Mrs Morrison's Hotel

The 100% personal official blog for Patricia Kennealy Morrison, author, Celtic priestess, retired rock critic, wife of Jim

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Location: New York, New York, United States

I was, wait, sorry, that's "David Copperfield". Anyway, I was born in Brooklyn, grew up on Long Island, went to school in upstate NY and came straight back to Manhattan to live. Never lived anywhere else. Never wanted to. Got a job as a rock journalist, in the course of which I met and married a rock star (yeah, yeah, conflict of interest, who cares). Became a priestess in a Celtic Pagan tradition, and (based on sheer longevity) one of the most senior Witches around. Began writing my Keltiad series. Wrote a memoir of my time with my beloved consort (Strange Days: My Life With and Without Jim Morrison). See Favorite Books below for a big announcement...The Rennie Stride Mysteries. "There is no trick or cunning, no art or recipe, by which you can have in your writing that which you do not possess in yourself." ---Walt Whitman (Also @ and

Friday, March 02, 2007

Oscar Post-game

I didn’t go to MDFs Mary and Steve’s Oscar party in LA this year because I was down with a bad, bad head and chest cold and it had got all into my inner ear and as a result I was walking like Jack Sparrow. (Captain. CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow.) So a plane ride was right out.

Therefore I watched the awards from bed, with heaps of pillows and a fleece blankie and a patchwork shearling coverlet and Vicks Vapo-rub (I am addicted to that stuff, the camphor/eucalyptus makes me feel so comfy and six years old again) and ice cream and chicken soup and all the rest of the accouterments of bed rest.

Not so impressed, really. Of the nominated movies, I had seen only “The Queen”, which was amazing and Dame Helen so deserved to win. There were no really great gowns. There were no really awful gowns. There was absolutely no good jewelry, which lack I most bemoaned.

I was glad to see Marty Scorsese win, even though I hate all his movies. And it was nice to see his good pals Francis and George and Steven up there. Almost as if they knew….hmmm.

I did, however, think it was the most boresome, snoozeful, excruciating slooooooow-paced show in recent memory. No big awards till the end. Stupid opening. Stupid montages. And Ellen De Generes, who is by no means stupid, but she is guilty of that TV-person-hosting-the-Oscars sensibility. It’s not your show, Ellen! (Any more than it was Letterman’s, when he hosted…) She made it small and unfocused and cutesy and just plain dull. And I was so looking forward to something fun to take my mind off my respiratory troubles.

Ah well. Next year.


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