Beth Kaplan's Blog, page 82
April 21, 2020
Is this Tuesday?
Another day, another dollar. LOL.
Dealing with difficult landlady issues today, requiring some hours of figuring out. One of my least favourite but most necessary jobs.
A Zoom piano lesson - remarkably successful. The computer perched on a stool next to the piano - there's Peter's face taking it all in - and I play for him. I can even show him the music if there's an issue. And I much prefer playing my piano to his. Another win for Zoom.
Spent some time trying to clear the detritus from my desk and ending up, of course, reading old letters and diary entries. Sent a screenshot to my friend and writing student Curtis - my daytimer from February 1979, when I went to see him about a professional matter and noted it. Sent a diary excerpt to old friend David, with ensuing correspondence. Had a long Skype with Lynn in Provence. The French are much stricter than Canadians about isolating. She and Denis are worried about their far-flung family, including a daughter-in-law who has Covid and has been weeks recovering. But L and D themselves are well, and she is baking. Mmm.
Then a quick walk around the 'hood, aperitif with Monique and Kathy, and dinner - leftover steak and potatoes.
Otherwise, one of those days - maybe it was the cold, the hailstorm this afternoon - when I didn't want to do much, except eat chocolate and drink wine and troll online and marvel at this strange new world we all inhabit.
I have not mentioned the tragedy in Nova Scotia. What to say? Another angry white male lunatic causing unimaginable pain. Horrifying and incomprehensible.
And I have not mentioned that yesterday was my friend Wayson's 81st birthday. Would that he were here to celebrate it. Except that with his lungs, he probably would not have been.
The New Yorker says it all, as usual:
Dealing with difficult landlady issues today, requiring some hours of figuring out. One of my least favourite but most necessary jobs.
A Zoom piano lesson - remarkably successful. The computer perched on a stool next to the piano - there's Peter's face taking it all in - and I play for him. I can even show him the music if there's an issue. And I much prefer playing my piano to his. Another win for Zoom.
Spent some time trying to clear the detritus from my desk and ending up, of course, reading old letters and diary entries. Sent a screenshot to my friend and writing student Curtis - my daytimer from February 1979, when I went to see him about a professional matter and noted it. Sent a diary excerpt to old friend David, with ensuing correspondence. Had a long Skype with Lynn in Provence. The French are much stricter than Canadians about isolating. She and Denis are worried about their far-flung family, including a daughter-in-law who has Covid and has been weeks recovering. But L and D themselves are well, and she is baking. Mmm.
Then a quick walk around the 'hood, aperitif with Monique and Kathy, and dinner - leftover steak and potatoes.
Otherwise, one of those days - maybe it was the cold, the hailstorm this afternoon - when I didn't want to do much, except eat chocolate and drink wine and troll online and marvel at this strange new world we all inhabit.
I have not mentioned the tragedy in Nova Scotia. What to say? Another angry white male lunatic causing unimaginable pain. Horrifying and incomprehensible.
And I have not mentioned that yesterday was my friend Wayson's 81st birthday. Would that he were here to celebrate it. Except that with his lungs, he probably would not have been.
The New Yorker says it all, as usual:
April 20, 2020
just like normal, only not
Very sunny but a chill wind. Many daffodils. The 'hood is extremely quiet. I feel guilty that I am not chronicling this new world in articles, only here. But then I read this and it made me feel better:
We read a lot about writers who have a “butt in chair” philosophy, who crank out a minimum of 1,000 words every day rain or shine. If you are one of them, I am genuinely happy for you — and for me, because I get to read your books on a regular basis. But I’m also here to reassure people who don’t work this way that they are not alone. Sometimes it’s impossible to get writing done, especially for those of us who have other work to do, including care work for our children or parents. And sometimes, like now, the world is so in flux that our brains are filled with static and we can’t hear our own thoughts. At these times, surviving daily life is enough to occupy every corner of our consciousness.EMILY GOULDNo kidding.Sam came over yesterday. Last week when he wanted to come I said yes but he'd have to stay outside. This week, I wanted very much to see him; he lives alone, misses work and friends, walks the city. We maintained distance as best we could. He cooked a fabulous meal - grilled steak with smashed potatoes infused with roasted garlic, grilled cucumbers - I didn't think they were a thing, but they are - and onions caramelized with red wine. Am I a lucky woman? The kitchen smelled like heaven. We ate outside like normal people in a normal world. My neighbour Jean-Marc is condemning me right now, I'm sure. How to balance caution with good sense? How to balance our most basic human need for contact and communication with our need to survive a hideous unseen menace?
We read a lot about writers who have a “butt in chair” philosophy, who crank out a minimum of 1,000 words every day rain or shine. If you are one of them, I am genuinely happy for you — and for me, because I get to read your books on a regular basis. But I’m also here to reassure people who don’t work this way that they are not alone. Sometimes it’s impossible to get writing done, especially for those of us who have other work to do, including care work for our children or parents. And sometimes, like now, the world is so in flux that our brains are filled with static and we can’t hear our own thoughts. At these times, surviving daily life is enough to occupy every corner of our consciousness.EMILY GOULDNo kidding.Sam came over yesterday. Last week when he wanted to come I said yes but he'd have to stay outside. This week, I wanted very much to see him; he lives alone, misses work and friends, walks the city. We maintained distance as best we could. He cooked a fabulous meal - grilled steak with smashed potatoes infused with roasted garlic, grilled cucumbers - I didn't think they were a thing, but they are - and onions caramelized with red wine. Am I a lucky woman? The kitchen smelled like heaven. We ate outside like normal people in a normal world. My neighbour Jean-Marc is condemning me right now, I'm sure. How to balance caution with good sense? How to balance our most basic human need for contact and communication with our need to survive a hideous unseen menace?
April 19, 2020
One World
Hard to believe that now the most interesting things I have to tell you are about death-defying trips to the grocery store. BOUGHT CHEESE! STILL ALIVE! So far so good.
Bill Maher seems to be shrinking steadily, as he does his Friday night show from his garden and house. A moving discussion with Andrew Sullivan, author and pundit, who told us he's been HIV positive for 18 years and has bad lungs as well, so this virus would be a death sentence for him. He lives alone, hasn't left his apartment for months, and is facing what might be another year of total isolation. Hard to imagine.
Because my ventures outside feel like a necessity of life - yesterday, a walk in the fresh air to Riverdale Hill and back, and then aperitif with Monique and her friend Kathy, who now drives over from the Beach every day at 5.30 to have a drink with us. Human contact. What's so brutal about this is that everything we are and do as social animals has to be put aside for survival. Even walking on the sidewalk, going to great lengths, literally, to avoid my fellow walkers, feels wrong.
Interesting news: I'd written last week to a hybrid publisher, a longtime publishing professional who will only accept certain manuscripts and will then take the book through the publishing process, with editing, design, and distribution that the writer mostly pays for (and of course gets most of the profits. Profits - LOL!) He'd expressed interest in seeing the ms. but then I sent it to another publisher. Yesterday, I saw the first guy had included a P.S. I hadn't seen - that he thought my face and name were familiar, perhaps we'd met in Vancouver. I wrote back I'd been an actress there from 1975 to 1980, perhaps he'd seen me in a show. He replied that he'd been living in Vancouver then, married to an actress, and had gone to lots of theatre, so yes. At this point we felt like buddies so I decided what the hell and sent him the ms.
One hour later he wrote back that he'd skimmed it and wanted very much to publish it, would reduce his fee to make that possible.
Much to finalize, so nothing is set yet. He needs to read the whole thing, and I need to study the contract. But it was the first time in the long journey of this manuscript that a publishing professional said yes, an enthusiastic yes at that. What a welcome change. So - we'll see.
Then I watched Cypress Avenue from the Royal Court Theatre. What a treat to be able to see great theatre from around the world on my laptop. A brilliant, hilarious, horrifying play - highly recommended.
Last night, the One World concert, musicians in their homes playing for us in a fundraising tribute to essential workers. How they produced such a complex show without a hitch - phenomenal. Keith Urban sitting with his guitar singing for us, and then another Keith Urban walks into the room playing another kind of guitar and joins the first, and then a third. The Rolling Stones, from their separate homes, playing our oldest new anthem, "You can't always get what you want." I sang the choir harmony.
And my Macca - impeccable as always in a black vest - how I love that he always wears vests as I do too. Not his best night - "Lady Madonna" a challenge for his solo voice and played with a strange new rhythm. But he delivered a heartfelt talk beforehand about his mother Mary, a nurse and midwife, how we should urge our politicians to support health care everywhere. The whole show was a rebuke of Trump, of course, with much mention of the vital work of the WHO.
It's Barbara's birthday today; she would have been 70. She was my penpal from 1962 until her death in 1966, after heart surgery to repair the hole in her heart with which she was born. When my family visited England on the way to and from our year in France in 1964, I went to visit her several times. She was always upbeat, curious, lively. Her death when she was 16 and I was a few months younger devastated me. She has never left me. 11 years ago, I reconnected with her family, and now her younger sister Penny is a good friend. You're missed always, Barbara, or Babs, as she wanted to be called.
Babs when we first met
In hospital, wearing the wig she loved, with a fashionable flip.
It's also Auntie Do's birthday. She would have been 100. We hoped to celebrate with her and receive a letter from the Queen. She nearly made it.
A gloomy Sunday morning turned into a sunny afternoon. Worked all morning on a long manuscript sent to me by a former student. Soon, a movement class, and later maybe a distanced visit from my son. He is a hugger, as am I, and we cannot hug. It hurts, physically and psychically. I miss my family and friends, as do we all. But - c'est la vie.
Bill Maher seems to be shrinking steadily, as he does his Friday night show from his garden and house. A moving discussion with Andrew Sullivan, author and pundit, who told us he's been HIV positive for 18 years and has bad lungs as well, so this virus would be a death sentence for him. He lives alone, hasn't left his apartment for months, and is facing what might be another year of total isolation. Hard to imagine.
Because my ventures outside feel like a necessity of life - yesterday, a walk in the fresh air to Riverdale Hill and back, and then aperitif with Monique and her friend Kathy, who now drives over from the Beach every day at 5.30 to have a drink with us. Human contact. What's so brutal about this is that everything we are and do as social animals has to be put aside for survival. Even walking on the sidewalk, going to great lengths, literally, to avoid my fellow walkers, feels wrong.
Interesting news: I'd written last week to a hybrid publisher, a longtime publishing professional who will only accept certain manuscripts and will then take the book through the publishing process, with editing, design, and distribution that the writer mostly pays for (and of course gets most of the profits. Profits - LOL!) He'd expressed interest in seeing the ms. but then I sent it to another publisher. Yesterday, I saw the first guy had included a P.S. I hadn't seen - that he thought my face and name were familiar, perhaps we'd met in Vancouver. I wrote back I'd been an actress there from 1975 to 1980, perhaps he'd seen me in a show. He replied that he'd been living in Vancouver then, married to an actress, and had gone to lots of theatre, so yes. At this point we felt like buddies so I decided what the hell and sent him the ms.
One hour later he wrote back that he'd skimmed it and wanted very much to publish it, would reduce his fee to make that possible.
Much to finalize, so nothing is set yet. He needs to read the whole thing, and I need to study the contract. But it was the first time in the long journey of this manuscript that a publishing professional said yes, an enthusiastic yes at that. What a welcome change. So - we'll see.
Then I watched Cypress Avenue from the Royal Court Theatre. What a treat to be able to see great theatre from around the world on my laptop. A brilliant, hilarious, horrifying play - highly recommended.
Last night, the One World concert, musicians in their homes playing for us in a fundraising tribute to essential workers. How they produced such a complex show without a hitch - phenomenal. Keith Urban sitting with his guitar singing for us, and then another Keith Urban walks into the room playing another kind of guitar and joins the first, and then a third. The Rolling Stones, from their separate homes, playing our oldest new anthem, "You can't always get what you want." I sang the choir harmony.
And my Macca - impeccable as always in a black vest - how I love that he always wears vests as I do too. Not his best night - "Lady Madonna" a challenge for his solo voice and played with a strange new rhythm. But he delivered a heartfelt talk beforehand about his mother Mary, a nurse and midwife, how we should urge our politicians to support health care everywhere. The whole show was a rebuke of Trump, of course, with much mention of the vital work of the WHO.
It's Barbara's birthday today; she would have been 70. She was my penpal from 1962 until her death in 1966, after heart surgery to repair the hole in her heart with which she was born. When my family visited England on the way to and from our year in France in 1964, I went to visit her several times. She was always upbeat, curious, lively. Her death when she was 16 and I was a few months younger devastated me. She has never left me. 11 years ago, I reconnected with her family, and now her younger sister Penny is a good friend. You're missed always, Barbara, or Babs, as she wanted to be called.
Babs when we first met
In hospital, wearing the wig she loved, with a fashionable flip.It's also Auntie Do's birthday. She would have been 100. We hoped to celebrate with her and receive a letter from the Queen. She nearly made it.
A gloomy Sunday morning turned into a sunny afternoon. Worked all morning on a long manuscript sent to me by a former student. Soon, a movement class, and later maybe a distanced visit from my son. He is a hugger, as am I, and we cannot hug. It hurts, physically and psychically. I miss my family and friends, as do we all. But - c'est la vie.
April 17, 2020
covid day 4,672,918: my drag queen life
Today, up at 6, out to NoFrills at 8 - almost empty - for a few essentials like milk. Couldn't resist - though I don't need it, I added a pack of toilet paper to my cart. If a large gang of incontinent people come to stay, I'm ready.
Nap, already exhausted, at 9. At 11, Gina's line dancing, and at 2, meeting Debra for a walk around the 'hood. She has sewn me a mask, a snazzy mask made of blue Marimekko material with pipe cleaner inside that you can bend to follow the lines of the face. So cool!
The rest of the day, editing. Eating chocolate, drinking wine, editing, and then the ms. went out one last time. The second the last 'no' comes in, it's going to a hybrid publisher who's lined up. Enough already.
Started to watch National Theatre Live's Treasure Island, but it was just too noisy. Have to say that sometimes, having women play male roles doesn't work. Here, I found those poor actresses howling their lines to be heard; it hurt me to listen to their high strained voices. So instead, I'm going to try to clear some of the 85 emails in my inbox.
To close, a family album: Anna took the first shot at the lake this morning, where she goes early each day with her two puppies and one of their friends, to run them:
My sources tell me that Linda McCartney died on this day, April 17. She was an interesting woman, a nice Jewish girl from New York who had a great life and was much loved by her husband and children. She's holding baby Mary and Paul has his arm around Heather, Linda's daughter by her first marriage, whom Paul adopted. Mary is a photographer who was recently asked to photograph the Queen; Heather is a potter, and daughter Stella is a famous fashion designer. Not bad for a bunch of kids raised on a farm in Scotland.
And this one was sent today by Lani, who's in the middle, between me, the tall one, and Annabel, the other one, with Al, Andy and Simon behind us. El Grande de Coca Cola was an extremely goofy show about an indigent family from Central America who put on an absurd circus act to try to make money. These were taken as we were on our way to pose for publicity shots. I know, I look like a drag queen. But - look at those gams. I was 26. Sigh.
Nap, already exhausted, at 9. At 11, Gina's line dancing, and at 2, meeting Debra for a walk around the 'hood. She has sewn me a mask, a snazzy mask made of blue Marimekko material with pipe cleaner inside that you can bend to follow the lines of the face. So cool!
The rest of the day, editing. Eating chocolate, drinking wine, editing, and then the ms. went out one last time. The second the last 'no' comes in, it's going to a hybrid publisher who's lined up. Enough already.
Started to watch National Theatre Live's Treasure Island, but it was just too noisy. Have to say that sometimes, having women play male roles doesn't work. Here, I found those poor actresses howling their lines to be heard; it hurt me to listen to their high strained voices. So instead, I'm going to try to clear some of the 85 emails in my inbox.
To close, a family album: Anna took the first shot at the lake this morning, where she goes early each day with her two puppies and one of their friends, to run them:
My sources tell me that Linda McCartney died on this day, April 17. She was an interesting woman, a nice Jewish girl from New York who had a great life and was much loved by her husband and children. She's holding baby Mary and Paul has his arm around Heather, Linda's daughter by her first marriage, whom Paul adopted. Mary is a photographer who was recently asked to photograph the Queen; Heather is a potter, and daughter Stella is a famous fashion designer. Not bad for a bunch of kids raised on a farm in Scotland.
And this one was sent today by Lani, who's in the middle, between me, the tall one, and Annabel, the other one, with Al, Andy and Simon behind us. El Grande de Coca Cola was an extremely goofy show about an indigent family from Central America who put on an absurd circus act to try to make money. These were taken as we were on our way to pose for publicity shots. I know, I look like a drag queen. But - look at those gams. I was 26. Sigh.
April 16, 2020
hooray for Zoom
Taught my home class on Zoom tonight, and it worked perfectly. Six student friends and moi - as we do when we meet here, we chatted first and got caught up, then they read and we critiqued, as always. The big difference - I didn't have to clean the house beforehand, and though I actually put on a bra and respectable top, on the bottom half were sweatpants and my hideous fluffy slippers that no one can see. Good to work with you all again, my friends.
My bum is as ever asleep after an entire day of editing and then teaching. I barely moved. Not healthy, but I want to get this manuscript out so nothing else matters till it's gone on its way once again. Talked on the phone with Chris, my editor, having a profound philosophical discussion about colons, semi colons, and commas, followed by a meeting with the CNFC group on Zoom.
No, I'm forgetting that I did venture out, in my mask, to the Epicure deli for 2 loaves of sourdough bread and some cheese - my favourite creamy delicious Quebecois cheeses, comfort food - and then when I passed NoFrills there was no lineup so I dashed in for essentials - Tangelo oranges, lettuce, onions, endive, a big bag of avocados. That's my daring adventure for today. Still alive, so far.
It's funny how extreme things can be - from days floundering around on FB, Twitter, and YouTube to sitting all day getting a manuscript in shape. I look forward to some floundering time soon, but more importantly to moving this poor body, which has had too much chocolate and wine and bread and cheese. But also sunshine - it was cold but sunny today, so my computer and I followed the sun around the house.
As a dear friend of mine once said, Here comes the sun. And I say, it's all right.
My bum is as ever asleep after an entire day of editing and then teaching. I barely moved. Not healthy, but I want to get this manuscript out so nothing else matters till it's gone on its way once again. Talked on the phone with Chris, my editor, having a profound philosophical discussion about colons, semi colons, and commas, followed by a meeting with the CNFC group on Zoom.
No, I'm forgetting that I did venture out, in my mask, to the Epicure deli for 2 loaves of sourdough bread and some cheese - my favourite creamy delicious Quebecois cheeses, comfort food - and then when I passed NoFrills there was no lineup so I dashed in for essentials - Tangelo oranges, lettuce, onions, endive, a big bag of avocados. That's my daring adventure for today. Still alive, so far.
It's funny how extreme things can be - from days floundering around on FB, Twitter, and YouTube to sitting all day getting a manuscript in shape. I look forward to some floundering time soon, but more importantly to moving this poor body, which has had too much chocolate and wine and bread and cheese. But also sunshine - it was cold but sunny today, so my computer and I followed the sun around the house.
As a dear friend of mine once said, Here comes the sun. And I say, it's all right.
April 15, 2020
Notre Dame rings her bell
Today's adventure: the procurement of wine. Crisis - nearly empty wine rack! Of course I have a secret stash of a few good bottles, gifts saved for a special occasion that I do not want to drink by myself tho' would if necessary. But Monique got organized, ordered 2 dozen bottles of red for us and another friend, made sure it was ready, and drove us there. She waited in the car while I, wearing my mask, lined up outside for ten minutes as the security guard let us in one by one. Inside, a quick grab of a few other bottles (including a Prosecco for the next time I need to celebrate something and a rosé in case it gets hot, LOL), getting the cases, everyone in a mask, the store nearly empty.
It's surreal, all of this, how fast society changed. Bizarre.
Now I have lots of wine. Thomas arrived today with more chocolate from Anna, canned peaches, tangerines, cheese, cookies. I will not starve. Though tomorrow, a new crisis: bread. Unlike most of my peers, it seems, I will not deal with sourdough starter. I'm a busy woman and wish to purchase my bread.
I did Jane Ellison's exercise class via Zoom, and then edited all afternoon. Chris and I often disagree about commas and semi-colons; I spend a lot of time arguing with him in my head. It's sunny but surprisingly cold; spring is everywhere, but slow, as always. B.C. is way ahead of us. Aperitif with Monique was cold but fun; her old friend Kathy now drives from the Beach to join us for Happy Hour, as she calls it, sitting six feet away apart on Monique's deck while I loom above and look down on them like a reigning monarch. Kathy is a public health nurse and knows a lot about viruses, though we end up, as we drink, talking woman to woman - men, marriage, life. It's a gift. Even in the cold.
I wept at one point today. Jane always puts on music for us to dance to, and as I danced alone in my kitchen, with the sun shining through the skylights, I wept for our past life, how carelessly we lived, how much we took for granted, how limited we are now. I'm not sad, not at all, but startled and moved at how quickly life can be completely rearranged.
It's one year since Notre Dame burned. Last year on April 15 I was in Paris with Lynn, went the next day to see Our beautiful Lady and to mourn, the smell of smoke in the air, hundreds standing around in tears. Today her last remaining bell rang to honour the anniversary. Last year a monument to Western civilization burned. Today the whole world is paralyzed and terrified. What lies ahead? No one knows.
It's surreal, all of this, how fast society changed. Bizarre.
Now I have lots of wine. Thomas arrived today with more chocolate from Anna, canned peaches, tangerines, cheese, cookies. I will not starve. Though tomorrow, a new crisis: bread. Unlike most of my peers, it seems, I will not deal with sourdough starter. I'm a busy woman and wish to purchase my bread.
I did Jane Ellison's exercise class via Zoom, and then edited all afternoon. Chris and I often disagree about commas and semi-colons; I spend a lot of time arguing with him in my head. It's sunny but surprisingly cold; spring is everywhere, but slow, as always. B.C. is way ahead of us. Aperitif with Monique was cold but fun; her old friend Kathy now drives from the Beach to join us for Happy Hour, as she calls it, sitting six feet away apart on Monique's deck while I loom above and look down on them like a reigning monarch. Kathy is a public health nurse and knows a lot about viruses, though we end up, as we drink, talking woman to woman - men, marriage, life. It's a gift. Even in the cold.
I wept at one point today. Jane always puts on music for us to dance to, and as I danced alone in my kitchen, with the sun shining through the skylights, I wept for our past life, how carelessly we lived, how much we took for granted, how limited we are now. I'm not sad, not at all, but startled and moved at how quickly life can be completely rearranged.
It's one year since Notre Dame burned. Last year on April 15 I was in Paris with Lynn, went the next day to see Our beautiful Lady and to mourn, the smell of smoke in the air, hundreds standing around in tears. Today her last remaining bell rang to honour the anniversary. Last year a monument to Western civilization burned. Today the whole world is paralyzed and terrified. What lies ahead? No one knows.
the gene
Tuesday: I've always tried to keep my email inbox at 30 or less. At the moment, there are 92, many of them demanding to be read at length. Help! Of course, read some news, so I see that Obama and Sanders have endorsed Biden. Please God may it help. And that the orange blowhole is disintegrating daily. When will they pull the plug? How terrifying that a vindictive lunatic has such power, that his party will not stop him.
Truly, the days fly by and I can hardly remember a time when I went out, shopped, went to the Y on the streetcar - the streetcar! Met friends and family, went to movies - movies! And plays and concerts, with all those people, all those germs. Heedless, we all were, of the infinite danger on all sides.
Today, most of the day sitting in a chair going over edits - a very long process, as each one has to assessed and accepted or rejected. I got through one pass and am now going through again. Hardly moved all day. Not healthy, just sitting.
Tomorrow, crisis - wine is needed. Monique and I decided to try some kind of communal wine run, though I hear the lineups are massive.
Last night, after Jane Eyre, it was My Brilliant Friend, only I'm not enjoying it as much - the passions of these young women are getting repetitious. But I will stick with it.
My bum has gone to sleep.
Wednesday morning: 99 emails. Like bottles of beer on the wall.
Last night, the second half of the show about genes on PBS - riveting. They spoke about the work of two French biologists, Jacob and Monod, and I swelled with pride - my dad worked at the Institut Pasteur in Paris several times, working with Jacob, and loved it. How he would have marvelled at the human genome project, genetic engineering, and most of all, the cures they are finding for genetic diseases. How I wish I could tell him.
Onward.
Truly, the days fly by and I can hardly remember a time when I went out, shopped, went to the Y on the streetcar - the streetcar! Met friends and family, went to movies - movies! And plays and concerts, with all those people, all those germs. Heedless, we all were, of the infinite danger on all sides.
Today, most of the day sitting in a chair going over edits - a very long process, as each one has to assessed and accepted or rejected. I got through one pass and am now going through again. Hardly moved all day. Not healthy, just sitting.
Tomorrow, crisis - wine is needed. Monique and I decided to try some kind of communal wine run, though I hear the lineups are massive.
Last night, after Jane Eyre, it was My Brilliant Friend, only I'm not enjoying it as much - the passions of these young women are getting repetitious. But I will stick with it.
My bum has gone to sleep.
Wednesday morning: 99 emails. Like bottles of beer on the wall.
Last night, the second half of the show about genes on PBS - riveting. They spoke about the work of two French biologists, Jacob and Monod, and I swelled with pride - my dad worked at the Institut Pasteur in Paris several times, working with Jacob, and loved it. How he would have marvelled at the human genome project, genetic engineering, and most of all, the cures they are finding for genetic diseases. How I wish I could tell him.
Onward.
April 13, 2020
Must see: National Theatre Live, Jane Eyre
Cannot wait until tomorrow to tell you - I just spent the evening entranced, watching one of the most brilliant pieces of theatre in my long history of theatre-going: Jane Eyre, produced by the National Theatre, directed by Sally Cookson. Extraordinary, the best kind of theatre, done imaginatively on a simple set - those poor actors, like squirrels, racing up and down ladders and ramps - with musicians on the stage and a small cast playing multiple parts, including, unforgettably, Mr. Rochester's dog.
What a gothic story, first of all, to come out of the imagination of the isolated Charlotte Brontë. What a desolate path she creates for her passionate, steadfast heroine.
The scene in the play, before she knows he loves her and before he knows she loves him, when she cries out her pain and grief and desperate love - she thinks he is sworn to another - took my breath away. And the final moment ... I burst into sobs.
It's that good. And it's free, on YouTube. Such pure artistic treasure doesn't come often, and you get to watch it free, in your own home. Incredible. Don't miss it.
As someone wrote on the comments, If there's a silver lining to this pandemic, it's the opportunity to see wonderful productions like this that people wouldn't otherwise experience. Thank you. Watching this lifted my weary spirit.
Mine too. Yes - thank you.
What a gothic story, first of all, to come out of the imagination of the isolated Charlotte Brontë. What a desolate path she creates for her passionate, steadfast heroine.
The scene in the play, before she knows he loves her and before he knows she loves him, when she cries out her pain and grief and desperate love - she thinks he is sworn to another - took my breath away. And the final moment ... I burst into sobs.
It's that good. And it's free, on YouTube. Such pure artistic treasure doesn't come often, and you get to watch it free, in your own home. Incredible. Don't miss it.
As someone wrote on the comments, If there's a silver lining to this pandemic, it's the opportunity to see wonderful productions like this that people wouldn't otherwise experience. Thank you. Watching this lifted my weary spirit.
Mine too. Yes - thank you.
robins galore
You know who is really enjoying life, as humans withdraw? Robins. Huge fat robins everywhere, beaks stuffed with nesting material and worms. My guess is a bumper crop of robins this year.
Just now my tenant, whose name happens to be Robin, was in his office, aka the spare room, as I headed to my office, aka my office, and he asked if I had a nice Easter. What to say? Sure. I ate down to the midriff of my solid chocolate bunny. Made a big chicken stew using my last veggies and stuff from the freezer. We did our first family Zoom meeting - my kids in their separate Parkdale apartments, their father in Washington D.C., and me, the little boys popping in and out, amazed to see all those faces on the screen at once. Amazed for a second or two, but then off outside for more exertion. Anna spoke wistfully of a friend with 2 little girls who love to sit and read. Sigh.
Last night, the usual Sunday overload on TV with a difficult choice - Call the Midwife or the last episode of Prime Suspect. I chose Jane Tennison, to watch her battle alcoholism and her usual mistakes, as she alienated her family and befriended a tough young girl who turned out ... I won't say, in case you get to see it. People have been asking about it; if you have Rogers, they've given us free movie channels 487, 8 and 9, for now. Some good stuff there. I started to watch a new drama on PBS but in the first five minutes there was a ghastly murder and then another, so I turned it off. Not in the mood for Romanian psychopaths. Instead watched some of a remarkable 3-hour doc on TVO - a boat cruising the Rideau Canal from start to finish, no voices, just scenery and birds with an occasional animation of how that section looked 100 or more years ago. Lovely and tranquil, much needed.
Though I can imagine my kids saying, "You watched WHAT?!"
And then not tranquil - John Oliver. The way these hosts have simply kept going from their living rooms with almost no staff - admirable.
Today is exciting; I received the edits from my editor, friend, and former student Christopher Cameron, a very fine writer himself. He is extremely picky about things, which is just what you want in an editor, even if occasionally I am a little bit miffed by his notes. I was SURE that was right, and it turns out it was not. Or, occasionally, it was. We debate things like should capital letters in French have an accent, did e.e. cummings actually want his name in lower case, and other issues riveting only to writers and their editors.
And so, to work, on this mild, drizzly day. May you all be safe and well with lots of worms and nesting material, wherever you are.
Just now my tenant, whose name happens to be Robin, was in his office, aka the spare room, as I headed to my office, aka my office, and he asked if I had a nice Easter. What to say? Sure. I ate down to the midriff of my solid chocolate bunny. Made a big chicken stew using my last veggies and stuff from the freezer. We did our first family Zoom meeting - my kids in their separate Parkdale apartments, their father in Washington D.C., and me, the little boys popping in and out, amazed to see all those faces on the screen at once. Amazed for a second or two, but then off outside for more exertion. Anna spoke wistfully of a friend with 2 little girls who love to sit and read. Sigh.
Last night, the usual Sunday overload on TV with a difficult choice - Call the Midwife or the last episode of Prime Suspect. I chose Jane Tennison, to watch her battle alcoholism and her usual mistakes, as she alienated her family and befriended a tough young girl who turned out ... I won't say, in case you get to see it. People have been asking about it; if you have Rogers, they've given us free movie channels 487, 8 and 9, for now. Some good stuff there. I started to watch a new drama on PBS but in the first five minutes there was a ghastly murder and then another, so I turned it off. Not in the mood for Romanian psychopaths. Instead watched some of a remarkable 3-hour doc on TVO - a boat cruising the Rideau Canal from start to finish, no voices, just scenery and birds with an occasional animation of how that section looked 100 or more years ago. Lovely and tranquil, much needed.Though I can imagine my kids saying, "You watched WHAT?!"
And then not tranquil - John Oliver. The way these hosts have simply kept going from their living rooms with almost no staff - admirable.
Today is exciting; I received the edits from my editor, friend, and former student Christopher Cameron, a very fine writer himself. He is extremely picky about things, which is just what you want in an editor, even if occasionally I am a little bit miffed by his notes. I was SURE that was right, and it turns out it was not. Or, occasionally, it was. We debate things like should capital letters in French have an accent, did e.e. cummings actually want his name in lower case, and other issues riveting only to writers and their editors.
And so, to work, on this mild, drizzly day. May you all be safe and well with lots of worms and nesting material, wherever you are.
April 11, 2020
all good
The best thing I can tell you about today is that I'm still alive and so is everyone I know, at least, of the people who were alive last week. They're all still alive. That's really good news. Also, the sun was shining. My daffodils are up, bunches of them in the garden, bless their yellow heads. There's a pot of pink tulips and a vase of blazing forsythia in my kitchen. The chocolate is very good, including the solid chocolate bunny that was delivered by Soul, the small local place, whose ears I have devoured.
The peanut butter is very good. I eat it by the teaspoon.
Covid routine: an hour walking around the 'hood with Ruth, six feet apart, mostly with me in the middle of the street and her on the sidewalk. Luckily there aren't many cars. I gave her a pot of homemade jam, and she gave me some homemade soup. We discussed recommendations for movies to watch. She recommends Paddington, not just for children, she says, it's clever and charming, I'll love it. I'm sure I will and it's on my list, as soon as I get through Inspector Jane Tennison, who takes up much of my evening. Tonight, she was relentless in exposing a Bosnian mass murderer working for the British government. The government and the bosses are almost always stupid and wrong in this show. She also sleeps regularly and without apology with someone on her team. She's prickly and stubborn and rarely wrong, except about men. Mesmerizing.
Deck to deck aperitif with Monique at 5.30, the CBC radio news at 6. Dinner. Television.
My ex-husband's birthday tomorrow. Poor man, running a huge theatre complex in the States, 3 theatres, hundreds of staff, no idea when things will start again, a wife with serious health issues and a young daughter home from school. Not his best birthday. We will try to Zoom tomorrow with our two kids here - see if it works.
My GST rebate arrived today. I donated it to FoodShare Toronto. I wish I could do more.
I'm sorry, this is dull. But what matters is - I'm alive to write this, and you to read it. Onward.
The peanut butter is very good. I eat it by the teaspoon.
Covid routine: an hour walking around the 'hood with Ruth, six feet apart, mostly with me in the middle of the street and her on the sidewalk. Luckily there aren't many cars. I gave her a pot of homemade jam, and she gave me some homemade soup. We discussed recommendations for movies to watch. She recommends Paddington, not just for children, she says, it's clever and charming, I'll love it. I'm sure I will and it's on my list, as soon as I get through Inspector Jane Tennison, who takes up much of my evening. Tonight, she was relentless in exposing a Bosnian mass murderer working for the British government. The government and the bosses are almost always stupid and wrong in this show. She also sleeps regularly and without apology with someone on her team. She's prickly and stubborn and rarely wrong, except about men. Mesmerizing.
Deck to deck aperitif with Monique at 5.30, the CBC radio news at 6. Dinner. Television.
My ex-husband's birthday tomorrow. Poor man, running a huge theatre complex in the States, 3 theatres, hundreds of staff, no idea when things will start again, a wife with serious health issues and a young daughter home from school. Not his best birthday. We will try to Zoom tomorrow with our two kids here - see if it works.
My GST rebate arrived today. I donated it to FoodShare Toronto. I wish I could do more.
I'm sorry, this is dull. But what matters is - I'm alive to write this, and you to read it. Onward.
