Forgive me father, for I have sinned. It’s been more than a week since my last blogfession. If I skip therapy for a week or so, I then scan my mind for important events my shrink might need to know about. Did anyone I love die, or hurt me in an even more malicious way than death? Did I have any jarring sexual experiences? Usually the answer is no and so I just complain about the sliding door between my sister’s bedroom and my own until it’s time to go home. When I next get on the couch, we can talk about the fact that I’ve had this blog for just one week and it’s already a focal point of guilt and obligation!

Mostly, I just wish I was a natural-born blogga’ like Tavi, the wildly precocious preteen fashionplate I spotted front row at the Peter Jensen show. Cuz’ if you didn’t know, it’s fashion week– the week when Manhattanites stop going every place in sweatpants and Sketchers and get serious about their looks!

Here is a video of Tavi rapping about her love of affordable designer capsule collections.

And here is me giving mad Myspace-face in my new Peter Jensen dishrag/turban hoodie.

It’s from his Laurie collection (spring 2010.) Despite her penchant for making me twitch with rage, my mom is also my muse so I get where he’s coming from. This is one of my favorite projects she’s ever been a part of.

So time flies when you’re having fun. And by fun I mean slathering apples with almond butter and watching the incomparable Lance Edmands conform pro-res quicktime footage so that the kind color-correction fairy can subtly tweak the grays and blues and maybe erase the flaming zit that decorates my cheek for half of Tiny Furniture.

The movie is reeeaally close. We have our SXSW screening times and the trailer is forthcoming. So very thankful and excited to return to Austin with the gang, and to share even more festival news soon. Gotta’ love this moment– when you’ve made a movie but no one has seen it yet. The blissful years of ignorance before you realize your child is either sleazy or bo-ring.

Meanwhile, my Ishtar VHS finally arrived and I held the long-promised viewing party! I had hoped to procure Ethiopian food (as my friend C. Mason Wells says, any cuisine that uses food as a utensil is a-ok) or do some internet research and learn to make babaganouge. Or maybe even learn to spell babaganujzg. But some last minute technological pwnage left me without the time or inclination, so Ishtar was the party and the party was Ishtar.

Well, Siskel and Ebert did not like it one bit.

But we liked it! That movie is so much better than our culture’s collective memory would have you believe. Some true LOLs and ROTFLs, and a zany can-do spirit that is rare to see– and odd, since it sounds like everyone on that set wanted to knife-rape each other! It’s all explained in the Peter Biskind Beatty Bio, excerpted in last month’s Vanity Fair Magazine.

I will leave you with this tremendous clip of Nichols & May in action.