Haircut today. A seemingly interminable time listening to the ditzy hairdresser talk about her boyfriend’s opinion of her most recent haircut and her own surprisingly fervent thoughts on the Tom Cruise/Katie Holmes debacle. Now my hair is much shorter and so shiny from the blow-dry that I kept fingering the newly shorn ends as I drove home (be-bopping to the Rolling Stones, natch).

Library trip, during which I looked at impossibly structured but quite beautiful dresses in Vogue and checked out a few books with my war-scarred blue library card. I started reading Jeffrey Eugenides’ Middlesex—I read his Virgin Suicides a while ago and it was disturbingly great—and so far it’s strange, but fantastic. It’s about a Greek-American hermaphrodite…yup. I vaguely recall reading an excerpt of it in the New Yorker a couple years ago, and it’s even better than I remembered.

Also: my sister and I decided that we need to re-read Harry Potters four and five before six comes out July 16th. We’re taking shifts (like Bloomsday!) of reading it aloud, so that one of us can eat/draw/paint toenails/loll while the other reads the book with the requisite over-dramatic dialogue and running commentary. Boy do I know how to have a good time!

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I’ve recently become slightly obsessed with John Currin’s creepily vacant-eyed, exploitive, caricature-ish paintings. (Does that make me a bad person?) I don’t like the exaggeratedly busty ones, though... I like the portraits best--including this first one, which is called "Heartless," heh:

Happy Tuesday, gang!