Stacy Horn

Well, that was horrible. What is the point of debates? For me they are agonizing, even when my guy is doing well. I hate them. I hate them like I hate watching pundits go at each other on news shows, or what passes for news shows these days. I would never make a decision based on them, and can’t imagine many people do. I liked when Obama said, “Governor Romney, when it comes to his own party during the course of this campaign, has not displayed that willingness to say no to some of the more extreme parts of his party.”

But for the most part, I didn’t listen. I couldn’t listen. I watched the reactions on Echo and Twitter and Talking Points Memo. I had to be once removed from it all in order to withstand the anxiety.

Can’t we just do away with debates?? If tradition is the only reason we have for doing them then we have no reason at all. Along those lines, can’t we do away with the process of collecting blurbs about your book for the back cover? Does anyone make a decision about buying books based on the blurbs on the back cover?

Just in case anyone is not aware, this is where those blurbs come from: the author, editor, and agent go around and beg friends, they beg friends of friends, and call in favors, they also write complete strangers, basically saying whatever they can to get people to write something nice about the book. It doesn’t mean the nice things people write are lies, the point is, it’s no fun to ask busy people to drop what they’re doing to read your book and write about it. Everyone I know always has a stack of books they want to read, a stack that they need to read, and I know what it’s like to have to read a book when have your own pressing reasons to get to a ton of other books first.

In new cat news, Bleeck continues to take over. Finney still doesn’t like him, but I adore him. He has tremendous personality and intelligence. Within seconds he filled up this entire apartment with who he is and his Bleeck-ish ways, I’ll bet he could fill up the planet.

But I have to make this right with Finney somehow, and I’m not sure what to do. Maybe once a day put Bleeck in the bedroom for a half an hour and spend that time loving on Finney, giving him catnips and treats?

My tribute movie to Buddy is pretty much done except for picking a soundtrack, except I might skip the soundtrack altogether. I can’t find the song that sums up how I feel, ie: “You were the greatest thing in the world and now you’re dead.”

I was hunting around for a specific movie clip of Buddy and instead found lots of pictures that I’d rejected and thrown away. I pulled out two. Not because they’re good, but because it hit me, this is it. No more new pictures of Buddy ever again. All the pictures I have now are all the pictures I will ever have.

This first one was taken at the end of this year’s spring cleaning. I was going for a panoramic shot of my sparkly and ridiculously clean apartment.

The one below was taken on June 26th, two months before Buddy died. I was still feeling hopeful then. Now it feels sad to see him look outside, with longing, toward a world that would soon go on without him. He always wanted to go out there (to kill birds!) and of course I never let him. And now that’s all over. Oh God.

This shot kinda kills me. I think it’s because I can’t do anything nice for him anymore. I can’t let him out there, not that I ever would. I can’t give him toys, or treats or food, or take him to vet to help him feel better. I can’t pull out the laser pointer which made him go insane he was so anxious to chase that little red light.

I so loved doing whatever made him happy. If you have a pet you know exactly what I’m talking about. For dog owners it must be reaching for the leash and your dog going nuts. It’s such a pleasure for the both of you, when you can give them exactly what they want. Poor little Buddy.

And you can hear it here. (Recorded by NASA, more info here.)

The view at my hair salon. There’s a view of One World Trade on the other side, but I’ve already posted too many pictures of 1WTC already, so I’m posting this one instead. This is looking southwest, and that’s the Hudson.

I heard the Cello Concerto No. 1 in A Minor by the French composer Camille Saint-Saëns on WQXR the other day, and realized I know nothing about him. Looking him up now … oh, the saddest part of his Wikipedia entry:

In 1875, nearing forty, Saint-Saëns married Marie Laure Emile Truffot, who was just 19. They had two sons, both of whom died in 1878, within six weeks of each other, one from an illness, the other upon falling out of a fourth-story window. For the latter death Saint-Saëns blamed his wife, and when they went on vacation together in 1881 he simply disappeared one day. A separation order was enacted, but they never divorced.

I wonder whatever happened to Marie Laure Emile Truffot. Googling turns up that same small piece of information over and over. According to one French genealogy site, she died in 1950 having never married again. Well, I guess she couldn’t if they never divorced. How sad for the both of them. He took three years to disappear one day. It makes me think they tried to get past it. But it’s hard to get over the death of a child, never mind two within six weeks of each other. What was the rest of Marie’s life like? Did she have friends and lovers? Did she blame herself for her second child’s death for the rest of her life, too? Surely someone has written about her.

Oh here’s something interesting about Saint-Saëns. Apparently, he “called for a suppression of all German music during World War I.” Coincidentally, in my book I have a small section about a similar movement in America during WWII, and I belittle the attempt. Interesting that a French composer tried to do the same thing.

There was a bake sale in the Bleecker Street playground the other day, and of course I had to buy a cupcake. I’m going to tell Bleeck (my new kitten) that the playground and the street are named in his honor, for he is the most fabulous new kitten in the West Village.

I haven’t really made an effort to gather Twitter followers, because there’s only so much effort one can put into getting people to read you, listen to you, link to you, like you, follow you, etc. Either they come across you and like what they see or read or they don’t. Period.

I have a book coming out however, so I have to give it a little more thought. The first thing I notice is how many people have thousands of Twitter followers and I have, well, a few hundred. SO embarrassing. If anyone has advice about how to get more followers I’d love to hear it.

I started trying to change the look of my Twitter page, but I’m having technical difficulties. Of course. Moan, groan, nothing is ever easy, blah-blah-blah.

Some performers at Union Square. I was sitting on the steps behind them so I couldn’t hear what they were saying to the gathering crowd. It seemed like they were basically saying or doing (and wearing) anything to get people to watch. Given the topic of this post, featuring them seems appropriate.