A Page From My Diary
I got up around 7:30am and was a slug, drinking coffee with the dog in bed and doing the NYT Spelling Bee thing. It feels like it’s supposed to be “good for you” but it’s probably just a waste of time.
Then I worked on a Secret Project with my (Twitter) friend Keith Harris involving the film Home Alone. In the course of working on this project I discovered that John Hughes, producer of this film, was a Reagan Republican. I think this is one of those things everyone in the world already knew. For example, I also didn’t know John LeCarré was still alive before he just died, and I really should have.
In addition to this “discovery” about Hughes’ politics, the subject I now know about from many, many articles, this project also resulted in my reading a 1984 Washington Post column by George Will about Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, a movie I thought was fine when I was 16 but which now I would probably hate. George Will is a famous conservative writer for those of you lucky enough to have never heard of him, and he loved Ferris Bueller’s Day off. Listen:
Ninety minutes later, the discerning movie- (note well: I do not say “film-” or “cinema-”) goer leaves the theater saying: “At last, that is settled. Arguments can rage about whether the second greatest movie is this or that exploration of Scandinavian angst or this or that study of men in black turtleneck pullovers who suffer urban dread in Paris or Milan with women who drink bitter coffee and wear their hair in buns and ceramic earrings they crafted in their backyard kilns. But for those of us who seriously doubt that movies are often serious, it is clear that the greatest movie of all time is showing now at fine theaters everywhere.
What a wanker. I love buns and ceramic earrings. He probably did too. I bet he went to some party at Sally Quinn’s house and lo and behold found himself attracted to a woman wearing ceramic earrings who had a bun, which for George Will in 1984 was probably truly paradigm-shifting experience. He went home and pleasured himself to the memory of her and was like, “I must make fun of women with buns and ceramic earrings in my next column so that this never happens again.”
Is George Will dead? No one knows! I am going to guess — yes?
After I Googled “George Will dead”—he is in fact alive, totally alive—I had lunch, leek and cauliflower soup, and an apple and cheese. I texted with the person I go swimming with, we decided not to swim. It is really too cold right now, even with wetsuits. After that I had to admit there was nothing left to do except some more work. I sat on the couch next to my soft, snoring dog, doing more work on the project about Home Alone that I am doing with Keith which you honestly must be DYING of curiosity about.
Movies We’ve Never Seen: ‘Home Alone’
Well, it delivers on its title. But are these burglars even…real?
I laughed a few times, mostly at things Keith said, and I laughed at my own comments a few times but mostly I was just typing, not thinking. It was a fairly mindless task, like knitting a scarf with thick yarn.
I went for a long walk with my dog at a spot a few miles away. First I walked with a friend, then she left and I walked some more alone. On my walk a dog came up and sniffed my dog, and I was nervous for a second, because my dog can be weird, and then I realized that the dog belonged to a good friend of mine who was standing twenty feet away from me, shouting into her phone. My dog likes her dog, they are the same size and spar well, I had been wondering why my dog was so chill. I waved and laughed and shouted, “Oh my God it’s you!” and she waved frantically to let me know she understood that I had spotted her but that she couldn’t talk to me because she was involved in something.
My dog is a fine walker. She trots ahead, comes back, trots ahead, comes back. No one could accuse her of not getting all her steps in.
Back at home I added potatoes to the soup I’d already eaten because it was a little too “spa food” without them. Then I washed dishes. I wash so many goddamn dishes. I don’t have kids and I have no guests, obviously, and I am always washing dishes. Worse than washing dishes is putting dishes away. I know I should be grateful to be alive, but I still hate it.
After I finished the dishes I made some tea. Then I read the first Agatha Raisin book in the bathtub. A friend told me about the Agatha Raisin TV show, and I thought it was silly at first but then I became addicted. I plowed through them and started in on the books. Much of this pandemic for me has been spent in the bathtub, listening to books, reading books, watching television on my computer on a specially made tub shelf, writing on same shelf, tweeting in the bathtub on my phone. When I am old and tell young people about the pandemic I will tell them I was in the bathtub for a lot of it and they will be like “gross.”
Then T. came home and I gave him some soup and toast. I had more soup, much improved and heartier now. We played the Spelling Bee game together on the couch. “This kind of game drives me nuts,” he said. I said it was a colossal waste of time. Then I played it until I fell asleep. I got to Genius but I didn’t get all the words. I woke up in the middle of the night, after the new puzzle was up and the answers were out, and saw I had missed gill. GILL? Really?