Hiroshima, Mon Amor

Now, I'm all in favor of mixed marriages. Ebony and ivory. One world. One people. Many gifts from many lands. But sometimes you just have to admit when it's not working. There may just be built-in tensions. Her family was in a Japanese internment camp. His family put them there. Maybe it wasn't meant to be after all. Maybe the karma isn't right and the chakras are the wrong color. I don't know much about feng shui, but you can arrange your vases all you want and stick them in your power corner and you're not going to erase this house's strong sense of ugly. Separately, the two halves of this house may work. Together, they say "we hate each other." In fact this house is saying "We hate ourselves. You think you don't like this house. Try and live here. You try and be comfortable traipsing around in a kimono and high-button shoes." They may have tried to make it work once. I mean how many Victorian homes have you seen topped by Japanese tile? Or spare Japanese facades slathered in stucco? But the magic ended, the music stopped and they just decided to coexist in mutual hostility. This is the Kim Basinger / Alec Baldwin of houses. Next thing you know one half of this house is going to release an audio tape of the other half of this house calling their architect a "pig". That would be bad. Accurate, but bad.