NB: It’s good to see you. You look better.

PG: Do I? I wonder, sometimes.

NB: Well, the last time I saw you, you weren’t even eating Spaghettio’s. You weren’t at the Spaghettio stage yet. Tell me that’s changed.

PG: No, you’re right. I’ve moved through the Spaghettio stage. I haven’t had them in weeks, come to think of it. The Spaghettio’s turned on me all of a sudden. I’m still eating Ramen noodles almost every day, though. It’s my favorite breakfast.

NB: Should I be surprised you’re still in Iowa?

PG: I don’t know, Nellie. Should you be surprised? (rolls eyes, sips water.)

NB: It’s … Read entire post

Some might’ve thought it was dumb for me to go to New York City this weekend. I admit it was risky.

When I walk, I’m incredibly slow and I need an arm to hold. When I go up or down stairs, I’m slower and there had better be a railing. When I have to stand still for any length of time, say, waiting in line at a bubble tea place or trying to exit a packed theater, I waver and get tired quickly. Going across the country in this weakened state, braving places like La Guardia and 47th St. may have … Read entire post

She was marvelous.

What’s different about my love for Liza Minnelli is that I don’t love her for the music. Most people who really dig Liza are people who also really dug her mother, Judy Garland, or the MGM sound stage, Busby Berkley, Technicolor thing her parents represented. Most Liza fans (aside from being either homosexual men or over the age of 50) know the standards she whips out when she does a limited engagement down in Boca or whatever and they go nuts. That’s the Liza love they have.

But my love for La Minnelli is for other reasons.

When I was … Read entire post

Tomorrow night, I’ll have something delicious for dinner with Snyder.

Maybe we’ll go to the crepe place in the neighborhood or maybe we’ll go to the Italian bistro, which is even closer. Tomorrow night, I’ll slip into something adorable (to be purchased tomorrow afternoon someplace) involving high heels; then I’ll put on lipstick and heroic amounts of mascara. Tomorrow night, I’ll sit in the Palace Theater and probably openly weep for joy as Liza sings “I Love a Piano,” and hurry to get a Kleenex to mop up the heroic amounts of mascara now pouring down my cheeks.

That’s tomorrow night.

Tonight, I’m … Read entire post