|Home of Soho's International Film Festival|
Animated by the brilliant aAron Munson, Maude Mary & The Titanic is a charming tale about Geraldine's great grandmother who missed the boat. I was genuinely touched by this film and the thematic message to slow down and detach from obstacles: you don't always know what good news is. Something I really needed to hear. The American audience really responded to this film and I was pleased to see Geraldine receive the red carpet treatment she deserves. It was an honor to be there.
|Maude Mary & The Titanic|
Also had the opportunity to see fellow Canadian Xtina Cook's beautiful short, Spirit of the Bluebird and the inspirational Street Journeys by Tracy Christian. Both left me feeling very moved by the work women are bringing to the film industry. Bravo!
The Sunshine Theatre was a welcome retreat from the 30 C weather that was pulling at our resolve. Momma Jane and I spent the entire morning at the Modern Museum of Art (MoMA), which is hands down my favourite attraction.The humidity was taking us down a notch, leaving us nauseated, docile and cranky.
|Momma Jane, listening to Kraftwerk|
|I stretch my pantyhose too.|
|Interactive installations @MoMA|
|James Rosenquist @MoMA|
|Bent & Broken @MoMA|
|Yep. That's a turd. @MoMA|
|RE: Turd on the floor.|
|Hells yes @MoMA|
Getting back into the heat and wandering around Soho, I had to endure the infamous Ryan Gosling Incident (Read Here) which began the poor mother-daughter relations. Add hunger, exhaustion, and the incompatible shopping needs of a twenty-something and her older-something mom, and we had a level 5 meltdown on our hands.
The great thing about Soho, it's full of people hanging out on the steps of their brownstones, walking cute pooches, falling out of their American Apparel ads and standing aimlessly around, hoping someone will notice them. So we had an audience.
|At NBC, reenacting our throw down.|
I wanted to buy Momma Jane dinner in Soho, soak up the atmosphere and people watch. Momma Jane was fucking over it. She doesn't get the tight pants, the mustaches, the toques in 30 C. She wants the subway, the hotel room, and maybe a cookie. But we're already dangerously hungry. The subway could turn into the Donner Party. So we argue in hysteric dramatics, stomp between the curb and the subway (SIX TIMES!) and remember what really started this? Ryan Gosling.
We finally settle for dinner in Soho, in a 1970's vision of the future bowling alley with white couches that hire the laziest hipsters in matching drop V-neck t-shirts. Food. Meh. Service. Pssh. I won and I lost, all at the same time.