in my cd player... The Magnetic Fields 69 Love Songs All of them. Every last one.   on the page while I'm eating dinner... The Washington Post   on the page while I'm in the bathtub... Joseph Epstein Narcissus Leaves the Pool: Familiar Essays   on the page just before bed... Lewis Carroll Alice in Wonderland When I was a child, my parents used to take turns reading to me from Alice in Wonderland before bed. Last week I fell asleep atop the open book with the bedside light on three nights in a row. I think I'm conditioned. I may have to move this reading to another time during the day. Perhaps while I'm standing.   atop my head... chaos bound by two red lacquered chopsticks   project greenlight... I watch this HBO series documenting the making of indie film by a first time director with fond memories. It truly takes all the magic out of the magic of movie-making... something that happened to me four years ago when I signed on to work on an independent film. Though they don't exactly have a Scott Keyes in their art department or some man urinating near their sets, they do capture all of the back stabbing and pettiness and power trips and craft-service nightmares that indie films are all about. What I don't get is why the producer doesn't sit in the Grip truck all afternoon and impersonate Stephen Hawking and Ed McMahon. That was my favorite part of the whole experience.   putting off... taking down my Christmas tree... because I mean, just look at him. He's perfect. And if you look very, very closely, you can see Rasta Santa in the bottom middle of the frame. Such a treasured glimpse of the most perfect ornament ever. Just ask my mom.