Alphabet Street

Being part the accumulated identity of a borderline cinephile pop culture and otherwise consumer and connoisseur, at least if you ask her, with a heart made of letters and a mind of music. In alphabetical order.

A for apples, a favorite, but also: Abbey Road. Somewhere in her smile she knows that I don’t need another lover. Alela Diane, the voice of alternative Americana. Adele, the voice. Also, antidote, as in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom: “Where’s the antidote?!” There is always an antidote for the murderous mood, the somber, the depressed. Also, America. In both good as well as bad. Also, Nanouk, the sister. Included in A’s for her real name.

B for Bill, as in Murray, and Evans. Big Chill, the. Every person should have her own Kevin Kline standing next to her in times of trouble, to whisper this to her ear: “It’s us. You don’t have to handle yourself at all with us.” Also, Barbery, Muriel, and her book The Elegance of the Hedgehog.

C for coffee. Also, country music, the music of my heart. Also, Christmas. I am a Christmas person. Bring it on, nay-sayers. Also, Cloud on My Tongue. “Someone’s knocking on my kitchen door.” There must be better-written songs out there in the world, I guess. But I’ll be damned if I know what songs those are, exactly. Also, chocolate. Every woman knows why.

D for Dalloway. For obvious reasons. Also, Duras, Marguerite: the first French writer I ever read. The book was The Lover, and I was way too young to be reading it. To this day it remains one of my all-time favorites.

E for Ephron, Nora. She makes me laugh. When Harry Met Sally, I mean come on. Sharp as knives, warm as hot chocolate. A winning combo, a killer combo. “Waiter, there’s too much pepper in my paprikas.” Also, emotional landscapes. Björk’s line, something that makes me think of home.

F for Frida, as in Kahlo. Every young woman into the arts has a Frida Kahlo phase. So did I. Also, Fletcher, Jessica: my all-time favorite female sleuth. Also, Friends. Before the Age of DVD, there was the Age of Taped Episodes of Friends. Also, Feist, and Florence + the Machine, and First Aid Kit. Music to make the brain beat faster. Also, father.

G for gross, one of my favorite words, and not only because of its Finnish translation: ällöä. Also, garlic. Paraphrasing Madonna, if a person does not like garlic, I know I cannot befriend them in any serious way (this is something she said originally about Kahlo’s painting My Birth.)

H for home: a word that makes me cry sometimes. The place where one can rest for a while.

I for Idiot, the. Dostoyevsky’s story of kindness for deaf ears is more current now than it ever was.

J for Jaws. Need I say more?

K for ka and ka-tet. It has been at least ten years since I read any of the Dark Tower books, but these cryptic terms can be found elsewhere in his many books, too. I keep marveling at Stephen King’s way of bringing about and inventing these enormous philosophies and connections for his characters and stories. Roland and his ka-tet. All of King’s work forms a whole like no other. Also: Kirk, from Gilmore Girls. Sean Gunn rules. Also: kindness. I don’t know why we have lost it. Also, knitting. It is not for the faint-hearted. Also, Keaton, both Diane and Michael. Annie Hall meets Beetlejuice in the waiting room of Tim Burton’s and Woody Allen’s joint therapy room for the characters that ran amok.

L for Lauras, fictional and otherwise: Palmer, Marling, Nyro, Gibson, Veirs, Rob’s Laura in High Fidelity, and the Bat for Lashes song on the album The Haunted Man, as well as Lera Lynn. Also, Labrador Retriever. I have never met anyone more full of love than my sister’s dog. Also, lighthouses, and Lighthouse, To the. My favorite of hers for many years now. Also, laundry. One of life’s great inventions to keep one humble. Also, Lost in Translation, Sofia Coppola’s masterpiece to date. There is a moment of such magical shimmer at the end of this movie, a serendipity that one finds only seldom even in the works of masters, and for this to be found in such a young director’s work is almost out of this world. Everyone who has seen this picture and loves it knows which moment I mean.

M for Markus.

N for Nin, Anaïs. Diarist. Life sensualist. Un-compromiser. Maker of magic.

O for Obel, Agnes. The most beautiful interpreter of Northern Angst.

P for Paris, the city, as well as Paris Geller in Gilmore Girls. I think everyone who watches the show, worships Paris. So do I. Also: Prince, the inspiration behind many a story, including today’s. I remember dancing around in my sister’s room in the Eighties, jamming wildly to When Doves Cry as an innocent, tiny little girl, with bangs and plastic bangles the shape of hearts in my wrists. They were pastel-colored, and the hairs in my arms got painfully stuck in between the thin rings. Also, pasta. Also, Paperback Writer. Also, Please Mister Postman.

Q for Quagmire, as in the X-Files. This episode contains, if memory serves me well, and it usually does, one of my all-time favorite scenes from the show. It’s when Mulder and Scully are stranded on a tiny rock in the lake in the middle of the night, and they proceed to have one of the most revealing and interesting dialogues of the length of the saga. Also: Quidditch. A friend of mine, a huge Harry Potter fan by the way so this is in no way dissing the tale, used to use the term when he felt something, for instance an incredibly inexpensive piece of electronic equipment on sale, was too good to be true; a swindle. Quidditch as a euphemism for bullshit. I still think of this meaning first always, when I hear the word.

R for Revolver. You tell me that you’ve heard every sound there is, and your bird can swing, but you can’t hear me. Also, recycling. Also, Roxanne: the best Cyrano de Bergerac interpretation there is. When Steve Martin and Daryl Hannah are hauling the enormous telescope up on the roof and it’s heavy, Mr. Martin’s line never fails to make me laugh: “I had an aunt who knit me one of these once, and it was nowhere near this heavy.”

S for Spike, in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. “I may be Love’s bitch, but at least I’m man enough to admit it.” Classic. Also, super sexy. Also, scrambled, and shuffle. Because of you know, Frasier, and to shuffle cards, or songs, or words, or whatever. Also, snow. I love it. I always wish there was more of it. Also, shadow self. I think this is a real thing. I know I’m at least two people. The shadow self may not be a pleasant creature, but sometimes she is more truthful. Sometimes only deluded, though. Also, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. And though the news was rather sad, well I just had to laugh. Also, Schiele, Egon. An exceptional artist. Added points for sharing a forename with Spengler, from the Ghostbusters. Also, Star Wars. “I love you.” “I know.” This is a moment of such magical movie romance it defies words.

T for True Blue. If this is not the definitive sound of the Eighties, with Papa Don’t Preach, Live to Tell, La Isla Bonita, and Open Your Heart, I don’t know what is. Also, Chekhov, included in T’s because his name is Tsehov. When I read his short stories, I laugh out loud because they are so exquisite, and funny. Also, Tampere. My mother’s hometown, and my adopted home. Also, Tatum, Art. I like the piano. Also, tomatoes. I cannot picture life without them. I think I would even forgo chocolate, if pressed, to be able to keep tomatoes.

U for Updike. Maybe he was a scoundrel in life, I don’t know. Most people are, especially writers. I read somewhere that the extremely rude monologue Jack Nicholson delivers about why he writes women so well in As Good As It Gets is an actual, existing line of reasoning, originally attributed to Updike. But he produced the single most important book of my formative years. Funny how thing turn out to be pivotal. Also, Unbearable Lightness of Being, the, by Kundera. Like with Kahlo, Kundera is mentioned in the Required Studying Material for the New Intellectual -list for every young person who wants to understand the artistic condition. Also, understanding. Why it is so very hard to understand each other is beyond me.

V for Virginie, the painting by Albert Edelfelt. Accompanied by the unbelievably magnificent study on the painting and the model who sat for him in Paris and their love affair, Virginie! by Anna Kortelainen. Also: vintage. Also, and in connection to previous word, vanity.

W for wine. Wino forever. Also, apropos, Winona, the number one leading lady of my youth. Beetlejuice, The Age of Innocence. Reality Bites. Girl, Interrupted. Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Edward Scissorhands. Little Women. Mermaids. Heathers. Extra super points for starring in Stranger Things. I love you a lot. Also, White Album, the. Everybody’s got something to hide except for me and my monkey. Also, werewolf. For some insane reason this classic creature remains one of my favorites. I can’t get enough of The Howling, or An American Werewolf in London. Or Mike Nichols’ Wolf. Et cetera. Perhaps I was one in past life.

XO for love and kisses. (Actually, it is kisses and hugs, according to Wiki, but I don’t care.) Also, xenomorph. After the shark in Jaws, my all-time fearsomenest, horriblest, and most terrible creature that ever walked the, I don’t know, planet Acheron, formerly known as LV-426.

Y for you. I love to hear myself talk, but without you, I am nothing.

Z for Zissou. Which is really under B for Bill Murray, is it not?

And a posse bonus for us Northern Lads:

Å for -ård, Skarsg-, Bill. Why not add him to the other Bills? Because he was Pennywise the Dancing Clown, that’s why.

Ä for äiti, Finnish for mother.

Ö for öinen taivas; the night sky. I will miss you enormously. There is nothing more beautiful than a clear, starry night sky in winter in Finland.

(I have omitted italics to signify quotations of the Beatles’ songs on purpose for artistic reasons. Not trying to rob their lyrics. The Beatles rules.)

(Extra special kudos for Tori Amos for the references.)