Author: Stacy Horn

Someone posted in an Amazon review of my book, Waiting for My Cats to Die, that by the time they got to the end of the book they wanted me to die. Okay, okay. DON’T RUSH ME. Meanwhile, here is yet another short video of Finney, who is trying to help the process along. (Sorry. I keep meaning to make videos of something other than my cats.)

Someone I know married a military guy and wrote, “I can identify a Blackhawk, Apache or Chinook helicopter by the sound of the blades slicing the air overhead.” (Lily Burana, great writer, that was in an op-ed she wrote.)

I’m so jealous! I want to be able to do that. What a cool skill. No fair. In the circles I travel, it’s very unusual for someone to marry into the military, so everything is very exotic to me. Especially being able to do stuff like that. Except now I’m remembering that New Yorker piece I read, about all the research since WWI into the effects of war upon soldiers. I wish I had saved that. Our soliders are paying a steep price. We need to be taking better care of them when they come home. Damnit. I have to get a hold of that piece so people know what I’m talking about.

We were talking on Echo about empire waists and I told the story of picking a wedding dress, which I didn’t like, but I got married in the days when all wedding dresses were ugly so I had no expectations, really. Except they made an ugly dress ever worse by changing it to an empire waist! At the fitting the waist was at my waist, where I wanted it. It was too late to change it, so I went down the aisle feeling unattractive, and that was that. Actually, it was not the end of the world. I had a good time as you can see from this picture of me and Adrienne, already pretty well toasted.

But now that I look at it, it’s not at the waist OR an empire waist. It’s just completely botched and uneven. I want my money back. Is it too late to sue?

Here’s another view of the worst wedding dress of all time, after Princess Diana’s, of course. This is me and my mother.

I went uptown yesterday to interview the daughter and granddaughter of Eileen Garrett, a medium I’m writing about. I came across this tableau at Abercrombie & Fitch on Fifth Avenue. This guy is store decoration. They are paying him to stand there with his shirt off.

I like Fifth Avenue in the 50’s and above. The stately feel of the buildings, even if what’s going on inside is not quite so elegant. I’ve worked at Tiffany’s twice (Tiffany’s is at 57th and 5th). Once when I first moved back to New York, and again a little after starting Echo, (an online service I created in 1989). I was out of money and I needed a job that didn’t carry a lot of responsiblity. I used to call the modems from the Elsa Peretti counter where I worked to make sure they were all still answering. If they didn’t, I’d say “excuse me, I have to use the ladies room,” then run downtown, fix the problem, and come back up. Needless to say, it didn’t work out between Tiffany’s and me, although they were very polite about it.

I think I told that story in Waiting for My Cats to Die. Great. I’ve become one of those people who tells stories over and over again.

I’m back home and someone is shooting a movie or a TV show in my neighborhood. This happens on a fairly regular basis. Sometimes the crews are rude, and I fantasize about ruining their shot, but never do. Sometimes they are nice. The Sex and the City people were always nice.

But this gives you an idea
of what it looks like.
Trucks of equipment up
and down the street,
then stands, lights, and
cables up and down
the sidewalk. There’s
always a table of crappy
looking food called the crafts
table. I think that’s
what they call it.
My mind is going.