him? It’s someone who experienced a rather dramatic poltergeist when he was 9 years old and in the foster care system. He’s now 40, and I tracked him down, and he agreed to talk to me, but no go so far. I was going to end my book with his story, regardless of what it turned out to be. Sigh sigh sigh.