Category: SANTA FE

PAIN OR PLEASANTRY- SHOVELING SNOW IN SANTA FE

~ LouLou ~ 4 Comments

WRITING BY HAND at my tiny Eurasian desk facing the window to the west; framed by time and familiarity into the branches of JD’s pine tree, today ward-robed in bacon colored leaves.   The black silky toned crows are still basking like prowesses on the branches, and waiting for the crumbs that fall out of the garbage cans at the hotel across the street. My bird family has already eaten through a full day’s feeding, and is fleecing each other to first place at the table. The silky drape of the winter sky sometimes adorned with lacy clouds is blue as sea and has shaken the clouds all night. N08041215581.jpgO SNOW. I am selfishly opposed to snow because  I don’t happen to get snow shoveling without gut-wrenching lower back pain.  How do you shovel snow?

I’m wearing one cotton camisole, one shapeless thermo  turtle neck, a down vest, and when I go outside I wear a down jacket. I’m so bundled up it feels like my limbs are bound in masking tape.  My teeth look whiter and my hair is flat instead of frizzy. Snow changes everything.   From my desk, I write, without thoughts predefined, just a drain of emotional threads from my heart, listening to Zap Mama as she takes me to the wild, naked, warm region of Africa.

This year isn’t like last year. The absentee man, fussing with the fireplace, making me afternoon espresso, kissing me when I cook, hugging me when I pull a folly, has excused himself from my adventures in livingess.  It is not at all like last year. Long time friend Rudy is in San Diego and so I am not interpreting the division of attention, between two men laughing at the kitchen table, and eating my blueberry pancakes, as they did last year.

I had the song of Judy Garland’s rainbow in my heart.  It was a time I will never forget, or regret, because I was satisfied for several years. Unabridged ecstasy poured out of body, and spread over my attitude, abundant spirit, mood, facial expressions, and my dreams were filled with amusement instead of nightmares.  I wander into unfamiliar snowy woods unsteady, juxtaposed between, acceptance and self anger for being so so… whatever it is that I pump into myself.  If I was judged by my adventures and not my accomplishments I would be a contender.

Growing up with gangsters teaches you to live with risk, to invite challenge, and  not complain if you loose. It’s wrong but it’s right.   Nothing is worthless; not one moment should be wasted because there is always that window of escape. Our minds are there to take us away. I’m escaping now, Zap Mama Pandora station on the headset, and writing. This is taking the moment out of frustration and into pleasantry.

My steps inward reply with emotional break-troughs, mundane tasks accomplished, solo ventures, match.com dates (another story) and a comedic sideshow as I wrestle with sealed boxes, make repairs, and toggle in my patent leather too stylish boots to actually be called snow shoes.   In these moments, I assure myself that evolving is never ending, and we do not ever know what to expect from ourselves.   If I write down the pleasantries surrounding my life, the blessings rise up and give me a softened comfort.  The sweet peace may vanish the next day, or be intercepted by the news, a wreck in the street, an unexpected phone call. The crossroads of everyday life comes and goes. Between all of these uncontrollable incidents we are writing stories that some day will be told in conversation, or written in journals and books. The essence of our changing lives is universal. Why am I doing this now, why am I feeling this now? Etc.

Remember your pleasantries, and bring them closer.   A few of my snow cold freezing feet remedies:  Kneipps Herbal Lavender Bath: Do not apply to the face!

Ralph Lauren Candles: I paid too much, but the scent is like having a man around the house.

Homeland.  Sunday nights Showtime. Clare Danes has replaced my empty strong female lead on television. I mean, this is one to Watch! ( season ended. Vegas on Tuesday’s is the other one to watch)

My friend Loren visits three times a  week at least: Snow means, silence, and hermitizing, so I  can’t wait to open the door to Luxury Limo Loren, and make him brunch.  We harmonize for hours;  on tones of fretful fear, wicked secrets, sex,  laughter, Santa Fe, immigration, buy American, and the crust of survival that is stale and must be reheated.

Treats: Snicker bars, Vodka and snacks that I can nibble on while indoors more than I’d like to be.

Bar Bells: For those combative moments on hold with Comcast, SWA or Verizon.

Books: Time for Virginia Wolf and Jack London.

Movies- Zorba the Greek, Auntie Mame, U-Turn, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and Once Upon a Time in America.

I AM PACKED FOR THE BEACH, JUST IN CASE.

ROAMING TO THE UNKNOWN

~ LouLou ~ 1 Comment

When I look beyond the quarry of my own chains and tough rowing as a writer, to that glorious painting that transforms every day, as if the sky was a Puccini scarf; of fuchsia, tangerine and turquoise, my soul is nourished.

Santa Fe is star power, and can shower your life with photographic moments on the half-hour. Like any city, village, or town you have some culture to conform to, or else you won’t be taken seriously.
In Los Angeles, I learned you have to be able to put on slapstick phoniness to get a conversation going with a stranger. Here in Santa Fe, amongst us Anglos, the advantages come if you are believably bohemian, liberal, quietly subsidized comfortably retired and artistic.

I don’t score well, and my direction is following Lawrence Durrell, Spirit of the Place, and living where you would never expect to live. I wish I could control my impractical, impulsive and annoying spirit of adventure. I think about cities of high rises and Jewish deli’s, at least five movie theaters built in the early 30’s, and neighborhoods of discovery. I just can’t give up the comfort of cocooning with humanity.

I long for the city, just as when I was thirty, all I ever talked about was SANTA FE. I lead a confusing life.

PHONE PICS 164

WHY NOT SANTA FE IN FEBRUARY OR MARCH

~ LouLou ~ 1 Comment

GALLERY LOULOU VACATION HOME AND ART SALON

IF YOU’RE CONSIDERING Santa Fe, the land of enchantment, for your next destination….

We’re at 7200 ft, 33 degrees daytime, and wavering between sunshine and an O’Keeffe cloudy sky. Bring sunscreen for the slopes or trendspotting Santa Fe from our porch.Small_Porch[1]IMP

NEWS:

  • 10,000 Waves renovation completed and worth a trip for hot tub, stars, and  massage, before dinner.
  • Farmer’s Market Weekends at the Railyard
  • All that Happens: www.santafe.com
  • ARTfeast February 24-26. Walk, eat, shop.
  • Restaurant Week

March 4-11, 2012

Take advantage of great deals during Restaurant Week, when the city’s eateries offer special three course meals at discounted prices for eight days. This is a wonderful time to try new restaurants that you might have neglected because of expensive prices.

Many Santa Fe restaurants participate in this week, offering up new specials as well as signature dishes. This is a relatively new event to Santa Fe, but it has proved incredibly popular with locals and visitors alike.

For more info, visit http://restaurantweeknm.com.

FLAVOR SAVERS:Geronimo: Low season, you get that table you want,  Il Piatto, New Menu-New Wines Chocolate Maven, Coyote Café Bar, Taberno for Tapas and Spanish guitar.

Morning flaky croissants at Chez Mammou on Palace Avenue.

Tia Sophia’s and Pasquels for Green Chili Breakfast Burrito

La Posada, Complimentary Wine & Cheese Wednesday,  and Friday night Chef’s tasting.

If you need Valet airport pick-up, reservations, snow update, requested movies..etc,  just you ask.  Thanks for knocking on LouLou’s door!

Adventure on,

SIFTING THROUGH THE SNOW

~ LouLou ~ Leave a comment

The silky drape of the winter sky sometimes adorned with lacy clouds is blue as sea and has shaken the clouds all night so we have sixteen inches of snow   at the Santa Fe ski basin. I’d rather be sailing. I don’t happen to get snow shoveling without gut-wrenching lower back pain.  How do you shovel snow?

I’m wearing one cotton camisole, one shapeless thermo insulated turtle neck, a down vest, and when I go outside I wear a down jacket. I’m so bundled up it feels like my limbs are bound in masking tape.  My teeth look whiter and my hair is flat instead of frizzy. Snow changes everything.

From my desk, I write, without thoughts predefined, just a drain of emotional threads from my heart, listening to Zap Mama   as she takes me to the wild, naked, warm region of Africa. I wander into unfamiliar snowy woods unsteady, juxtaposed between, acceptance and self anger for being so so… whatever it is that I pump into myself.

Nothing is worthless; not one moment should be wasted because there is always that window of escape. Our minds are there to take us away. I’m escaping now, Zap Mama Pandora Radio station on the headset, and writing. This is taking the moment out of frustration and into pleasantry.

My steps inward returned  1210121316  accomplishments: emotional break-troughs, mundane tasks accomplished, solo ventures, match.com dates (another story) and a comedic sideshow as I wrestle with sealed boxes, make repairs, and toggle in my patent leather too stylish boots to actually be called snow shoes.   In these moments, I assure myself that evolving is never ending, and we do not ever know what to expect from ourselves.

DON’T YOU DARE TAKE CHRISTMAS AWAY.

~ LouLou ~ 2 Comments

What is this nonsense? Am I really listening to a national complaint against,

Christmas? Who needs a job? Whoever you are that started this, dig yourself a hole in the ground and meditate for a month.

I’m half Jewish, half Catholic-all I know about my mother’s religion is the holidays. They remind me of her, and how the two weeks transformed our home, because she happy, really looking forward to seeing her mom, and sisters, and nieces and nephews….

Whoever you are, watch Hallmark television. We are saps for comfort.

GALLERY LOULOU PHOTO, FILM, MUSIC SALON- VACATION RENTAL

~ LouLou ~ Leave a comment

SANTA FE, NM.  VACATION HOME, GALLERY, AND MOVIE THEATER.

Gallery LouLou is a nationally recognized  Historic Home. It was upgraded to allow for preservation to mix with modernism. The house is across the street from La Posada Resort and Spa, and is two stories with 2500 square feet. We are one and a  half blocks  from Downtown Plaza.  visit our website at http://www.vrbo.com/345671206DSCN4229 110912113454aba9IMG_0499DSC02353 - Copy - Copy

•         The house is sandwiched between two outdoor living porches, one with BBQ overlooking the private garden. Daydream and smell the lavender.

•    The garage is a renovated  theater.. An overhead projector allows you to show DVD’s, plus turntable and 6 track CD player to create your own multimedia performance. Heated and furnished.

•    The house is all hardwood floors, with French doors in the main living area connecting to the front porch.

•    The kitchen is accessible to the porch and BBQ for dining Al fresco.

•    There are FOUR unique private bedrooms and two baths.

•    Two porches:  One in front with garden of roses, and back yard garden is lush with herbs, pear and apple tree, roses, lavender, cherry blossom, and a string of lights for a really romantic night.

GALLERY LOULOU IS A PHOTOGRAPHY GALLERY AND HOME. OUR ICONIC ROCK & ROLL PHOTOGRAPHS BY JIM MARSHALL, BARON WOLMAN AND PHILIP TOWNSEND ARE FEATURTED THROUGHOUT THE HOME,  AND ARE OFFERED TO GUESTS AT A DISCOUNT OF 15%.

We are two blocks from Canyon Road, which leads to art galleries, restaurants, and HIKERS AND BIKERS wilderness, Santa Fe Ski Valley and the Sangre de Christo Mountains.

Turkish Linens + Coverlets.

Three Queen Perfect Sleepers, one King Perfect Sleeper.

It’s fanciful, but unpretentious.

Writing Desk

Two televisions upstairs. Flat screen 52”

Indoor and outdoor music system.

Pantry.

Washer Dryer in basement.

Large eat-in, two sink, and island kitchen with pantry.

Jacuzzi Tub

Three outdoor dining areas.

Wi-Fi- purified water, and wood burning fireplace.

YOU’LL LOVE IT.

VOYAGES WITHIN & WITHOUT

~ LouLou ~ 1 Comment

I live in a temporary tide-pool, a lily floating against the current, weighted down by a suit of armor that shields me from the beauty, love and freedoms stirring in my bud.

The throw of the dice this week lands on a quote from the archives of my peculiarity-clipping folder.   I don’t know if this is branded in a writer’s genes, or simply another trivial pursuit to aid us in remembering things, that at the time we feel we need to remember, but we are not sure why.  Being a clipper means that nothing in print is safe in our presence.  We cannot resist the impulse to possess particular images and words, and usually without any logical reason. Once we have retrieved the clipping, we file it in a folder or notebook. The clippings do not age well and after 10 years, they are yellowed with torn, frayed edges.  They are rarely plucked from their binding burials and given present day meaning because they live in the bottom of trunks, or in storage units, and are difficult to get our hands on.   Since I discovered a clipping several weeks ago I’ve been investigating the connection between clippings and destiny.  I stopped being a savage clipper in 2002.

I opened up this one journal from 1988, and reading the pages, I came across the quote that propelled me into adventures in livingness. It came from Theater Critic, Kenneth Tynan, from a magazine article he wrote.  It was a personal essay and the line that beamed through me like a telekinetic force was ,   “Adventure. Voyage, there is nothing else! ” When I ripped it out I did not live, or ever imagined I‘d live in Santa Fe.   That was the first time I had come across that article. I remembered it, and swore an oath to adventure ever since.   I memorialized the quote and have continued to look for new places to adventure and voyage.    Since 1982, I have called home behind 31 different doors, in only six different cities.

I realize Kenneth’s voyage metaphor was not about relocating, though moving has a definite adventure inside it, but more of an internal adventure, opening your own doors to unconventional, unacceptable, and unrealistic measures in the hopes that you discover real newness of vision. 

THEN… THE PHONE RANG

~ LouLou ~ 1 Comment

All photos: Waldemar Kalinowski

David Manzanares on the set of Sweetwater: Noah and Logan Miller.

The first time I met David Manzanares was when I rented my home to the Brothers film crew. He eased me through the process, which was a big deal that cold winter when I was living alone. I had Sam Shepard, Jake Gyllenhall, Toby McGuire and Natalie Portman all in the house.

I’m not sitting in a hotel lobby or a restaurant scribbling notes about the clothes my interview subject is wearing or how he acts in a natural setting because the interview wasn’t planned. It just happened one morning in August, while I was having coffee and watching the wild birds on the back porch, when the phone rang.

“Hello.”

“LouLou, its David Manzanares.”

“David! How are you?”

“I’m doing great….yea, very busy.” David’s sleepy slow tone beckoned the beginning of an effortless conversation.

“How’bout you?”

He listened attentively, only interjecting the flip side of my struggles to interweave what course his life had taken.

“I’ve not seen you since the Brothers shooting.” I said.

“What was that? Two years ago?”

“Yea, time is racing, but I love every minute. I wake up and look out the window, and thank God for my good fortune… the happiness.”

“I think of you as one of the most fulfilled men in Santa Fe.”

He chuckled, “That’s what everyone thinks.”

“It’s true isn’t it?” I shot back.

“I’ve been to hell and back.”

“You?”

“Oh yea. But very few know. It was a year ago.”

“Afterwards, everything became clearer; how to live in both worlds with my family and a film career.”

While I wandered from the kitchen to the back porch, David confided in me. I listened to the private life of a notoriously loved and admired local boy who climbed the tricky trail to Hollywood.  David began a career in music in 1997 at the Santa Fe Bandstand playing his new Latin music on his guitar. In 2006 he hit the Billboard in the Latin Genre and went on to producing music for television and film. His song “Rocky Mountain Man” was in the film Brothers.  David supplemented his music with a job as a location scout, a natural for a boy raised in Abiquiu. He walked the line of family tradition and modernism during his teens.

“What are you doing now?”

“Which day? I go to Abiquiu Tuesday, no Wednesday, then to scout some locations, then the following week I start shooting.”

“David, are you happy?”

“Yes, very very happy.  I mean that I love what I’m doing, and everyday I wake up excited. You’ll get there with your passion for life.”

“David, would you be interested in … maybe a print interview?”

“About what?”

“You silly.”

A few days later I wrote up my questions, and sent them to him. He assured me he would make time, between studying his lines for the highly anticipated Miller Brothers Film, Sweetwater, and scouting a location for a reality show.

THE INTERVIEW

Q: “How does it feel being inside the desired creative environment of film and acting?”

A: “It has been, and continues to be an incredible journey.  Sometimes it’s surreal.  I read a script – jump into locations or acting and voila – months later it’s on the big screen.  It’s very rewarding to be a part of a creative, collaborative effort.”

Q:“Has it changed you?”

A:Yes, it has given me the gift of doing something I truly love.  I have always lived a creative life, whether it’s writing or performing music; acting or even reading a script and bringing a creative touch to the locations.  I guess it’s changed me in my appreciation for things and it has opened up new and exciting opportunities.

Q: “What have been the life lessons from your work that you’ve used in your own life?”

A:Ah, the life of living on the hot seat.  I have acquired the ability to go with the flow and be ready to shift in a moment’s notice.   There is no prediction.  It changes in a heartbeat.  It’s taught me humility, patience and most importantly, appreciation.  Both music and production are a constantly changing life force.  I find myself grounded by my family.  They are my anchor.  My ship tends to sail all over the ocean and my family is a safe harbor from where I draw strength and support.

Q:What do you want our readers to know about Santa Fe, that they may not know?

A:Santa Fe is a multi-cultural, very accepting and unique place.  It truly is the City Different on so many levels.  There are people and places that constantly add to the texture of Santa Fe and to my life, personally. It’s great to see your city through the eyes of the world, the very creative world, and that’s a gift in itself.

Q:Who in the film business inspires you?

A:That’s a tough question. From an actor’s standpoint, I would say Alan Rickman.  He truly is a most inspiring actor.  I watched him portray a terrorist in Die Hard to Professor Snape in Harry Potter to the Colonel in Sense & Sensibility.  Talk about range.  He is one of the most outstanding, subtle and profound actors in the industry.

Q: What is it like to be on a team of accomplished creative  people?

A” The past 25 years, I have worked with the most accomplished, directors, producers and actors. I get to work with the best crews, the best people in the best state.  Each project brings a new inspiration, perspective and creativity.  Right now, the project I’m working on is “Sweetwater” with the Miller brothers – Noah & Logan.  Wow – their energy and creativity is awesome.  I am always inspired – musically – creatively by all the departments from the Production Designer to Locations to Hair & Make Up & Wardrobe and everyone else.     It is such a team effort to bring any project to the big screen.  It’s awe-inspiring!

I work in Locations and that alone is one of the most creative departments.  I get a script or storyboard and have to match the scenes with locations in New Mexico.  Talk about challenging.    Sometimes the story line calls for a specific location and I get to interpret it and create it.  I have been with Ghost Ranch as their production manager since 1988.  The light alone can create something amazing.

Some days I feel like the most fortunate woman in the world to live in Santa Fe. Today is one of them. From my porch I can see a bubblegum pink sunset, filtering through the trees, and the leaves are warming up like dancers in a soft breeze. I’m playing the dreamy music of Madeleine Peyroux when I notice my friend Pauline from La Posada Resort across the street.  “Missy, you’re playing one of my favorites.” I wave back and sink further into the bliss of this quirky, dawdling little village of inspiriting locals.

ART OF BAR WRITING

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ART OF BAR WRITING.

ART OF BAR WRITING

~ LouLou ~ 2 Comments

SANTA FE, NM

It was just 3 in the afternoon, and I’d returned from a trip to San Diego, and my body craved relaxation, but not in the house, where suitcases remained unpacked, and dishes to be washed.  I walked down to La Fonda Hotel and sat at a table in the woodsy and old leather bar.  The smell of tequila and chips permeates the room, so I flowed with the

ambiance and ordered guacamole and a margarita. Sipping slowly, I took notice of the other people around me; old men in Spanish colonial chairs staring into the hotel activity, the reception desk staff, fudging with room reservations, and the lovely waiter, who bowed each time he came to my table. I hadn’t planned on thinking about the script I’m working on, and just as I was unwinding my limbs from the plane ride and trip from Albuquerque, ideas started boiling up like bubbles about this script. I panicked because I didn’t have my journal, or even a pen.   Ah! the gift shop.. …

” Do you have a writing pad?”

“What kind?”

“With lines.”

” We have a few.”

” I’m in a hurry, anything will do.”

” What’s the rush?”

” I’m a writer,”

” Oh, I get it.” The clerk rushed through the transaction, and as I was about to leave I remembered,  

” And a pen.”

She handed me the one she was writing with, and off I went.

Seated with my tools, I scribbled the thoughts as fast as they entered my still sober self, and when I finished, I took to writing about my surroundings.  Yes, this is a place to bar write. I’ve observed Sam Shepard in several places writing through a meal. He has the distinction of not being bothered, but if he is, he draws a line around his space with his power pupils, one glance, and you’re blown off his planet. Sam does not always  position his power pupils to defer interruption, I’ve seen him put his pen down and engage the stranger. His eyes turn to a likeness of the Mustang horse, wild and waiting for tenderness.

 You have to practice this art, because invariably someone will ask if you are a writer, if you are published, and then they tell you they want to be a writer too.  I don’t have power pupils so I put on my head-set and if necessary place  my phone to the ear, if I am in the middle of a superlative sentence that I cannot stop.  You also have to monitor your drinking, because I’ve learned more than one glass, is not going to read like it did while you were drinking.  

 

LA POSADA is LA FAMILIA

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LA POSADA is LA FAMILIA.

LA POSADA is LA FAMILIA

~ LouLou ~ 1 Comment

posición en el baile flamenco.
posición en el baile flamenco. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
The throw of the dice this week lands on the un-said and underscored vignettes that pass through us. Those moments which make us turn away from screens, cameras, and cell phones, to observe life around us.  Writers do this habitually, like addicts. It is our drug to examine what we feel no one else is seeing, feeling or thinking. These were last week’s vignettes.
I am outdoors on the patio of La Posada Resort.  The cotton wood leaves on the trees, are dancing in setting sun light. At the far end of the dining patio, the lawn is staged, and the grass is covered with folding chairs. On stage, under a white billowing tent, teenage Flamenco dancers’ switchblade their black and coral skirts, as the pillow soft breeze brushes my face. I’m smiling without envy, a massive leap, because for most of my life, when I see professional dancers, I’m scolding myself, for not following through with my passion for dancing. Tonight, it is gone. My joy erupts to the surface. The dancers are the same age I was when I began training.
Their painted cheeks and darkened eyes are highlighted by the sunlight; they look like paintings that have come to life. The music is burning through centuries of Spanish history, through blood and battles, and the eruption of their passion for dance.
We have a convention of insurance salesman, dressed in Eddie Bauer, and the ladies in Jones of New York, seated like birds with their wings clipped. The men are standing in huddles, roaring laughter at inside jokes. Three dancers break from tradition and are now dancing to Billy Jean, striking their poses and facing our table. the leader, whom the others bashfully imitate, plays to us, and I want to tell her, don’t stop dancing, don’t give it up.
 Seated in front of me is a couple in their late sixties.  Transparent by dress and manner, they look farm-bred Midwestern. He wears a hard-working no fluff or formality expression, and his wife, probably is his high-school sweetheart. She appears painfully restrained-but she covers this up with a contented smile. The husband is staring at me, his lips are scornful, his eyes like that of a disbelieving police officer, or judge. I’m behind sunglasses, absorbing them through my mental lens, as if we were having a conversation. I imagine him on a tractor, and his wife behind a white worn picket fence picking fruits and vegetables. We’re separated by the cultural divide, but I want to ask the farmer how his life has changed, how the economy impacted his crops, his dreams. What did he dream about when he was a boy? Maybe dreams were a luxury he could not afford.
Beneath a black lake of stars, the breeze whips my hair, Rudy smiles at me, without a word I know what he’s thinking. The evening volumnized when the band kicked into sixties soul, and the insurance salesman are now dancing with the insurance saleswoman, and their wings are unclipped.
We left, crossing through the festivities to our porch, where the music resonated. Rudy turned on the blue lights.
             “Don’t turn them on; they attract the moths.”
            “I tell you what I’ll do and what I won’t do.”
            “They’ll eat your eyeballs when you’re sleeping.”
               “What!  Where did you come up with that?”
             “Don’t know. Look whose coming out to complain about the music?”  Then we see our neighbor, stomping across the lawn in his red T-Shirt and Beret. Professor J, demands to voice his rights at every opportunity. I’ve seen him argue with a Police Officer in the middle of the street, at one in the morning. “You have an obligation to police Santa Fe that is your job!” He shouted at the officer for thirty minutes.
 The night closes, like a play from the summer of 2012. Doesn’t sound like the summer of 1971, when we met on the streets, and just hung out, listening to radios, and watching people.  I think living next to a hotel, has kept me closer to street life.  I could do without the delivery trucks at six in the morning and the crashing bottles in the dumpster. It’s not unbearable any longer because La Posada is nowLa Familia.