Sunday, March 07, 2010

From a very nice hotel room in Hollywood, with love and melancholy

A strange day. In 90 minutes the car will come to take me to the Oscars, in 30 minutes I'll get changed into Kambriel's lovely clothes. It'll be a long day. I don't think Coraline has a hope of getting an Oscar -- not in a year when UP is nominated for Best Picture. But it truly is an honour to be nominated. And it allows me to bask in Henry Selick's achievement.

I missed the CBS SUNDAY MORNING piece this morning, but got lots of emails from people who liked it (many of which said that they'd got more from it than they did from the much longer New Yorker article). Thank to to Serena and to all the CBS team.

I've had a wonderful time here in Hollywood. Last night was a marvellous Focus Films party for their Oscar nominees, A SERIOUS MAN and CORALINE, which meant that I got to make Maddy happy by sending her a photo of her father and Simon Helberg (Wolowitz on The Big Bang Theory).

(The Maddy photo.)

Afterwards I got to introduce Henry Selick and Robin Williams (which made both of them happy). (Robin's daughter Zelda rescued me from feeling out of it at a party the other night, showed me her ankh tattoo and told me that when she signed up with CAA her first request was to read the DEATH The High Cost of Living film script, as a fan. She is a treasure.)

A few hours ago Amanda played a sold-out Sydney Opera House show (which included, she tells me, a cover of John Cage's 4′33″). Really proud of her.

So this ought to be a big, happy bouncy sort of day, and it's really not: in addition to being Oscar Day, March 7th is the first anniversary of my father's (unexpected, heart attack) death, and I'm feeling really melancholy. There are days that you just want to walk the dog in the woods, write a bit, and be with your loved ones, and this, it seems, is really one of those days, and I should have been smart enough to figure that out, and I wasn't.

I'm sure I'll cheer up when I put on the posh clobber and get out onto the red carpet. (No, you probably won't see any photos of me. Yes, if Amanda was standing next to me wearing a remarkable dress you probably would see pictures of me. Yes, I would probably be listed as Amanda Palmer and guest again. No, I wouldn't mind a bit.) I don't think I will go to any of the posh parties tonight after the Governor's Ball. I may go and hang with John Hodgman, who is a good person and makes me happy, or I may just go and have a relatively early night. Or I may surprise myself and bop till I drop somewhere. (Bet I don't.)

Right. Clothes on. Wish me luck.

Here's a link to Al Davidson's illustrated dream-journal: I would have posted it even without the picture he did of me. And Amanda. And cats.

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