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,