Dinner Party

While reading another article by Christopher Hitchens today, I remembered a daydream I had months ago. You know that old question that asks if you could invite anyone over for dinner, living or dead, who would it be? Some might choose presidents like Lincoln or Kennedy. Some might choose spiritual figures like Gandhi or Jesus. Or perhaps just da Vinci, by himself, because that's a lot for one evening.

Me, I just want to laugh. Isn't that what a dinner party is for? Laughter interspersed with mock conversation?

Clearly I must leave a spot for Hitchens at the table, complete with an enormous glass of scotch and an ashtray (pretend the party's in the garden). He writes regularly for my favorite mag, Vanity Fair, and now I've noticed often on Slate. I don't follow his every word, nor do I agree with all of his ideas, but I've enjoyed everything I've read from him so far. He writes smart, funny and in a brave style that's not common. I have to invite someone to dinner who can so easily write (from Slate):

"However, what Article VI does not do, and was never intended to do, is deny me the right to say, as loudly as I may choose, that I will on no account vote for a smirking hick like Mike Huckabee, who is an unusually stupid primate but who does not have the elementary intelligence to recognize the fact that this is what he is."

I'm not sure who he would sit next to, but he'll have to find a place among the rest of the guests:

Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert, for a continuous stream of commentary that straddles intelligent and hilarious.

Oscar Wilde and Dorothy Parker, for their legendary wits.

Sacha Baron Cohen, for his remarkable chutzpah.

Dave Chapelle, for that "oh my god, did you just say that?" factor.

Groucho Marx, so that no one takes themselves too seriously (like that would happen).

Camille Paglia, so that everyone else looks normal by comparison.

And Ellen DeGeneres, for when we need a break from the sarcasm and profanity.

The physical bodies would fit at the table, but it's doubtful the egos would. And would they fall into cliques once the appetizers were served? Would Jon and Stephen be unable to resist talking about their next shows? Would Oscar and Dorothy want to engage in a battle of the wits (this is where I would hang out)? Would Camille and Christopher find it irresistible to discuss atheism in politics (the lack thereof)? Would Sacha and Dave try to sneak out to go to a party that wasn't so stodgy? And what of poor Groucho and Ellen? Surely they would find common ground, though I haven't the faintest idea what that might be.

Or would everyone mingle ebulliently, resulting in a raucous party lasting well into the next day? I can only dream.

Who would you invite?

Paris, Je T'aime

Love it. Along with inducing some genuine laughs, Paris Je T'aime really made me want to go to Paris. Then again just hearing the word "merde" can make me want to go to Paris, so maybe that doesn't mean much.

Paris Je T'taime is a compilation of eighteen short films that take place in Paris. Some are by famous directors, like the Coen brothers, Wes Craven and Gus Van Sant, others are by lesser known directors. But nearly every short was more entertaining or inspiring than many of the full length movies I've seen this year. And I could watch the stories in the span of three days and not miss a beat because I was never cutting any of them off.

The stories were about love of one form or another. Romantic love, parental love, love lost, then gained, love of the city. Some were ingenious in their ability to tell so much in so little time. Some held mysteries, but only for so long as it took to tell a 5-minute story. You only had to hold your breath for a fleeting moment before a satisfying exhale.

With a well-known cast (including Juliette Binoche, Maggie Gyllenhaal and Steve Buscemi, among others) a few of the shorts were sure to be hits, while a few others fell flat. For instance the one with Nick Nolte was uncomfortable to watch simply because he acted like he'd just downed a handful of pills and three carafes de vin rouge. But the one with Binoche was so heartbreaking I had to stop the movie at the end of that story and bawl silently at my son's bedside. I love movies that make you do stuff like that. It's such a release.

Could be a date movie, or just something a little different, but with heavy doses of instant gratification.

I'm Going to Let Myself

This December, I'm going to "let myself" and not feel guilty or uncomfortable about it.

I'm going to let myself agree to the tree that's bigger than I think necessary.

I'm going to let myself have another eggnog latte.

I'm going to let myself enjoy Christmas shopping without being turned off by the consumerism.

I'm going to let myself buy a toy that's not educational.

I'm going to let myself send a few cards with no personal message.

I'm going to let myself send a few cards with personal messages that are too mushy.

I'm going to let myself not care that we won't have Christmas lights up.

I'm going to let myself put a little more on that gift card.

I'm going to let myself say what I'm really thinking when we're driving around looking at Christmas lights: "Oh my god, isn't that the most beautiful thing you've ever seen!!"

I'm going to let myself say no to an obligation.

I'm going to let myself put money in the Salvation Army buckets every time I walk by them. I'm going to let Harrison do it too.

I'm going to let myself cry when I hear the choir singing a mile away at the church on the hill.

I'm going to let myself listen to WARM 106.9.

I'm going to let myself doze off while watching A Charlie Brown Christmas.

I'm going to let myself taste all the good food instead of devouring it.

I'm going to let myself relax when the kids: attempt to decorate the tree, eat too much sugar, open their gifts too quickly.

I'm going to let myself bask in the glow of their excitement.

I'm going to let myself enjoy the season.

I'm going to let myself feel joy.