CAT BAUER

As you can see by the dates, I have not kept this blog current because I've been so crazy with the Venetian Cat - Venice Blog, and the MySpace blog. In fact, I still have yet to put up the photos from the British panto that Howard Fitzpatrick gave me way back in February.

However, I see that some of you are trying to reach me. If you go down to the bottom of the right hand corner there, you will see a link that says "E-mail Cat." You click that link, and it will take you to my email address. Be sure to put some kind of good heading so that it doesn't get eaten by my spam blocker.

If you click the links that are on this page, you will eventually find me somewhere, I promise. And if it is an emergency, you can contact my agent in Beverly Hills at the Gersh Agency, whose info is on the "About Cat" page.

I am on Facebook, Good Reads, Shelfari, Library Thing, Poets & Writers -- it is really too much! But if you subscribe to any of those social networking systems, please feel free to ask to be my friend.

And for all you HARLEY, LIKE A PERSON fans, there IS another book called HARLEY'S NINTH, more magical and mystical than ever, complete with whiffs of Venice. There is an Amazon UK link there on the left, but you can, of course, get it on any Amazon, or at Barnes & Noble or anywhere they sell books:) If it's not in stock, tell them to order it.

Of course, you can still leave comments here and I will find them eventually.

Thanks!

Cat

This year we even have sponsors. Please meet me below the flyer.

It's that time of year, folks, for English Pantomime Theatre! Yes! This year, I am not the sexy boy. This year, I am the Good Fairy Bowbells. Hopefully, I will still be sexy:) Maybe sexier!

Here is one of my lines, written by the World Famous British Author, Laurie Graham:

Fairy Bowbells is speaking to Major Rat:

"There's nothing wrong with my flying. I ran into freak weather conditions. Anyway, I'm here to tell you I know about your evil plot to take over London."

The action moves later to Venice.

So, come on by if you are in town!

Santas in a Gondola

The six Santas in the gondola were out rowing again today for hours, tossing goodies at the kids, and blasting Christmas music. (It's not really a gondola; it is another type of boat; I am not sure what the name is and I am too lazy to find this out tonight -- but it looks like a gondola, only larger, without the ornamentation:).

It is quiet in Venice at Christmas, always peaceful and quiet. I hope it stays quiet forever.

Last night we had carols at the St. George's Anglican Church, sung by the Girls' Choir of Arnold School, from the town of Blackpool in the United Kingdom. They were angelic.
It was actually sort of like a show. We are always putting on shows here. I predict in the future it will REALLY become like the Magic Kingdom. You know how they have the sideshows there, like the Horse Shoe Review? It will be like that. The Anglican Church Christmas Carol Review. Stand in line outside and hope to get a seat.

Anyway, it was a good show. It was much more entertaining than proper Church. I wish we would make proper Church more like the Christmas Show. Anglicans are quite gloomy; there is way too much talk about sin. I think we should throw in a little Gospel attitude.

However, John-Henry Bowden, our dear Chaplain, is not closed minded, and is open to new thoughts. Sort of. Sometimes. Sometimes he is a complete radical Anglican. Once he called me on the phone and told me he would like it if I came to Church the next morning, as he had written a sermon especially for me. I became immediately suspicious. Two friends offered to come with me -- one of them the artist, Ludovico de Luigi, who is not the least bit Anglican. It was like arriving in Church with Merlin.

And it was GOOD I had them with me. Because John-Henry went on and on about the evils of... well, I can't remember exactly, so I don't want to misquote, but astrology was in there. And anyone who knows me knows I place a high importance on the energy of the stars. Open your eyes and look up, folks. What do you see? Planets and stars? Surely they are REALLY there, and surely they serve some purpose! They are emitting all sorts of energy, otherwise they would not be planets and stars. I don't think the Absolute stuck them up there to give us some nice background scenery.

Like people. People are emitting all sorts of energy. Some people are emitting good energy; some are emitting bad. And there are different combinations. Some people are a good influence on some people; on others they are a disaster. I am a great influence on many people, but there are plenty of people who Hate My Guts. They are usually people who have a hard time dealing with Truth. Since I am always going around speaking the truth, lots of people don't like to hear that -- especially IF THEY ARE SNEAKY!

Anyway, we had a lovely show last night. The girls sang, and then we had a story interspersed between the songs. Guess what the story was? Right! The same old, same old story about Jesus being born in the manger and I never get tired of hearing it.

I had my bit to read. I was Speaker No. 7. The church was flowery with candles and a Christmas tree. We had a lectern front and center up on the altar with a Very Big Bible to read from. My story was: THE SHEPHERDS GO TO THE MANGER by St. Luke, Chapter 2, verses 8 through 16. Shall I list all the stories? Why not.

1. GOD TELLS SINFUL ADAM (see what I mean:) THAT HE HAS LOST THE LIFE OF PARADISE AND THAT HIS SEED WILL BRUISE THE SERPENT'S HEAD.
2. GOD PROMISES TO FAITHFUL ABRAHAM THAT IN HIS SEED SHALL ALL THE NATIONS OF THE EARTH BE BLESSED.
3. THE PROPHET FORETELLS THE COMING OF THE SAVIOUR.
4. THE PEACE THAT CHRIST WILL BRING IS FORESHOWN.
5. THE ANGEL GABRIEL SALUTES THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY.
6. ST. LUKE TELLS OF THE BIRTH OF JESUS.
7. THE SHEPHERDS GO TO THE MANGER (this is the best one:)
8. THE WISE MEN ARE LED BY THE STAR TO JESUS.
9. ST. JOHN UNFOLDS THE GREAT MYSTERY OF THE INCARNATION.

Now, if there is a Star, and it is there in the Bible, and it is leading wise men to a Savior, can someone please explain to me how we are supposed to take that seriously, and then say Cat is crazy because she thinks the stars have some influence on human life?

HHHmmmmm......?????

Afterwards, we had had hot mulled wine with bits of fruit and raisins, and mince pies. The Brits love mince pies. In the British films, the British books, A Christmas Carol, etc., everyone is always wolfing down mince pies. Well, they really eat them, you know. I never had them before I lived in Italy, but I like them quite a lot. They are cute little pies, and inside they have mince. I put a Wikipedia link up at the top so you can research Mince Pies.

Another thing: the British have the same songs we have, but they don't have the same tunes. In other words, We Three Kings of Orient Are, has the same words, but a completely different tune. In fact, I hardly knew any of the carols at all. To me, the biggest difference between the Anglican Church and the Catholic Church of my youth is that there are different songs. And, the Anglican songs are INCREDIBLY BORING. When i was a teenager, my church had folk songs. We had great priests, radical priests.

This year was the first year in a long time that Sid & Judy Stires were not here. Judy has cancer, and I wish you would all say a prayer for her. Judy is my Fairy Godmother. When Judy is well, she arrives in Church with her mink coat and her sunglasses, and her little dog, Dollie, all dressed up with a Christmas collar. When Sid and I sit next to each other in church, we make each other laugh so hard that Judy scolds us and says she will have to separate us. Anyway, Judy has very serious cancer, pancreatic cancer that has moved to her liver. She is taking experimental drugs, heavy duty drugs, looking for a cure for everyone. She is using herself as a guinea pig. I spoke to her last week; she is at home in the States, in her room, looking at the ocean from her window. She wants to BEAT the cancer! Still! That is her attitude! It is nearly impossible -- no one has ever done it. But if anyone can, believe me, Judy can. She is one of the best women I have ever met, and I love her dearly. So I would really appreciate it if you would all say a prayer for Judy at Christmas.

Thank you.

Blessings,
Cat

Here are some images from over the past few months.

I don't have time right now to translate this very long article that was in the Gazzettino last month, but for those of you who read Italian, enjoy:

Lunedì, 25 Giugno 2007

«Il pettegolezzo? Un'arma tutta veneziana»
Dal 1998 in città, la scrittrice e giornalista americana Cat Bauer racconta il suo controverso rapporto con i residenti
di Adriano Favaro

«Il pettegolezzo? Penso che quello dei veneziani possa essere distruttivo». Ha passato alcuni anni a descrivere le delizie del capoluogo lagunare da giornalista per l'Herald International Tribune, il quotidiano in lingua inglese che si stampa in Italia. Poi è diventata una delle più apprezzate scrittrici di romanzi per adolescenti degli Usa. Adesso, in occasione della presentazione dei suoi libri (non ancora tradotti) avvenuta il 29 maggio alla libreria Mondadori di Venezia, Cat Bauer fa qualche confessione sui difetti della città più famosa al mondo.

«I veneziani che incontravo a New York continuavano a domandarmi con insistenza: allora è vero che ti sposi? No, rispondevo. Inutile. Quella del pettegolezzo è un'arma che i veneziani sanno usare in modo unico al mondo». Più che una condanna, una constatazione per questa scrittrice del New Jersey, una carriera da attrice alla quale ha voltato le spalle nel momento più alto per poter scrivere. «Un amico veneziano mi aveva messa sull'avviso: attenta, vieni dagli Usa, hai una cultura differente... Anche a New York e a Hollywood c'è pettegolezzo, eccome. Ma qui i veneziani "inventano" continuamente. Sono "creatori" di bugie».

Cat vive a Venezia dal 1998. Da quando arrivò per un soggiorno di tre mesi con il marito regista ("Miami Vice"). «Poco prima del rientro per gli Usa mi ritrovai un pomeriggio a piangere in piazza San Marco. Volevo restare qui». Fu la fine del matrimonio. E l'inizio di una convivenza con la città che l'ha portata, nel 2000, ad essere collocata come una delle prime dieci scrittrici americane. Sarà per questo folgorante successo che Cat sente così forte il senso del pettegolezzo veneziano? «Non lo so. È vero che la "venezianità" è difficile da capire. Conosco molti veneziani, dalle persone più semplici alla "nobiltà". Ma non ho socializzato. Questa cosa può farti impazzire».

Pare sia uno storico malanno, ricorrente per quanti mettono piede nel capoluogo del Veneto. L'elenco potrebbe essere lungo e l'aggiornamento impetuoso. Ma nemmeno i ricchi (neo o non) più famosi al mondo riescono a penetrare "la venezianità", cioè quel senso di possesso e proprietà indivisa e incontrollabile che solo alcuni, a Venezia, pretendono di avere.

«Potessi scrivere una cosa su questa faccenda - sorride Cat dalla sua casa che dà sul Canal Grande - Il problema del pettegolezzo è che questa è un'arma tutta veneziana. Mi sta chiedendo che gruppi lo fanno? Mai dirò qualcosa», sorride con aria di sofferente complicità col cronista.

A suo modo Cat è diventata "veneziana" dopo aver parlato profondamente di questa città e del Veneto. I suoi articoli passano dalla Corte Sarasina di Castello («ho abitato lì due anni senza conoscere nessuno e senza parlare una sola parola d'italiano»), alla storia di Lucio della trattoria Giorgione che canta "Cancaro, te sì un cancaro...",alle vicende di Cristiano della Fenice che edita con la Fondazione Levi cd plurilingue. E sempre di Cat Bauer è la guida edita dalla Penguin che lei rinfresca ogni tre anni su Veneto e dintorni.

Scusi, signora Bauer finiamo con l'ultima sul pettegolezzo? «Il gossip qui lo fa soprattutto gente che ha tanti soldi e che non ha bisogno di lavorare. Quelli creativi, quelli che vivono sul vetro o l'artigianato o come me, che si mantengono scrivendo, non hanno tempo per farlo. Sa che le dico? La migliore difesa dal pettegolezzo veneziano è il lavoro. Io mostro i miei libri a chi ha qualcosa da dire: questi sono il modo con il quale mi mantengo, spiego». L'avreste mai sospettato che una degnissima creatura arrivata da Hollywood, dopo l'esperienza in uno dei posti più pettegoli (dicono) del mondo denunciasse il dilagare del pettegolezzo veneziano? Forse lo fa come contraltare («sull'Herald non ho mai scritto una riga su questo») all'innamoramento per la città e il Veneto. Perché se andate sul suo sito internet trovate tutto di Venezia raccontato da lei: dallo spritz ai negozi che ha selezionato, ai ristoranti. Alle persone che merita incontrare. Sull'Herald Tribune ha scritto per inglesi e americani articoli deliziosi su come andare (e comportarsi imparando qualche parola d'italiano, cosa che a lei sembra indigesta..) al mercato del pesce di Rialto. E soprattutto cosa comprare e cosa no.

«Ho cominciato a scrivere romanzi per adolescenti - spiega - attorno alle vicende di Harley Columba, una ragazzina del New Jersey, che ha il nome come quello di una moto e che è convinta di essere stata adottata». Un sentimento questo che pare comune a tantissimi adolescenti e la cui narrazione l'ha proiettata nel top delle classifiche statunitensi.

«Dove scrivo queste storie? A Venezia naturalmente. Nessuna città riesce a darmi tanta energia come questa». Appare sincera nel dialogo col cronista. Come quando dice che se si scrive per soldi i soldi non arrivano e come quando sostiene di aver scritto libri per gente che non legge. Nel suo sito internet è un tripudio di contatti con la gente e con le sue cronache, comprese quelle appassionate di narrazione dei "creativi" di Venezia, città d'acqua fatta «di su e giù», un po' come la cantilena del dialetto. E quella - aggiungiamo - del gossip, che Cat definisce senza timore «the dark side of Venice». Il lato oscuro della città. Niente di nuovo, lo diceva anche Shakespeare. Da rifletterci.

Okay. Here is a blog just for people who are too frightened to click over to Myspace.

Do not be afraid to read my blog over there. I can't see it's you. A zillion more readers are there, so I am following the readers. You don't even have to join up, but if you do, it is SO MUCH FUN. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Some people sniff at Myspace, but that is only because... well, you have to have a heart; you have to have a soul; there are lots of artists and writers and and scientists and librarians and musicians, and young people -- and, most importantly, people who are young at heart. It's an honest place that you can control; very civilized. It will probably get ruined in the future, but right now everyone is monitoring each other, like the Good Old Days when the net was beginning.

Too me, the world will divide into Myspace people and Everyone Else.

For anyone who has read HARLEY, I am asked this question so much, that here is the answer:

Strangest thing I have seen lately: an electric toothbrush, still vibrating, alone, at the top of the Rialto Bridge.

Here's some Carnevale photos... as you can see, I am not so talented a photographer!

Blog over on Myspace for Carnevale. Please join me over there. Thanks!

I have to say that being on the jury for the Festa delle Marie was SO MUCH FUN. Not only was I the first straniera, there were only a couple of women. I think I finally figured out why I get along so well in Venice: I have a Venetian sense of humor! Ha! VENETIANS GET THE JOKE. Marino Folin, who is a Very Distinguished Professor by day, had us laughing so hard -- he was really on target. I was sitting between Sig. Folin and the artist, Ludovico de Luigi -- if you can imagine. Sometimes things get a little heavy over here on the island, but, ultimately, everyone remembers it is the Divine Comedy, not the Divine Tragedy.

Anyway, it was fascinating to watch the difference in the girls, who were aged 16 to 27. The contest was amazingly fair, funny and respectful -- somehow we all came to an agreement and picked the top twelve without much effort. For the first time in Il Gazzettino, the girls' astrological signs were listed, as well as their other vital statistics. You can thank Yours Truly for that.

Bruno Tosi, who is directing Carnevale, kept the whole thing on track, and Roberto Ballarin, the director of Il Gazzettino, held up his end on the other side of the very long table.

Afterwards, Tommy Vee, who is a Very Cute International DJ, as well as being Venetian, was mobbed for autographs.

I am going to blog for Carnevale. I will let you know if it will be here, on Myspace, or both.

Today I am going to be lazy and just put up my press release:

PRESS RELEASE


AMERICAN AUTHOR FIRST “STRANIERA” ON JURY OF ANCIENT VENETIAN BEAUTY CONTEST

CAT BAUER, YOUNG ADULT NOVELIST - ON THE PANEL OF JUDGES FOR

LA FESTE DELLE MARIE



Venice, January 31, 2007. Award-winning author, Cat Bauer, will be the first foreigner on the jury that selects the most beautiful, or virtuous, girls in Venice.

La Festa delle Marie originated from a pirate raid in 943 a.d., according to Venetian legend. In ancient times, Venetians married on only one day each year. A water procession from the Arsenale on the canal “delle Vergini” started the festivities. All the brides-to-be were rowed across the lagoon in decorated boats brimming with dowries, while their future husbands waited at the Church of San Nicolò at the Lido.

That year, pirates raided the procession, kidnapping the brides and the booty. An enraged Venetian rescue party executed the pirates and brought the brides back to the ceremony.

To commemorate the victory in the past, every year twelve patriarchal families would present twelve virtuous young women from poor Venetian families with a dowry, and the designation “le Marie,” or “The Marys.”

Today, the popular Carnival director, Bruno Tosi, together with Il Gazzettino, the local Venetian newspaper, sponsors a contest where Venetian girls aged 16 to 27 can enter to be a “Marie.” On Friday, February 2nd, the jury will convene at the Venice Casino to select twelve candidates.

“It is an honor and a privilege to be the first foreigner on the jury,” commented Cat Bauer, creator of the teenage protagonist, Harley Columba. “It’s a tribute to all ex-patriots who live here and who love and respect this city.”

Miss Bauer added, “My protagonist is a young artist who comes from the New Jersey suburbs. She must pass many tests of character in order to achieve success in New York City. To me, being virtuous means exploring all the colors life has to offer while maintaining a childlike innocence. In his book entitled, ‘With Peggy Guggenheim,’ Paolo Barozzi, who is descended from one of Venice’s oldest noble families, says: ‘I am convinced that real nobility comes from the heart.’ La Festa delle Marie reflects that message.

“In addition, the festival on February 9th nearly coincides with the publication date of my books in America on February 13th, which makes it especially poignant.” Knopf, a division of Random House, will republish Miss Bauer’s first novel, “Harley, Like a Person,” as well as a new companion novel called, “Harley’s Ninth.”

La Festa delle Marie takes place on opening day of the Venice Carnival, February 9th, at 3:00 p.m., starting at the church of San Pietro di Castello. The procession then makes it way to Piazzo San Marco by way of Via Garibaldi and the Riva degli Schiavoni. All the contestants will be treated like nobility during Carnival, participating in historic processions and exclusive palazzi parties. Then, on Fat Tuesday, one girl will be crowned with the title “Maria dell'Anno” or "Mary of the Year" in Piazza San Marco, winning a one-week vacation for two.

To learn more about the author and her work, please visit Cat Bauer at: www.myspace.com/catbauer and www.catbauer.com

Well, it is really Friday, January 19th as I write this now. I have been a bit overwhelmed because I set up another website over on Myspace, and can actually communicate with my readers. The response has been amazing. Check it out: www.myspace.com/catbauer

Anyway, just a week ago was the panto -- you can see the photo up there. It was a huge amount of energy output in a short period of time, but a great success. We started rehearsing on Monday afternoon; the first performance was on Thursday morning to a full house. The first half of the theatre was filled with small children; the back half with teens; in the upper tiers were The Ladies Who Lunch. I loved performing in front of the kids because they really believe in fairies.

Thursday's evening performance found Maestro Ludovico de Luigi sitting next to Maestra Joan FitzGerald -- so much creativity in close proximity! Their energy reached the stage and bounced back out.

The entire cast was brilliant -- everyone put their lives on hold to do the production. So, thank you, Laurie Graham for making that happen.

MOTHER GOOSE
Written & Directed by Laurie Graham

CAST

Narrator - Jeremy Magorian
Mother Goose - Jonathan Fox
Daisy May - Judith Asher
Silly Billy - Sandra Fox
Robin Goodsort - Cat Bauer
Sir Jasper Grasper - John-Henry Bowden
Terry Bull - Frank O'Halloran
Harry Bull - Howard Fitzpatrick
Fairy Stinkwood - Peter Page
Fairy Foxglove - Noelle Rimmington
Goosey Lucy - Elaine Eliah
Attila the Hen - Elizabeth Leckie
Make-up - Liesl Odenweller

Music Director - Sidney Stires
Choreography - Ferruccio Berolo
Sets - Jane Gorlin
Stage Manager - Louise Andrew
Light & Sound - Marilyn Bowden & Tony Bird

Miss Bauer's Day Wear by Sete-Cento: www-sete-cento.com
Mr. Page's costume by Leone Dooré
Ms. Eliah's plumage by Lynn Lazzarini & Christine Conway Morris

Benefits for the roof repair fund of St. George's Anglican Church, Venice

Okay, okay, I know I've been lax. But the holidays were intense. On Saturday, we concluded with one of my best Befana parties ever, with a group of creative, positive people. We have the twelve days of Christmas here, ending on January 6th with Epiphany.

Tomorrow some ex-pats are doing a traditional British Pantomine called MOTHER GOOSE. If you are British, you know what that is, but most Americans have no idea.

I am the lead boy, who is always played by a girl. My character is Robin Goodsort, a poor, but honest woodcutter. I wear short shorts with sexy boots, and look sort of like Robin Hood. On top I wear this incredible gold silk blouse/jacket. Most of my clothes were designed by Sete-Cento, a play on the Italian word "silk." They weren't designed with this play in mind; they already existed; but are the perfect look for the play. They are young designers whom I want to support because they are using Venetian products whenever they can: the buttons are glass made on Murano, and the lace is actually coming from Burano. Anyone who is working for Venice in such a positive way are the good guys!

Laurie Graham, a British writer, wrote the script and is directing. The donations are going to repair the roof on the Anglican Church (the real vicar is the bad guy). The female lead is always played by a man in drag; that is Jonathan Fox, and he is very funny as Mother Goose.

We're performing a morning show for the kids at 10:30 and an evening show tomorrow at 7:00 at the auditorium in Santa Margherita, then another performance on Friday night at 7:00. I'll keep you posted!

Today, December 8th, is the birthday of my protagonist, Harley Columba. It is also the day that John Lennon was shot. When I was creating Harley, I wanted her to have a deep connection to John Lennon, so she was born in the same hospital where John Lennon died.

December 8th is also a holiday here in Italy, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. This is the day Mary, the mother of Jesus, was conceived. One wonders how that came about... since most Christian holidays turn out to have more ancient meanings. So I will google it right now.

It turns out that December 8th is also Bodhi Day, the day the Buddha became enlightened.

It is the Festival of Neith, the Egyptian goddess who gave birth to Ra, the Sun god; it is celebrated by the Feast of Lamps. Neith, in turn, transforms into Isis, the "woman clothed with the sun," wife and sister of Osiris and mother of Horus.

But MOST IMPORTANTLY: it is the day that Amaterasu, the Japanese Goddess of the Sun, was born. I just found this out this second when I was googling the date. This completely, totally blows my mind. When you read HARLEY'S NINTH, you will see why... Harley creates a new goddess, and she calls her the Madonna of the Sun...

And, of course, on December 8, 1941, the United States declared war on Japan. They eventually made them get rid of Amaterasu since the Japanese royal family is descended from the Sun Goddess...

So when we dropped the bomb on Japan, we blew away the female sun energy. I think that was a really big mistake, and I am trying to do my bit to correct that situation.

That is a little joke I have with the sculptress, Joan FitzGerald. I tease her and say, "Joan, we're all gonna be pop stars."

I have been having too much fun lately, and will write a little gossip column today. (If you grab your copies of John Berendt's "City of Falling Angels," you can reference some of the real-life characters:) There are so many story lines going on in Venice these days, it is hard to know which fantasy to follow. As I've said before, in order to actually live in the Magic Kingdom, you must be a living, breathing character who develops an interesting storyline and moves the plot forward.

Last night, the artist Ludovico De Luigi was honored at Ca' Pesaro and it was a wonderful bash catered by Do Forni, who really outdid themselves with a heaping table of food that never ran out. This is Very Important because usually it is like a wake of vultures descend on the food table and there are only the carcasses of empty serving dishes if you arrive late.

We arrived late because Chris Cooley (JB page 203:) and I were waiting for Paolo Barozzi to arrive at my house. Paolo is descended from one of the most ancient noble Venetian families and has written a highly regarded book about Peggy Guggenheim since he spent many years with her and has lots of inside info.

Earlier in the day, Paolo Barozzi and I had gone over to the Guggenheim where he gave me a brief tour and began to show me a new way of looking at contemporary art... he made the palace come alive because he had spent so much time with Peggy and Pegeen, et al. there. He said that Marcel Duchamp was the key that opened the door. Then standing there looking at Jackson Pollock with Paolo... my vision shifted and I saw wild animals inside the mass of paint. Paolo was very emotional when he saw Peggy's memorial plaque, and I think he genuinely misses her.

I left him sitting in the garden and dashed home because I had invited people over for prosecco before we went to Ca' Pesaro, one of whom was Fiorella Mancini, who is the owner of Fiorella Gallery in Santa Stefano, the crazy clothes store there on the corner. Fiorella has a wacky tribute to Picassco in the window in honor of the show at Palazzo Grassi, though we all did confess we wished there was someone new besides Picasso, since he is everywhere always in every city.

So now after all this time we finally have Ludovico as a Work of Art, and it was a little thrill to have the bash inside Ca' Pesaro, which has been beautifully restored; the ground floor made a great backdrop for the party.

Restaurants in Venice were also cultural centers where artists created their own movement. In 1986, Do Forni Restaurant rejeuvenated the “Restaurants of Art” tradition by establishing the Graphics International Award. Every December, during a ceremony inside Do Forni, two artists are selected to receive the honor. This year, however, there is only one artist, and that is Ludovico De Luigi.

Even though we were late, there were still plenty of people when we arrived. Ludovico was beaming all night because not only was he having such a grand honor, he also has a new girlfriend from New York who is half his age. They were the King and Queen and everyone is quite excited and happy to see Ludovico in love. It will be interesting to see what happens with that story line, but I thought it was great that they had decided to go public at Ca' Pesaro!

I can feel the art waking up again... there is hope... with the recent outcome of the American elections, and my books coming out in February, and people resurrecting and coming back to Venice... it is a very exciting time.

Happy Birthday, John Lennon, 20 days late. (But I will make it up to you:)

I am wondering: has anyone else noticed that an apostle just blew by?

Those in America, grab your "Magical Mystery Tour" CDs, hit number 11 and crank up the music.

Father Lorenzo paid me a surprise visit on Wednesday night. This is not easy for him because he is no longer in Venice; he is now about 45 minutes away by car, and you must add more time to get to the car.

About 10:00 PM, the bell rang and there he was, decked out in all his glory. He had never seen the covers of the new HARLEYs before. He saw Harley's Ninth and said, "Those are my eyes." I said, "No, those are John Lennon's eyes." He immediately became humble and apologized for his pride (something I must learn how to do!). Then we read the scene inside HARLEY'S NINTH and I said, "You are right; those are your eyes. I don't even know what I write."

Leah Conti and I shared a double desk together in the six grade... I think it was sixth grade... it was a long, long time ago. Through the miracle of the internet, we have stayed in touch over the years. Leah is a photographer; she just sent me the cover she did for Connections magazine. Have a look and then meet me again below the photo:

There is also an interesting profile of Leah inside. Here is an excerpt:

"Leah would describe her photo art as 'capturing the essence of time.' 'All photos, even digital which can be taken and printed in literally a minute in time, are remnants of the past. I feel time has a way of leaving its imprint on things, which adds a kind of texture to a photographic image of a subject. ...'"

I've been playing with time a lot myself lately. Because it takes so long for a book to come together, I must live in the future. I just finished the final polish of HARLEY'S NINTH on Thursday night; it will be published on February 13th. Since it all takes place on one day, October 9th, I wove a lot of flashbacks and memories into the first person present tense voice. Sort of like photographs, only using words. So I am constantly shifting time. Also, since I live six hours ahead of New York and nine hours ahead of Los Angeles, there is that element of time, also. And I live in a town with structures that stretch back centuries, and traditions that date back through the millenia... sometimes it gets confusing!

My friend, Fulvia, and I had a coffee this morning down by Santa Giustina, where I used to live, and where Fulvia's family had a little grocery store, which is now closed. Fulvia was one of the first people who read the first draft of Harley, Like a Person long ago before it was ever published -- she is also an editor. We hadn't seen each other for years because she has moved to England, but in true Venetian synchronicity, we met at a tobacco shop one morning and began again.

Venice is like that. People come and go, but never forever; everyone remains connected. In the old days, the worst punishment for a Venetian was to be banished from Venice. When I speak to the Venetians who are forced to live in Mestre, many still have the longing for Venice in their souls. This is why I think Venice will never separate from Mestre. For me, the solution is to bring the people from Mestre back to Venice, if only for the evening. Like the people from New Jersey go into New York, it would be nice to have the people from Mestre go into Venice.

Fulvia and I spoke a lot about love, and how frightening it is. Italians have many expressions for love that we don't have in English, acknowledging the different types of love. But the person-to-person love... I am a great romantic, and agree with the Troubadours, who use the word Amor to describe the meeting of the eyes.

"So through the eyes love attains the heart:
For the eyes are the scouts of the heart..."
---Guiraut de Borneilh

In the days of the troubadours, the woman tested the man to find whether the candidate for her love had a gentle heart, and whether he was capable of love.

Joseph Campbell said that the heart is the organ of opening up to somebody else. It is the human quality as opposed to the animal qualities, which have to do with self-interest.

And Carl Jung (I am a big Carl Jung fan) said the soul cannot exist in peace until it finds its other, and the other is always a you.

I just have to share this news: my dear, dear friend, Lorenzo Tel, became a priest today. He is a Cappucini monk, and has the most amazing energy.

There were about 800 or more people there for the ceremony, in addition to about 60-70 assorted holy people up on the altar. It was standing room only. Presiding was His Grace Mgr Yannis Spiteris, Archbishop of Corfu, and I am honored that I had the opportunity to interact with him again.

When they put the priest cape on Lorenzo, it was like he was flying. He lifted his arms up to the heavens; you could see him testing his new power.

Afterwards, at the party, he was mobbed. Seriously mobbed. He has a lot of teenage girl fans. He has a lot of older men, older women fans. He has kid fans. He has nun fans; priest fans. He has a lotta lotta fans.

They fed everyone. There was so much energy, if someone showed up with a fish, I'll bet he could have divided it for all.

I pulled him away for a few minutes to bless some things. He said, "Now?" I said, "Yes, now." I said, "Now it begins."

***

That was in Mestre. Tonight, in Venice, it is a special night. No one is here. Most of the tourists have vanished very suddenly. They were here earlier today, but now they are all gone except for those in love. Those people are kissing. The Venetians are going around in their boats on the Grand Canal, singing Venetian songs.

In the middle of these moments, I was at La Fenice. La Biennale's Golden Lion music award was awarded to an 80-year old composer, Friedrich Cerha, and it was another warm moment. He has the energy of someone 20 years younger; it was impossible to believe he was 80. I've been fortunate enough to have had a box all week; it allowed me to give my niece from America, who graduated univeristy with top honors, the opportunity to see her first live orchestra. I was shocked that someone could graduate from university and never have seen a live orchestra...

I am writing these things because I want to share the news of ordinary life in Venice. I think it is quite extraordinary... these ordinary things have become extraordinary. Now the Germans are singing their songs out on the Canal...

I was on Panarea for a little while, an enchanting island off the coast of Sicily, the smallest of the Aeolian islands. A friend of mine has a house there, and I had a lot of sun, a lot of fun, great food, great company, good snorkeling, and solitary hikes across the mouth of the volcano.

Italians truly have the joy of life, and they are always giving me a new appreciation for all the wonders this planet has to offer... it is in their souls; they see things other cultures don't see -- they notice the beauty and elegance that surrounds us, even in everyday things.

And another great thing about Panarea -- no cars! Like Venice. Mostly electric golf carts and a few scooters. It reminded me a lot of Catalina, an island off the coast of Southern California where I have been known to spend some time:) I just checked, and sure enough, it, too, was formed from a volcano, just like Panarea. Both islands have mosiacs in common, also. Must be something in the lava...

On Sunday, I had the great privilege to view the Regatta Storica at a palazzo directly across from the grandstand, home of the universally beloved Giancarlo Ligabue. Even the mayor, Massimo Cacciari, stopped by to pay his respects before heading across the canal. This is one of my favorite Venetian celebrations, which starts with a parade of the ancient boats, then several races. It also signals a change of season; everyone comes back to Venice for one big town party; then, after, the rhythm changes as work begins again.

It was the first year I didn't have a festa at my house, so it felt a little strange. But with the cast still on my arm, it seemed impractical. (It is so frustrating; I went back to Ospedale twice to try to get it cut off a few days early, but the doctor said assolutamente no!)

One of the people I arrived with had to catch a plane, so we left early. We had taken a boat taxi there, but they weren't running during the race, so we were forced to brave the crowds. I could barely get through the mass at the bottom on the Rialto Bridge, but I was determined. I got home in time to call a friend to watch the rest of the races out on my balcony. All my neighbors were out of their balconies; everyone was out on all the balconies up and down the Grand Canal, which are always decorated with beautiful cloths. It was a warm, homey feeling to see all the palaces alive, and so peaceful when the vaporetti weren't running; I wish they would make them solar powered -- the roofs seem perfect for a big solar panel.

Later on today I get my cast off (YAY!) just in time for the rooftop garden party at the Guggenheim tonight for the artist, Mimmo Paladino, and a showing of his short film about Don Quixote.

The film festival is here. Some years I get a press pass and do the whole Lido thing, but I didn't have the energy this year. I must confess that I love Hollywood, as long as I don't have to live there. I was once married to a television director and lived in the Hollywood Hills, complete with Porsche and Mercedes in the garage. It was fun, I have to say. But for some reason known only to my heart, I felt compelled to leave that life and start again, alone, in Venice. I do, however, have an agent in Beverly Hills and one in New York; they represent me, so I am not completely gone:) I suppose you can take the girl out of Hollywood, but you can't take the Hollywood out of the girl... People ask me what I miss, and I guess I miss the way my ex said "Action!" He sort of stretched out a long "and," slowly raising the pitch of his voice. Like this: "Aaaaannnnnddddd ACTION!" He was a good director. But most of all I miss my housekeeper, Abigail. She was so much more than a housekeeper; she was like another part of me (the efficient part!). I love her dearly, and fantasize about sending for her. I still see my friends whenever I go back, or they come here; I was just there in May. But the actual living there... I don't really miss that; Venice has conquered my heart. I haven't thought about Hollywood for a while...

Anyway, movies... movies are magical. The entire process fascinates me -- WHY do human beings make movies? And the particular movies they make each year, a reflection of the mass consciousness.

Movies in Venice are the best because we have the coolest venue: an outdoor theatre in Campo San Polo. It's like going to the drive-in movies without a car. On Thursday night my friend and I went to see the world premiere of Brian De Palma's BLACK DAHLIA.

First we had some of that famous non-existent fresh Venetian pizza. (I am referring to an article on the AOL travel board saying to "never, ever eat pizza in Venice" because it is all frozen. Well, LET them think that. Better for the locals!). One pizza, one enormous calzone, and a half-carafe of red wine cost 17 euro.

When it comes to the BLACK DAHLIA... Brian De Palma is one of my favorite directors and I love film noir. The first hour is great; looks great, feels great; there's a very cool long crane shot. But then it gets so convoluted I still don't know what happened. Some performances were so over the top, it bordered on camp. It could have been brilliant, like LA CONFIDENTIAL, but it wasn't. I would categorize it: "worth seeing."

Try to take a photo at the top of the Rialto Bridge. Heh, heh. Just TRY. Nowadays, you get maybe three seconds. It's like at a carnival where you have to shoot the moving target as it pops out of the background scenery. But instead, the target itself is stationary, and the scenery moves in front of it. Nobody stops at all anymore out of politeness to let a tourist take a photo. It's impossible -- you'd never get anywhere. They walk into shops with movie cameras in front of their eyes. It's too much!

I just stumbled across a book that I would love to read: VENICE, THE TOURIST MAZE by Robert C. Davis and Garry R. Marvin; University of California Press. Davis is a professor of Italian history and Marvin is a social anthropologist. Description: "Giving equal consideration to those who tour Venice and those who live there, their book affords rare insight into just what it is that the touring and the toured see, experience, and elicit from each other."

Interesting. Because it is a very rare tourist who will ever have the opportunity to interact with a resident on any level but a professional one. I've written before about how there are two parallel universes occupying the same space and time, interconnecting at some points, but having very little to do with one another.

I love this sentence, taken from the introduction: "Although each tourist may take up Venetian space for only a short while, in the aggregate they are there all the time: their transitory occupation might be called a flow, but for the Venetians themselves it appears as a continual, solid mass."

As I've said, to me, they seem like trees that move, scenery that is always there in the background. I can tell you a very clear moment when the points connected: when I fell on the ponte and broke my arm. It was as if I had burst out of my world and into theirs. Those few moments when I lay on the ground... No one knew quite what to do. The real world of Venice had crashed into the fantasy world, and there was a confused moment as to what the protocal was. And then the American man reached through the veil and helped me up.

"Diverse though they may be and however much each may think that he or she is engaging with the city in a personal way, these tourists are still virtually all engaged in the same fundamental act. They are consuming—not so much Venetian culture, but rather the images of that culture, and consuming them, for the most part, as quickly as possible (over 80 percent of visitors stay less than a day). What Venetians tend to see of them is a homogenous flow: men, women, and children whom they refer to as "the herd," and who in the aggregate seem as undifferentiated as locusts or starlings. Some Venetians (about 40 percent of the total) do make their living tending this herd, selling it souvenirs, ice creams, plates of fritto misto, or corn to give the pigeons. Most residents, however, go on living there in spite of, rather than because of, the massive tourist presence."

That is one of the best descriptions I've ever read.
Venice is a magical projection of the collective mass who visits and the ones who live here. The visitor can consume the image but not the reality, which is hidden and fiercely protected. Again, think American Indians, and you can catch a glimpse.

I am with Zia: Yes, yes, yes, let's have an entrance fee!!! Everybody on the ground wants it. Here is my slogan idea:

"You don't have to pay
if you stay
three days."

And outlaw backpacks! They smash into everything! The only people who use them are daytrippers -- and me, when I sneak to Billa once a month. BUT I AM WILLING TO SACRIFICE MY BACKPACK FOR THE GREATER GOOD. I will use only my carrello and make an extra trip, even though I am visible-with-backpack for only about 10 minutes (andata e ritorno).

The backpack people pee in the calle because they have no hotel. Lord knows what they've got in those packs; it's like they're hauling stuff for a week in the Alps. I am sure they are packing lots of sandwiches. Yesterday, I saw a woman about 55 sprawled on the Rialto Bridge like it was her bed -- really, I saw this -- just full body spread out; all she needed was a pillow. The words jumped out of my mouth: "Ma, signora!"

It's TOO MUCH!

But last night, something changed that continued to today. Suddenly, about spritz time, the tourists were gone and there was only spritzes and dialect. Well, actually, it started happening before spritz time Sunday; it started Saturday afternoon. I ran into about five people I haven't seen in months -- Venetian synchronicity. Then more, more on Sunday. And then, today -- full blast. It will probably be over tomorrow -- it was like... okay... take a deep breath... READY???

Yesterday was ferragosto, which is a big holiday. It's the day the Virgin Mary went straight to heaven -- as declared by Pope Pius XII in 1950. Like most other holidays, before that it was a pagan holiday with a goddess/fertility/harvest theme.

Anyway, food is always part of the celebration in Venice, and I had lunch at the house of the Zio and Zia of my ex-moroso. Zia's mother (La Nonna) lives with them. Nonna's birthday was the 12th, and she turned 97. I got her a lotto ticket because she loves to play the numbers (I get my 10% Venetian commission if she wins:). Nonna is sad because she doesn't want to get old. This is the first year she has refused to acknowledge her birthday. We said, well, Nonna, you bloody well ARE old! But she wants nothing to do with it.

I told them I said Venice was Disneyland, and they heartily agreed. Zia says she wants a T-shirt that says "Venexiana d.o.c.," like wine. Zio says tourists snap his photo when he goes out the door. They want to charge an entrance fee.

When I first met Nonna eight years ago, she said to the others: "She talks funny. Where is she coming from? Mestre?"

I was pondering what the odds are of seeing a real live Venetian out of costume these days... and at 18,000,000 to 60,000, they are not good. Of the 60,000 residents, how many are actual Venetians? I will base it on my gym. I would say my gym is composed of 90% Venetians/10% long time residents. Every so often a short-term rental wanders in. But what are the odds of a tourist finding my gym? Not very high.

A Venetian from a very old noble family told me to think in terms of American Indians. I think it is a good comparison. You can make a trip to a reservation and meet an Indian selling turquoise. But will you see an Indian at the gym?

Zia served pasta with tonno and cream for a first, with coniglio for the second, with Zio's great red wine that he buys by the case. Then fruit. Right now we have zucchette from San Erasmo, this very delicious strange little fruit that I am addicted to. It is almost over, the time of this fruit, and we mourned The Death of Good Food. We spoke (as always) of Venice long ago. I remind them (as always) that maybe it's bad now, but THE REST OF THE WORLD IS WORSE! At least we still have food from San Erasmo! Zia says there are only 35 people left on San Erasmo. Well, we know two of them, and their wives, so we know four.

When you come to Venice, you become part of Venice for the time you are here. Venice is a living, breathing organism, and you become a cell inside this organism. What kind of cell are you? Do you want to be part of the heart? Then you must love Venice. The brain? Then you must know something about the history, the art, the culture. The stomach? You must eat good Venetian food, food that comes from the lagoon, the sea, from San Erasmo, the island where the vegetables are grown. If you walk around blindly, eating McDonalds, what are you adding to Venice? Venice is a beautiful city, with breathtaking architecture. If you dress badly, you do not make a bella figura, you are not beautiful to look at; you take away from the beauty instead of adding to it. What kind of energy are you bringing? Do you bring your sense of wonder? What do you take home with you? A handcrafted work of art, or a fake purse from the street? Do you ADD to Venice by your presence, or do you take away? Do you bring nothing at all, and leave with only digital photos?

People say Venice is like Disneyland, and it is very true. Venice is the Magic Kingdom come to life. The people who live here are like Disney characters, except they are real. The other difference is that the characters do not live for the visitors, they live for themselves. Prince Charming is here, Snow White is here, as are Pluto and Goofy -- even the Seven Dwarfs. But most people will never get to see them, or if they do, they will not recognize them.

There are secret passages, just like Disneyland, and the characters know these ways through town. They interact and live out their stories right in front of the eyes of the visitors, but the stranieri cannot understand them. There are different Lands, too. There is San Marco Land, Zattare Land, Castello Land, etc. Each character has their role, and it they move from campo to campo, playing their part.

There are even people movers -- the vaporetti -- and gondolas for romantic encounters. You can buy a rose at any hour of the day or night, and always hear a song -- a gondolier, a canary, musicians in the campos, in the churches, a seagull singing in the sky.

Many people arrive in Venice, hoping for a part, but the standards to live in the Magic Kingdom are high, and there are not enough parts for those who want them. Well, that's not true. There are many parts available for extras or supernumeraries; not many parts like Cinderella -- and, of course everyone wants to start out as Prince Charming! Everyone wants to live in a palace, or on the Grand Canal, not on the ground floor in Castello. These days the opportunity exists for more people to live in the Magic Kingdom, if only for a short time, and try their hand at playing the game. It's a tricky game, with obscure rules, learned only after many trials and errors, constantly evolving. Venice is like a great school where you learn how to evolve from man to god. Many times, after a particularily big faux pas, one must leave to catch one's breath and regroup. But, if the error is acknowledged and humbly corrected, one is welcomed back with open arms. If it is not corrected after a period of time, you must leave forever, for all doors will be closed.

This morning brings jewels of sun drops jumping on the water of the Grand Canal. It is cool and fresh after last night's rain. I have a lemon tree on my balcony, by the name of Spike Due -- Spike the Second. The first Spike is in my former backyard in the hills of Los Feliz, in LA; he was prolific when I saw him in May.

There is a lot of life in Spike Due; he's wearing six lemons. I saw a bee this morning, hard at work, fertilizing, flitting from leaf to leaf. A fly got in his way, and the bee became furious at the interruption and chased the fly away. There ia also a baby lizard living in Spike. I am afraid Cleopatra, my black Venetian cat, spotted the little lizard, as she has become recently fascinated with Spike and Cleo does not care much about lemons.

One of my friends told me that Cleo was Burmese, and she does have a Burmese air about her. She is a tad haughty, speaks a lot, and loves to sit on the rail of the balcony and gaze at the birds above and the people below. She wears a gold necklace with sparkling rhinestones when there are guests; otherwise she prefers to go au naturale.

I'm growing jalapena peppers, basil, tomatoes and cat grass for Cleo out there. There is also a Christmas tree... which is not doing well. I brought it inside when Spike went out and I think it had a heart attack. It is very difficult to dispose of Christmas trees in Venice, especially in August.

Just when I've almost given up on mankind, the collective brain comes together and does something brilliant like review one gallon of Tuscan Whole Milk on Amazon:

Yesterday I finished the proofread galley pages for HARLEY'S NINTH -- that is the very last version of the new book before it goes to press. I was surprisingly emotional. So many trials had happened during the writing of this book, but, finally, it was done! I rushed to Fed Ex to send it off. There are many tourists here in Venice during August... well, there are ALWAYS many tourists here -- they say we are up to 18,000,000 per year, and with only 60,000 residents, the odds are against us -- but August brings a different breed. Every month brings its own distinct tourist, but the August tourist is, well, sort of like a tree that moves. So you must dodge all these moving trees to get anywhere.

Normally Campo della Fava does not have many tourists, but yesterday there were plenty. I was peeved, and struggled to get through. I had on elegant shoes because I wanted to make a bella figura and I stumbled on the ponte, and down I went. It took forever to hit the ground -- it is always amazing how time shifts and grinds to a halt when tragedy is about to strike. I remember thinking, how can I stop this? So many thoughts, rapid thoughts, as I fell down, down, down, until I realized, it could not be stopped; it was most definitely going to happen. I landed on my left arm, mostly my wrist, with all my weight. I spent another hour lying there on the ground, which was in reality just a few seconds... I could not get up. Then an American man extended his hand to me... I could almost hear his thoughts, a stranger in a foreign country... should he be involved? But Americans are, by nature, compassionate to others during emergencies, and rather efficient, wherever they are. For some strange reason, I spoke to him in Italian... he was very kind, and I thanked him. It hurt like hell, but I thought: No! I MUST get this book out; I can rest once it is safely at the Fed Ex.

Afterwards, my former moroso insisted that I go to ospedale -- an adventure in itself -- and sure enough, my arm is broken. So I have a cast for August, and am typing with one hand.

Today in the supermarket, an elderly Venetian woman, very elegant, told me the same thing had happened to her two years ago by the clock in Piazza San Marco, for the same reason. I wonder if ospedale keeps statistics on injury due to calle-rage! It's my own fault for picking those shoes, and then letting the crowds overwhelm me. Usually I can travel in the invisible Venetian wormhole that magically opens and transports one through town, but you can't slip inside the wormhole if you're in an agitated state.

According to the Venetian woman, it is the fault of the tourists; according to the orderly that made my cast, it is the fault of the tour guides. I would add to that, it is the fault of the digital cameras. People no longer think about their photos; they don't have to pay per shot, so they just shoot and shoot and shoot. They stop suddenly without warning with a camera in their eye... they are so busy worrying about preserving the experience, they miss actually living the experience.

I just came back from a theatrical production in Santa Maria Formosa put on by a company from Bulgaria, Theatre Bulgarian Army & Theatre Ulitzata -- fantastic. The theme of the festival this year is the playwrights Gozzi and Goldoni. Last night, La MaMa (NYC) had a show down in a theatre in Arsenale, "Il Corvo" by Carlo Gozzi. Just walking through the Arsenale to get to the venue was a magical experience. Both productions' use of the space was so clever, and the acting and music were top quality.

This past June, the Biennale had their International Dance Festival, and again the productions were spectacular.

It seems that ever since Davide Croff was appointed Chairman, the Biennale has been a lot more organized and productive. Here is part of the mission statement: "To generate-regenerate a City of the Performing Arts for the new century. Italian by destiny, European by history, international by vocation. Elitist and for all. To patiently connect-reconnect the many fragments that this city reveals, offers, suggests. Its theatres, its museums, its open spaces and the Arsenale, which over the years La Biennale has turned into a living heritage for future creativity...We are trying to build, or to help build a dream whose difficulties we are aware of. But it is a possible dream, if Venice so wishes..."