Weird Long Beard Press

For two weeks this summer our neighborhood was transformed into a movie set once again as Nia Vardalos and John Corbett of My Big Fat Greek Wedding were seen daily on Prospect Park West shooting scenes for their upcoming movie, I Hate Valentine's Day . Production began at Terrace Bagels, a neighborhood standby that stayed open to the public so that I was able to get my morning coffee with the minor inconvenience of having to step over a power cord. The next day, however, after picking up my dry cleaning, I nearly tripped over a boom when Nia came storming down the sidewalk shouting reasons why she hated Valentine's when I realized the bum I had taken for granted on my way in was actually an actor. Up close, Nia was thin and reaping the benefit of her professional hair and make-up and I wondered how I might look if a team tended to my appearance with such care, surely better than the usual cross between Charlie Brown and Bob Dylan, who, as it happens, will be performing at

Heavy eyes and brain booze-addled again in a world of magic and tragic ends of meandering man-made waterfalls forged like talent captured by sellout crowds who can define this life of ours by hours of whores and bores and the money honey exchange among the tyranny of bleak bloodshed that will not dwell in the lap of melancholy beauty surrounded by well wishers and sentiments from another year with golden-haired princes arriving at her shore covered in the wretched stink of desperate designer perfume and the unyielding cool of boundless possibilities bound like bosoms in a black brassiere of politics and pendulums that govern brave brains who dare produce light from the electric shock of the fragile mind which beckons like Ahab and Hemingway to chase the invincible Mexican goddess thrashing about in the evening surf amidst the terrible stench of decaying print smothered in hibiscus to kiss the harsh minds and terse verse of a curse cast upon a pallet of pure blond beauty in a pale cockt