This weekend, I did almost nothing—and it was glorious. I saw two movies, read a book in nearly one sitting, cooked a lot (and then got takeout from Dune when I didn't feel like cooking), and luxuriated in being downright lazy. This week, I'm making up for lost time and filling it with dinners with friends before camping in Angeles National Forest this weekend! Here's what I've been loving this week:
Usually, NeueHouse, a private coworking space, is closed to non-members but this week they're hosting a public and free walk-through of photographs on display, by former Condé Nast director of photography Dora Somosi. Somosi's photography explores "architectural and environmental abstraction." Check out some of her art here and RSVP here!
A few more things to fill your week: Tomorrow, HUM is hosting a day of 'wellness' at the Grove. On Wednesday, Culver City is hosting a bar hop with participating bars making their best SummerTinis! Check in at any participating bar after 5 P.M. to get a 'passport' then walk (stumble?) through Downtown Culver to get them stamped. This weekend, the Hollywood Bowl is showing Jaws with a live orchestra. Dun-dun, dun-dun-dun-dun.
After a photoshoot last week, we found ourselves with two enormous containers of leftover crudité in the office—full of prepared radishes, carrots, snap peas, string beans, and tomatoes, but much to get through before the end of the week. When I took it home Friday night, I tried out a simple solution on the no-longer-crisp veggies: I added olive oil, sumac, salt, minced garlic, and a little bit of cayenne to the containers before shaking them up and roasting them on a sheet pan at 350° for 30 minutes. The result, a leftover crudité dinner, turned out to be the simplest possible, but most delicious dinner, which I ate with a fried egg on top. Now, I can't imagine doing anything else with leftover crudité.
Ariel Levy worked her way up at my favorite magazine, New York (the only magazine I can sit and read in its entirety) until becoming a staff writer at The New Yorker. She covered the topics no one at the magazine dared to at the time, about sex and love, including (I only realized in writing this) a profile of Nora Ephron I've always loved. Still, I almost didn't read her memoir The Rules Do Not Apply when a friend gave me her copy, because I, for one reason or another, generally don't like memoirs. Well, Levy proved me wrong. I threw it in my purse Friday morning and, when I went to grab a glass of wine by myself after work, I pulled it out and didn't put it back until I'd finished most of the book (and a second glass). Her story—about her experience as a young writer in New York, and then the trauma that shaped her thirties—is immediately captivating, with lines I pulled out a highlighter to capture:
I wanted to meet those mysteries, too. I wanted to feel the limitless Mongolian steppe spread out in front of me. I wanted to know what it smells like in the morning in Rajasthan. Why? "I want to do it because I want to do it," Amelia Earhart once wrote in letter to her husband. "Women must try to do things as men have tried."
It reminded me of another knockout memoir by a New Yorker at the top of her career, Gabrielle Hamilton's Blood, Bones, and Butter. Maybe I've been holding out on memoirs...
Hannah Gladsby's comedy special on Netflix, Nanette, may be the most important thing you can watch on television right now. It begins as a fairly 'normal' comedy routine before Gladsby artfully weaves and manipulates her own punchlines into a powerful speech that addresses what's wrong with comedy, and why ending on the laugh is rarely the entire story. It's so packed with profound commentary and brilliant storytelling (as well as hilarious moments) that once finishing it, I rewatched it from the beginning. What did you think of it?
In the podcast Conversations with People Who Hate Me, activist and YouTube personality Dylan Marron has conversations with trolls who have left negative comments on his videos. Each conversation begins, "Why did you leave that comment?" and goes from there. Answers range from the obvious ("Because I was unhappy and took it out on you.") to the still-cruel ("Because it's true.") but often lead to some incredible conversations that ultimately humanize, although do not provide an excuse for, the troll on the other side of the screen (as Marron says "Empathy is not endorsement."). Note: I learned about this podcast this weekend from the most recent Ted Radio Hour on "Why We Hate," which is also worth a listen!