What I really felt like quoting was the "Three Women", but it's too long to fit in here comfortably. Do click on the link to read it - it's one of the Plath pieces I that moves me most. ("Favorite" is just not a fitting word here.)
The best moment of the week was me lying in a hammock on a deck in Santa Cruz, the Boardwalk and the ocean in view, absorbing the sun and reading The Sex Issue of Advocate magazine.
I think I need to get a hammock for my backyard. Fitting the ocean within view is going to be tricky, however.
Other stuff I did this weekend:
- went to the movies with my friend Silvia. We went to the freshly opened Camera 12 and saw The Door in the Floor, which is based on the first part of John Irving's "Widow For One Year" (which I haven't read, and want to read now, because I really want to know if and how the story continues). I second Silvia's comments about the sex and nudity in the film. The other thing that struck me was how unlikable I found Jeff Bridges' character, and how much I loved his portrayal of it. And Gawd, I really want that house!
- after the movie, Silvia took off again, and I hung around downtown and kept reading the book I'd bought. See, I'm on a mission to read all of John Le Carré's novels in the order in which he published them. Started with "Call for the Dead", then "A Murder of Quality", and next in line is "The Spy Who Came In From The Cold". But I haven't found it. I stopped at the Willow Glen bookstore a few days ago, but they didn't have it, so I bought Jonathan Carroll's "The Wooden Sea" instead. Yesterday, I was early for the movies, so I ducked into the Waldenbooks in the passage by the Camera 12, but they didn't have it either, so I substituted "Burglars Can't Be Choosers" by Lawrence Block. And I'm done reading both. (Can you believe it? I read two entire novels in one week! I may even write up a review for each of them.) I'll try my luck for Smiley's spy again tomorrow.
Bought the latest Mojo magazine because it promised an interview with Patti Smith. I leafed right to it, skipping over the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Wattstax, Brian Wilson, Franz Ferdinand, and the 100 Tracks That Built L.A.
As I expected, I wasn't disappointed. This 57-year-old poet and punk rocker has lived enough for a dozen people. She's older, wiser, not bitter, and thinks about what she says.
One quote from her interview - which I read last night - hung around my brain all day long today: "By the time I got to the promised land it was already a wasteland."
I wish I could hang out with her over a couple of beers - but short of that, I may go see her in August at the Fillmore or the Catalyst.
And Dream of Life is playing in my head right now. People Have The Power ...
I listened to Garbage most of the day today. I was in a foul mood, and I know myself well enough to realize that I sort of relished it. I wallowed in it. A couple of friends tried to cheer me up, and I told them to leave me alone and let me enjoy my misery - I am so seldom crabby that I wanted to make the most of my one crabby day a year. I wanted to pick a fight with someone, anyone - but I am too chicken to really do that. So instead I just listened to Garbage, and a long list of headbanging metal. And I still feel kind of sullen, but I managed to keep my big mouth shut most of the day, which is an accomplishment not to be underestimated.
You remember when ... Chris Farley was, umh, interviewing Paul McCartney on The Chris Farley Show, and, uh, he'd ask him all kinds of really long questions, and go on and on, and then, uh, how the answer to the question was really always only a yes, and how he never got McCartney to tell a story because, uh, of how he asked the questions, and then, uh, do you remember how he'd start pulling his hair and go, "Awww man, that was so STOOPID!"?
That's me. I want to smack my hand against my forehead so violently that I can feel my brain slosh around in its membranes, and go, "Gaaaawd, that was so STOOOPID! STOOOOPID!"