The Luna Park Gazette

And to think I almost watched The Thing again. Last week I stood at a video crossroads as I tried to decide what movie I should watch for my evening’s entertainment. On one hand, I had The Thing from Another World , one of my very favorite science fiction movies that I’ve seen and thoroughly enjoyed God alone knows how many times. On the other hand, there was A Special Day , an Italian film that had gotten good reviews, but which I had never seen before. I knew The Thing would deliver the goods, but the other flick was a total mystery. It might by great or it might suck beyond all description. The only way to find out was to press “play.” I finally decided to step out of my comfort zone and watch A Special Day and I am so glad because I have not enjoyed a movie so much in ages. Released in 1977, A Special Day was directed by Ettore Scola and stars the two cinema legends Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni as neighbors in an apartment building in Rome who mee...

“Running away from your problems is a race you will never win. ” Well, at least this time I was wearing pants. I had a nightmare last week that made my recent nude subway ride dream look like a Bugs Bunny cartoon. I kept my clothes on this time, but my emotions were stripped naked. While the MTA debacle was humiliating and frightening, this latest nocturnal commission was a heart-breaking horror show I wouldn’t even wish on the guy who wrote “Billy Don’t Be a Hero”, and God knows I hate that song. It seems my subconscious saw me reeling from its last poisonous production, declared, “hey, chuckles, you ain’t seen nothing yet!” and delivered the goods, which were quite bad. Is it possible to take out an order of protection against myself? This particular disaster took place in some hotel some place in Westchester. Always usual, I don’t know how I know these facts, I just know. I was there on some work-related matter when I ran into a woman I dated in the Eighties and w...

If this keeps up, the MTA will never let me ride the subways again. It’s Valentine’s Day and what better way to celebrate this day of love then by sharing highlights from my latest screaming mimi nightmare? Well, actually, there are probably dozens of better ways to commemorate this chocolate-scarfing, bouquet-huffing holiday, but first I want to relate the details of this three-act nighttime assault on my psyche by my psyche. This internal affair started off by revisiting a painfully familiar theme that first cropped up in December where I am riding a speeding subway train stark-ass naked. Again, with this? Hey, if I’m going to be tortured by my subconscious, the least my mind can do on behalf of the riding public is come up with some new material. I guess my dark side wanted to stick with something that works, so there I was rattling down the tracks without a stitch. A few women were giggling at me, I was certain it was going to get worse, and I was desperately hopi...

I walked through an elegant mansion this week without ever leaving my home. I’m not referring to an actual structure, of course. Covid-19 has severely restricted my travel plans and I don’t know anybody who owns a mansion. I’m referring to an acupressure point officially known as Kidney 27, but, come on, “Elegant Mansion” just sounds so much better. And, right now, it’s some place I really want to be. The spot is located roughly one inch from the midline on the lower border of the collar bone. The point strengthens the immune system, which is certainly reassuring during these plague days, and it’s also important to me as a card-carrying hypochondriac who has had immune system problems over the years. In addition, Kidney 27 helps with tension, anxiety, worry and depression, all of which have been unwelcomed guests in my life for as long as I can remember. I have a fascination with many so-called alternative therapies, like acupuncture, qigong, Jin Shin Jyutu, and EFT,...

So, there was this day last week when it seemed like all my bad memories were storming the castle. I was working on a tight deadline, I was under a lot of pressure, and my subconscious saboteur responded by mercilessly cranking out all kinds of revolting recollections. “Playing all the hits tonight,” I muttered. I’ve been doing this to myself for the longest time , but I’ve only recently decided to meet this issue head-on. If I’m feeling good, some part of me wants to make me feel bad. And when I’m feeling bad, that evil spirit wants to make me feel worse. This latest incident remined me of an old David Bowie song called “DJ.” Released on Bowie’s 1979 album Lodger , the song was intended as a cynical comment on the cult of the DJ. I was never much of a club goer, so I have little to say in this area, but I did find the opening lyrics eerily prophetic. “ I am home ,” the song begins, “ lost my job and incurably ill… ” This sounds like what a good portion of the worl...

When screen legend Joan Crawford died in 1977, her arch rival, Bette Davis reportedly declared, “you should never say bad things about the dead, only good.” “Joan Crawford is dead,” Ms. Davis continued. “Good.” Can you feel the love? Neither can I. I remember being appalled when I first this heard this story. Obviously these two women had a history and I don’t think anyone expected Bette Davis to crank out some kind words about someone she clearly hated. No, what I found upsetting was the way that Bette David declared her hatred so publicly. Shame on her , I thought. Didn’t she realize how badly her comments made her look? Trashing the recently departed doesn’t do them any damage. It just makes you look like bitter and angry. Well, last week I got the chance to practice what I had been peddling. I learned through a Facebook post that a guy I used to work with in the 1980s and whom I hated with an absolute passion had died at 67 years old. Oh, how I loathed this gu...

Are we tired of the New Year talk yet? I hope not. After last week’s tirade, I thought I would focus this week on some of the things I’d like to work on in 2021. I’ve been looking for a theme for this new year and I think I found it in a YouTube video. Every January I watch several self-help speakers to put me in a positive frame of mind, and this one guy in particular—Les Brown—came up with a line that really spoke to me. Find a way to win. Isn’t that great? Simple, brief, and direct. Five words that tell me to quit complaining, stop making excuses, and get out there and live. Getting out there is going to be a challenge in the Age of Covid and we’ll likely have a long, slow walk back to normal as people get vaccinated. But at least I can get out of my head if I can’t get out of my apartment. This is an on-going process, of course, not bound by the calendar, but I like using this time of the year to breathe life back into my dreams. I’ve been slacking off on t...