Steve Martin can do no wrong. Last year I read four of his plays: Picasso at the Lapin Agile, the Zig-Zag Woman, Patter for a Floating Lady and WASP. For Christmas I asked for Shopgirl and am voraciously devouring it, most usually while soaking in the bathtub. I love the way this man writes, and somehow I'm convinced that if we ever met we'd be pals. (Of course, I feel this way about Billy Joel and Steven Page too, so I'm sure I'm just a closet psycho.) One of the things that floor me about Steve Martin is the way he writes about sex... it makes me feel all embarrassed. I mean, I've read a hundred books with a zillion sexual situations and they were written in varying levels of explicitness... but for some reason, Steve Martin just makes me, well, weird. I can't say it makes me hot and bothered, and I can't say it makes me feel icky or dirty or ashamed or jealous or whatever. I dunno. Embarrassed is the only word. Maybe because his descriptions are just so honest and unencumbered by doofy euphemisms... though they don't sound clinical by any means.
Oh well. Either way, sex scenes or not, the man has an incredible gift (many, actually), and I'm very thankful he's sharing it/them with the planet.
I can't think of Steve Martin without thinking of my friend Mac Walsh Age 10. Mac is now 30 or 31, but I can't say "Mac Walsh" without adding "Age 10" on the end of it... which is strange, considering I didn't meet Mac Walsh Age 10 until he was 14 or 15. From what I recall, when Mac Walsh was 10 years old, he wrote his name down on an envelope as "Mac Walsh, Age 10", and when this story was relayed to me in high school, the phrase just kinda stuck.
Anyhoo, apparently when Mac Walsh Age 10 was Mac Walsh Age 5 or 6, the Walsh family was somewhere and they saw Steve Martin. One of his family members said something obvious to Steve Martin, like, "Hey, you're Steve Martin!" and Steve Martin said something back and they had 30 seconds of star-to-fan banter. But in a zany oh-my-goodness-what will-they-think-of-next-those-crazy-kids way that only a 5 or 6 year old can do, Mac Walsh Age 10 Age 5 or 6 said out loud in front of Steve Martin, "Who's Steve Martin?" Hilarity ensued amidst the slightly embarrassed looks from his parents.
Mac Walsh Age 10 had a mysteriously subtle southern accent even though he lived in northern New Jersey his whole life. I wasn't sure where he got it. I took Mac Walsh Age 10 to a Christmas Dance my senior year in high school. I remember driving him home afterwards in my 1979 Chevy Monza and talking about skiing, and also recalling that my freshman year I had gone to the Christmas Dance with Gary Sherman, and we had also talked about skiing on the way home. No kisses for Jill, just banter about a sport I have yet to participate in.
Ahhhhhh, skiing. The universal unwritten symbol of "Dude, er, I mean Jill, I'm not f-ing kissing you, so don't even think about it."
In other news completely, I was listening to the radio-only Democratic debates tonight and I'm totally torn between Joe Lieberman and Howard Dean. I like that Dean's pissed off -- I love a grumpy guy. Passion, anger and adrenaline are three key ingredients to getting crap done-- I know I work most efficiently when I'm really focused and ticked off. I also like that Bill Bradley supports him, because I'm a big Bill Bradley fan. But I dig Joe Lieberman because I like his general style, his demeanor and his Jewishness... though I fear the latter will never get him elected (very sad, indeed).
I've even yelled "Right on!" a few times to Al Sharpton when I saw him on the tee vee-- holy crap can that guy speak. I swear, he could talk me into jumping off a bridge with little problem.
Why'd you have to break all my heart? Couldn't you have saved a little bit of it? Why'd you have to break all my heart? Couldn't you have saved a minor part?