Jack White's early 20th century Colonial Detroit homemansion at 1731 Seminole--where he recorded Get Behind Me, Satan--is up for sale. According to Wit of the Staircase, it's listed at only $930,000. Coming from San Francisco, that seems like a bargain. I could happily spend many hours reading by the fireside in this dark and lovely library. (In a previous apartment I had my bedroom painted the same intense shade. The cracks between the windows and the window frames were roughly an inch in width, but the warm color, a floor heater, and the quilt my grandmother pieced when she was sixteen helped make the winters bearable.)
The past few days have had a slightly Lynchian-esque quality, leaving much to ponder in spare moments. For instance, on Saturday night I went to the party of a long-lost friend with whom I am thrilled to have become reacquainted. It was there that I met someone who works for Peaches Christ, is writing a book on the fight over real estate on Mars (I imagine it as a sort of 21st-century Melmotte-ian railroad scheme), and could tell me the exact model number of my Oliver Peoples glasses (the 590 in black). I didn't even know the model number until I checked the inside of the frames. Impressive. This was all the same person, mind you.
Then my mom sent me a note in response to her book club reading The May Queen. In some ways it wasn't so much what she wrote in the note--which referred to her past disappointments and provided some insight into the nature of our early relationship--that surprised and moved me so, it was that she wrote it at all. Sharing how she really feels is not something she does often. It was a true gift. With her permission, Nicki has posted the note on The May Queen blog with the cache of other related communiqué.
Then last night I dreamt that Buddy Holly was my bartender at the Lone Palm. Day residue: I was listening to his greatest hits album all afternoon.
Oh. And while I didn't want to pimp for votes, now that the contest is over I suppose there's no harm in mentioning it. To quote Little Miss Sunshine: "I won! I won! I won!" Ed's Naughty Reading Photo Contest. I still haven't decided which books to buy with my prize, a $25 Powell's gift certificate. The delicious contemplation continues... (The book in the picture with me is Emile Zola's Nana, the decadent parable of a decaying society and the manipulative yet naive courtesan who represents its fading glory.) My sister took the picture, in case you're wondering.
"During the eighteenth century, Rum became England's most popular spirit. As Rum was brought back from the new colonies, the British realized its inherent appeal and ability to be mixed into fantastic concoctions known as punch. By the end of the century, in almost every living room, inn or pub, a punch bowl appeared. Thus blossomed "Punch Houses." They were relaxing environments, plentiful of couches, colors and Victorian flair." (from Hobson's Choice)
Last night, my friends Beej and Mike joined my sister and I at Hobson's Choice, a "Victorian Punch House" on Haight, to celebrate my sister's new job. I had a Blue Hawaiian which, although it isn't very Victorian, is quite good.
Nicki mentions Mankas, a 1917 hunting and fishing lodge in Inverness, in Part III of her San Francisco series (yesterday she quizzed me on my favorite SF spots and Tuesday, Michelle Richmond). It is truly an enchanting hideaway and the perfect spot for a romantic assignation. In fact, I went there with an ex-boyfriend once upon a time. The only regret I have is drinking far too much champagne and waking up with a horrible hangover the next day. So go and enjoy, but take it easy on the libation. Read the rest of Nicki's recommendations here.