Stacy Horn

I’ve decided to give tretinoin a try. Every article I’ve read about the various non-drastic things you can do to look better (younger) say that all the various claims are bullshit except this, and topical vitamin c (and I’m starting to hear more about peptides).

It can take anywhere from two months to six months to a year before you see a difference so I guess don’t expect to hear about results any time soon! My doctor has started me out on the lowest dose—.25%—and we’re going to try that for two months. I’m just getting generic tretinoin and the tube I got cost $26.99. I’d be curious to hear what other people are spending. That doesn’t seem too bad to me.

I’ll report back first in October.

Tomorrow I’m going to call the Wild Bird Fund to see how my bird is doing. I put him here on top of a floor lamp while the landlord guys were fixing the door to the bedroom. If they ask me to take him back while he heals at least I’ll be able to close the door to the cats.

I just went to the best show I’ve seen in a long time, truly mind-blowingly great. It’s called Otherworldly: Optical Delusions and Small Realities and it closes on September 18. Do not miss it. I mean it. Just about every piece sucked me in, I could have spent an hour with each one and I rarely feel like that. But every piece created a world I wanted to spend time in. Or live in. Or own. I made a really short movie of one of the pieces, a zoetrope called Garden of Unearthly Delights by artist Mat Collishaw. When you’re there you don’t see the interruptions you see here in the movie (it’s annoying in the movie, I admit, but again, this doesn’t happen when you’re there).

On my way to the show, walking up Broadway, I passed by truck after truck, each filled with film gear for a tv show. Then out of the blue someone from the show contacted me today. She wanted to check what cold case files look like, to make sure the props are correct.

– I need to write a minimum of a page a day and I haven’t written for the past two days.

– I’m also freaking out about getting my writing done before my doctor’s appointment and here I am blogging about freaking out about not writing instead of writing.

– I have nothing to wear for the 9/11 ten year anniversary and I’m going to need TWO outfits because there’s a barbecue and service at St. Paul’s the day before, and then a service on 9/11 itself.

– Speaking of the barbecue, I’m trying to call all the 9/11 volunteers to invite them and I’m two-thirds done, which isn’t bad, but I’m freaking out about it anyway. Freak-out-age is not rational.

– My hair sucks currently.

– Money. As per usual.

– I need to get Finney back to the vet for another laser treatment and I suck for not doing this already.

This is a picture of the narrowest restaurant I’ve ever seen. I should have gotten a person to stand there to demonstrate how narrow it is. It looks more insane from the front, but I didn’t think a picture from the front would adequately portray the lack of depth.

Will I get back from swimming and be showered in time before the landlord’s guy gets here to try fixing my door again?

Will my bird be okay, and if he is, and if I have to rehabilitate him, where am I going to get a cage to put him in?

Will I finish these two chapters in time?

Will a spider land on me ever in my lifetime?

I have much bigger worries of course, but that’s what came to mind this morning.

This is a picture of some graffiti in Soho. Somewhere. Because I don’t remember where exactly. Or if it was even really Soho. It could have been Tribeca.

I was afraid the Wild Bird Fund people were going to tell me my bird was fine and I should have left him where he was so his mother could find him. That didn’t turn out to be the case. I’m not happy that he is not fine, but I did the right thing and he’s going to get great care now.

He’s about 14 weeks old I learned, and the vet showed me the xrays where he has a broken leg AND a broken wing. Poor little guy. I could see she was debating what to do. I’d been told they’d splint him up and I’d have to take him home, but she ultimately said, “He needs to stay here. We can manage his pain and feed him, he needs about a week.” Then I have to take him home and get him ready to be released, except she said they may just turn him over to the group that does the re-homing, I’m supposed to call back in a week to find out. She said the wing was broken in a spot where he’d be able to fly again.

I miss him already, and I may never see him again. This is Finney demonstrating why I never could have kept him anyway, it’s for the best. Thank you Wild Bird Fund for taking him and helping him.