So, I just saw a New Yorker article with "crazy-making" in the headlines. No, seriously. The idiots, they are ascending. I suppose "frustrating," infuriating," "baffling," "stupefying," et al. are no longer sufficient to the task. I suppose those old words simply aren't precious enough for today's erudite journalist and her discerning readers. What was she writing about? I have no idea, 'cause, like, you know - tl:dr.
Did I get that right?
A strange day yesterday. We had to make a run to the market (not the strange part), and then I proofed "Pony" and "Untitled 17" from the galleys for Beneath an Oil-Dark Sea (also not the strange part), and then I began reading The Red Tree for the first time since 2009 (yes, that's the strange part). I've made it through Chapter Two, and I'm making all sorts of little corrections that should have been caught five years ago.
It holds up very well, even if, at times, the degree to which it is autobiographical makes me wince.
This evening, Kathryn and I have a guest flying in from LA. I hope the weather doesn't get so nasty that he has trouble with the drive down from Albany.
Last night, I watched Oliver Stone's JFK (1991) for the first time since, I think, '93. It really is an amazing film, so long as one does not believe that the Jim Garrison actually bested the obfuscations of the Warren Commission and cracked the various mysteries surrounding the president's assassination. It is a masterpiece of dread, of horror, of paranoia that mounts until your ears seem to buzz. The is a distinct tinge of the Weird about its edges. No matter how farfetched the results of Garrison's investigation into the murder might have been or how frequently Stone just pulls stuff out of his ass, the film succeeds superbly as both a macabre political thriller and a portrait of human depravity. And the cast is top notch.
And Stone's idea of creating a "counter-myth" is, I think, fascinating.
And on that note, I should go. I need to trim my nails.