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.)
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