Grey Gardens

I watched Grey Gardens on Saturday.

Grey Gardens is a documentary about a mother and daughter ("Big" Edie and "Little" Edie) who don't know how to listen to each other, living in a house full of decaying and thwarted dreams. Along with at least half a dozen cats and a raccoon or two in the attic.

From the DVD back: Meet Big and Little Edie Beale - high-society dropouts, mother and daughter, reclusive cousins of Jackie O. - thriving together amid the decay and disorder of their ramshackle East Hampton mansion. An impossibly intimate portrait and an eerie echo of the Kennedy Camelot, Albert and David Maysles's 1976 Grey Gardens quickly became a cult classic and established Little Edie as a fashion icon and philosopher queen. Thirty years later, the filmmakers revisited their landmark documentary with a sequel of sorts, The Beales of Grey Gardens, culled from hours of never-before-seen footage recently found in the filmmakers' vaults.

I had been meaning to watch it for a while, and I finally got it from the library the other week. (I originally heard about it from the show Gilmore Girls when Lorelai and Rory are seen watching and talking about it in one episode.)
Actually, I didn't realize that the companion piece to Grey Gardens, The Beales of Grey Gardens, was on the second disc till Sunday. I had to watch it as soon as I found out, of course; and I knew I had grown to love these people because as the titles started and I found myself back at Grey Gardens, with Little Edie's face smiling and her slightly strident voice talking again, I felt happy. I liked The Beales of Grey Gardens as much as the original. It had less arguments, more dialogue and more of Little Edie's musings.

These are some screenshots I took from Grey Gardens. (I didn't take any from The Beales of Grey Gardens because I was feeling too lazy.)













































































































































 














Grey Gardens certainly isn't for everyone, in terms of personal taste, but if this has at all piqued your interest you should look into it more. It is a fascinating piece: strange, saddening, and beautiful all rolled into one. (And just a note, there was a movie made in 2009 about Big and Little Edie which is also called Grey Gardens.)

My sleeping problems mentioned in last post have gone away. Strangely enough, I've been going to bed earlier than I have in years. (Earlier meaning closer to midnight than 1 o'clock.)

I can tell I've been down lately because I haven't wanted to do much of anything. Sadly, it's the ennui where I don't really want to read or write, I just want to watch British telly on youtube. I like the depression that makes me read a lot - then I at least feel like I'm accomplishing something. Ah, well. :P

I think for the most part the ennui has skulked back to its corner. I've made yet another to-do list for the month of March and I am going to accomplish things; yes, I am! It's funny, I never used to make to-do lists, but I have been since last September. I find it helpful to step back and look at what I need to accomplish. I used to think free spirits didn't need such lists, but they do, really. At least this one does. It's probably because I'm not in school and find myself suddenly without direction. (Not that I ever followed my school schedule very well...) My to-do lists are in no way set in stone either. If I don't get everything done, I don't really care. As long as I did the things that really needed to get done.

Actually, I've been very productive today! Huzzah!

Nyro November

As Christmas lights twinkle at me from neighbouring windows, I must accept that November's candle has nearly burned to the end.

This is not neccesarily a bad thing, though. I journaled a lot during the month of November and looking back, I realize how bemusing it was...

--We took a day trip down to see our paternal grandparents. It was my first time seeing my grandfather since he's been diagnosed with cancer. [This next bit is copied from my journal] He's undergone half of his treatments and I was shocked... because he looks no different! I would never even suspect he had cancer. I almost feel guilty, because I have been relatively untouched by tragedy & now that it has come... it's a nonentity. So far, that is. I should be giving thanks to God but I'm just sitting here wondering what the catch is. Sad, n'est-ce pas?

--Less importantly, I found out I have "misophonia" which is a form of decreased sound tolerance. From wikipedia: "People who have misophonia are most commonly annoyed, or even enraged, by the sound of other people eating, breathing, coughing, or other ordinary sounds." My whole life makes sense now! Or at least the past couple years do. :P


--On November 21 my "baby" brother had his 13th birthday! I could have sworn he was still 6, I really could've. As often as he drives me crazy, I love that boy so much. This one's for you, love muffin! ;)


--And most shockingly, my older sister has a boyfriend. Her first. Our whole family’s first, really. Let me put this in context: she's never had a boyfriend because her convictions do not include dating for dating's sake or transient relationships. This relationship is a serious one: one with the goal of possible marriage someday.

*excuse me while I scream inside*

I feel... a tumult of emotions. This all came on so fast - I almost feel threatened. My sister and I are close and she's already away so much; I wasn't prepared to lose her to a guy so soon! We all finally met him today. He seems nice and a little bit shy. Still... this is shaking my world. I'll get used to it, though... eventually.
As I've watched this whole thing unfold, (the talking, the texting, the praying, the texting, the texting) all I can think is Aww...! [I don't want this for myself. I don't want this; I don't want this.] Perhaps it's my young age, but the knowledge that I am not expected to stay single my whole life makes me sick. But this is a bewildering topic I could wax on for hours. Let us drop it for now.


November has been strange for me, emotionally speaking. One day I'll feel driven and inspired; I write/bake cookies/paint with my brother; and then the next day all I want to do is crawl into a hole where there are no people and I can cry in peace.
These past couple weeks, I've developed an ennui: the grey, sticky kind that's so hard to wash from the folds of the sky. I thought it was circumstantial, temporary; I thought I could keep it at arm's length until "that time" ended. Apparently not. It's still here.

November has sounded like a Laura Nyro song.


Practically all I listened to the month of November was her album New York Tendaberry, and (starting this past week) Eli and the Thirteenth Confession. On good days and bad, her music remained the only thing I didn't weary of. But those aren't the only reasons why I say November has sounded like one of her songs. Her changing tempos, the soaring flight; then landing; then soaring again of her songs has mirrored the carousel rhythm of my emotions. Except, I lack the passion she sings with; I don't seem to feel anything deeply anymore.

Today in church, though... I felt inspired. I can pull my act together this week, I thought. I can pull my whole life together!
Sitting in church seems to be the place where I make my best (and oft most random) resolves. Sermon-listening doesn't always happen, but that's just how it goes sometimes.

My ennui has not made a peep all day, and I am hoping this week will be better. That is one thing we must always cling to: surely tomorrow will be better. If we didn’t believe that, I’m not sure many of us would choose to wake up ever again.

So, though November has been an altogether bone-rattling month, I face the beginning of my favourite season with careworn hopes dug out from under the bed and grasped in my hands again. I’m not sure they will help, but I need to hold them and try to seek the truth again. I'm tired of being lost.





('The Man Who Sends Me Home' by Laura Nyro. I realize her music is not to everyone's liking, but I think she's pretty darn amazing, so I dinna care.)



{1st picture is text from the book I Am Half-Sick of Shadows by Alan Bradley and the 2nd picture is of Laura Nyro.}