It’s Just A Question Of Time…

…now that I’m officially done with this semester of school I feel like I can actually step away from mi Espanol libro y classe and see what else is happening around me. I have a long over-due date with free-time.

Me: “Hello world, how ya’ doing?”

World: “I’m great, Neve, thanks. I’ve missed you though.”

Me: “Yes. I know. I’ve missed you too. How can I make it up to you, baby?”

World: “I’ll think of something.”

Me: “Sounds intriguing. Should I come over?”

World: “Yes.”

My social life has suffered greatly because of my heavy work load these past few months, but I’m ready to get back into the social saddle and hopefully spend some of this extra free time by reading, writing and catching some fabulous flicks this summer, like these two gems below that I’m currently re-arranging my new free-time schedule around so I can see them:


Gigante: Uruguay/Argentina/Germany/Spain, 2009, Adrián Biniez -
While working his usual night shift, a shy, lonely, 35-year-old supermarket security guard falls for a 25-year-old cleaning woman he spots on a store surveillance camera. He continues to watch and follow her—at the store, to the cinema, to the beach, even when she’s on a date with another man. But will he ever speak to her? This unpretentious gem won three major awards at the 2009 Berlin Film Festival.

Britain, 2009, Jon Amiel-
Real-life couple Paul Bettany and Jennifer Connelly play Mr. and Mrs. Charles Darwin in “CREATION”, a new period drama by British director Jon Amiel (The Singing Detective, Sommersby). In the movie the famed naturalist tries to strike a balance between his revolutionary theories on evolution and the relationship with his devoutly religious wife, who doesn’t share his beliefs.

Free, free, free
Neve Black

Boom Boom

I finally watched the film Sandra Bullock won an Oscar for this year, The Blind Side.  

Ahem. I was disappointed.

I know a lot of people really enjoyed this movie, but for me, it was too Hollywood-esque, complete with loads of high-five’s, and clichéd feel-good moments, which reminded me of a store bought card, which often lacks originality and depth. Ouch. I know. Sorry.

I suppose I blame the director’s vision, or lack of it for what I consider to be very disappointing on my discerning cinematic eyes. I feel somehow the direction missed the beauty that was brewing just below the surface and if he had scratched a little harder, it really could have shined. I can see the potential, but it just didn’t quite make the cut, in my opionion. I kept waiting for the profound depth to be uncovered, you know, the kind of message that the Academy looks for, but instead each scene was even more cliché than the last. Disappointing. 

God, I hate giving bad reviews. I probably see close to a hundred films each year: some are good and some bad.  I rarely if ever mention the bad ones. “If you have nothing good to say, then don’t say it” as the saying goes and I try and stick to those words, but…this film won an Oscar for best actress, thus I felt like I should review it. And honestly if I didn’t feel so strongly about the fact that the film really had no business being nominated for an Oscar in any category, I wouldn’t have said anything.

I wish I could recommend this film, but I can’t. I found it to be, well, disappointing. Finally, it’s important that I mention that I love Sandra Bullock. I think she’s beautiful, funny and I respect her as an actor, but there is no way she should have won in this category. Not for this film and certainly not up against Helen Miren for her performance in The Last Station. Come on!

Okay, so to make up for my not very nice review of the film, I want to share two new cool finds with you. 1. I found Welcome Mats made from 100% recycled flip-flops (can you believe it?) 2. I found this really cool idea: Boom-Boom Cards. Yes, as a matter of fact I will be sending a nice boom-boom message out to Sandra Bullock.



Chicka-Boom Boom
Neve Black

The Unconscious Trip

I should be studying Spanish tonight, really, I SHOULD, but instead I’ve been surfing various URLS – perusing trains, planes, and cycling routes in both countries of Argentina and Chile.  I may not be fully aware of it, but it seems as if my unconscious-self is planning a big trip. And it appears that I’m headed to South America.


Oh, wait, now my conscious-self has awoken and is letting my unconscious-self know that these plans had better include tango’ing in Argentina before jumping onto a bike and traversing through Patagonia to see lakes, gauchos, llamas and the Andes. Furthermore, she adds, she’s up for a country cycling adventure, because she had such a great time in Spain, but there had better also be some scenic train rides, hot showers, delicious, ethnic food, hot looking men/women, bold, vino tinto and cosmopolitan fan-fair during this trek into these Spanish speaking lands. 

Ahem. I need to get back to studying. Really. I. Do.  I’ll post more later as these unconscious-self pre-planned trip notes once we all get the okay from my conscious-self.




Neve Black

Orgasmic in San Francisco

Update: two short stories penned by moi have recently been accepted into two separate anthologies:


My story, Animal Inside can be found inside Rachel Kramer Bussel’s Orgasmic Anthology. You can pre-order a copy at Amazon (select link). I’ve been telling Rachel for months that I want to schedule a trip to NYC to play in the city and read at one of her monthly In the Flesh  series, so now…I have no excuses. Road trip to NYC!



My story, The Piano will be inside the pages of  M. Christian’s Sex in San Francisco Anthology. I will relay more details on ordering a copy of this anthology when it becomes be-cums available.

p.s. I have one more announcement to make in the up-and-cumming weeks, but not until the contract ink is dry. Stay tuned.


Neve Black

Physics and David Lynch

The 2001 hit, Mullolland Drive played at my local art house film venue this weekend and unfortunately I missed it. Damn. The good news is, someone I know that’s also crazy about film let me borrow their copy, so I snuck away for 2.5 hours this weekend, opened some wine and re-visited this classic Lynch film.

Gods. I. Love. This. Film.

It’s not just the hot sex scene between my beloved, Naomi Watts and her amnesic lover, Laura Harring that’s well, fucking hot, or  the incredibly moving audition scene, which in my opionion probably launched Ms. Watts’ cinematic career…but it’s more, you see, it’s Lynch’s love for physics. Yes, physics. Let’s face it, David Lynch’s films are double-themed: psycho-noir thrillers runnning in a race with parallel universes. And hey, what’s not to love about that? Let’s not forget the music in his films is always amazing and I’m captivated to the point of film-noir obsessed with his characters. I didn’t use the term, beloved when describing the lovely Naomi above without good reason, folks. I love her. She is probably my favorite femal actor.

This week, one of my FB friends noted that this is the 20th anniversary for Lynche’s successful television series, Twin Peaks. It will come as no shock to you when I confess over my steaming cup of “black as midnight on a moonless night” coffee and a “slice of cherry pie” that I was one of the millions addicted to Twin Peaks those mere 20 years ago. I lived in Seattle while the show aired and in proper Dale Cooper form, I would try and locate the filming location: the falls, the deep woods, the actual town…it was all right there, but I could never actually find it. Upon retrospect I think Lynch could have been filming in another universe. No really. It makes perfect sense, doesn’t?

On that light note, have a great day skipping between universes, but beware of men wearing cowboy hats, midgets, missing ears, crazed-looking men, small, red velvet rooms…I’m just saying….

Neve Black

Neruda as my Co-pilot

Below is the poem I wrote as my ode to Spain, using Neruda’s voice as my co-pilot:


Nostrils fill with Sherry, sweet garlic, fresh cilantro and lime, its tapas time. The ocean breeze, the cobblestone streets, old set against new. My heart beats fast, the wind blows sultry heat, and I know this city is mine. The Mediterranean beckons me with its deep, rich blue. Miro, Gaudi, Picasso and Dali – footprints of talent, yes sublime. The toros are playing, the crowd cheers Ole’, and I know later restaurants will be serving stew. White, lattice chair sits below my cheeks; the sun warms my face as I sip Spanish wine. I write my thoughts next to a ancient church with its giant steps of stone and take in the view. Soon I will say, adeo to my city by the blue sea, because for now this place is only part-time -


It actually sounds better when translated into Espanol. ;-)


Neve Black

Pablo Neruda…


can you hear my heart racing from where you are? God, I love that man. Yeah, I know he’s dead and everything…details, details, but I remember the very first time I read his work – it was the first time I had my Spanish poet cherry popped. I was a high school freshman; wide-eyed and ridiculously impressionable, but damn his words sang to me so softly and so sweetly, like nectar that drips from the tips of a honey bee’s wings.  

I was far too immature to really fully comprehend and understand Mr. Neruda’s deep passion, but I remember reading and falling madly in love with his odes to simple things. And his love of nature spoke to me – nature girl here – surfing nearly every morning before school, riding my bike everywhere, or just sitting on the beach and letting the sun kiss me all over, while the sea-salt wind tossled my long, blond hair.   

Anyway,  I recall the goose-pimpled flesh I instantly felt after reading his words. I also remember looking at my boyfriend at the time and wondering, “why don’t you write things to me just like Mr. Neruda writes? I would pur like a kitten (meow) all the time if you did.”

I wonder if that’s what I’m still searching for in a partner? Is my perfect lover one that can write poetry for me like Pablo Neruda? What do you think? Is that aiming too high? Do you think my expectations are unrealistic? Be honest.  Here’s a quicky first date conversation with me and my potential Pablo Neruda writer:

Me: Can you write?

Them: Yes.

Me: Good. No, scratch that, great!

Them: sips on alcoholic beverage and thinks about ordering a shot while hoping and praying  this grilling session will lead to hot sex.

Me:  Okay, next question. Do you know who Pablo Neruda is/was?

Them: Shakes head in a YES.

Me: You do? Yah!

Them: rolls eyes and wonders if all this questioning will ultimately lead to hot sex.

Me: Okay…here’s the next and final question. Do you think you could pretty please write a love poem for me like Neruda?

Them: Silence.

Me: Check please.

Of course I’m joking here. Sort of.

I’m sure you’re wondering why in the world I have this major hard-on for Pablo Neruda right now? Legitimate question. Part of my culture  assignments in la classe de Espanol is to write a poem using Mr. Neruda style as a outline.  Oooh, la, la. I’m thrilled for the challenge and while everyone else in class was grumbling about having to write a poem, I was secretly cartwheeling inside. I’m not much of a poet (not at all actually), but this is quite an honor and it gives me the opportunity to revist one of my truly favorite poets of all time. After all, it’s Pablo Neruda that has set the dating bar for me -

Now, you know you’re not going to get out of this blog post without a reference to a film, right? Please, I beg of you to rent the film, Il Postino, which is based on Neruda’s life when he lived on a remote Island off the coast of Italy after he was exiled from Chile. It’s simply a gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous film:


I’m off to write a poem Neruda would be proud of -
Neve Black