— Rented Zodiac. It’s fantastic – just as good as everyone says. See it.
— Had another one of my 700 dollar hair cuts and colors on Saturday (only, you know, I got it for free, cause of the whole stylist connection). I got to visit my dear long-lost love Mohammad, whom I have mentioned before – who again – gave me the best scalp massage I have literally ever received when he washed my hair. I melted into a puddle of butter on the salon floor. How come when I massage my own scalp it doesn’t feel like that? The eternal question.
— I took a very weird nap on Saturday – from 5 to 7:30. ?? Then I fell asleep at 11:30 pm and slept all the way through until 9:30 a.m. This is interesting to no one but me, I realize. I obsess over my sleep. What does it mean, what signals is it given me … I NEVER nap. And I almost never over-sleep. Tired. Exhausted (up in the head).
— Watched Something’s Gotta Give on Saturday night, after my weird nap. Loved it as much as I always do. Cried my 100,000th tear of the week. Honestly. When will it end. But like I said to David Something’s Gotta Give was good tears. Cathartic, rather than … well. The other kind of crying.
— I’m trying to figure out what I want to read this year. I have a TBR book stack a mile long. Books carried over from not only last yeaer but 3rd grade. I have 2 books from Lisa for my birthday that I am dying to read – I started them over Christmas, but then got distracted from them because it was hard to read that Christmas week. More to be read: I think I’m finally going to read War and Peace
But now finally the Sun, on Monday the 4th of May, has risen;–unconcerned, as if it were no special day. And yet, as his first rays could strike music from the Memnon’s Statue on the Nile, what tones were these, so thrilling, tremulous of preparation and foreboding, which he awoke in every bosom at Versailles! Huge Paris, in all conceivable and inconceivable vehicles, is pouring itself forth; from each Town and Village come subsidiary rills; Versailles is a very sea of men. But above all, from the Church of St. Louis to the Church of Notre-Dame: one vast suspended-billow of Life,–with spray scattered even to the chimney-pots! For on chimney- tops too, as over the roofs, and up thitherwards on every lamp-iron, sign- post, breakneck coign of vantage, sits patriotic Courage; and every window bursts with patriotic Beauty: for the Deputies are gathering at St. Louis Church; to march in procession to Notre-Dame, and hear sermon.
Yes, friends, ye may sit and look: boldly or in thought, all France, and all Europe, may sit and look; for it is a day like few others. Oh, one might weep like Xerxes:–So many serried rows sit perched there; like winged creatures, alighted out of Heaven: all these, and so many more that follow them, shall have wholly fled aloft again, vanishing into the blue Deep; and the memory of this day still be fresh. It is the baptism-day of Democracy; sick Time has given it birth, the numbered months being run. The extreme-unction day of Feudalism! A superannuated System of Society, decrepit with toils (for has it not done much; produced you, and what ye have and know!)–and with thefts and brawls, named glorious-victories; and with profligacies, sensualities, and on the whole with dotage and senility,–is now to die: and so, with death-throes and birth-throes, a new one is to be born. What a work, O Earth and Heavens, what a work! Battles and bloodshed, September Massacres, Bridges of Lodi, retreats of Moscow, Waterloos, Peterloos, Tenpound Franchises, Tarbarrels and Guillotines;–and from this present date, if one might prophesy, some two centuries of it still to fight! Two centuries; hardly less; before Democracy go through its due, most baleful, stages of Quackocracy; and a pestilential World be burnt up, and have begun to grow green and young again.
Read the passage again. And then read it again. The ENTIRE BOOK is like that. Every page a lament of horror, a cry for justice, a howl of grief – in that type of language. You never get a break. It is a deep rich historical pool – full of terrifying Dante’s Inferno images … anyway. But still. It is slow-going, man! I am determined to finish it.
— I’ve got some political books I’m reading. The more strident the better. I have been so … well, whatever. I can’t take introspective writing right now. I’ll move in that direction again … but for now, I need to hear some screams of outrage – from both political parties. Even if I think those who are screaming have screws loose all over the damn place, I find their frenzy strangely comforting. It’s refreshing to be around stupid people sometimes.
— When I’m ready to leave the shrieking politicos behind, I’m going to re-read James Salter’s A Sport and a Pastime: A Novel
— A couple pictures I have always loved below the jump.
Paul Newman in class at The Actors Studio
Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward, newlyweds
I just started War and Peace. I’m about 20 chapters in, which is a drop in the bucket. So far I’m really enjoying it.
Yay! You’re inspiring me! I think I need to just START.
Well, you have inspired me in so many ways- most notably to own my weird passions! So I am glad to urge you on in a small way.
Oh, yes, read War & Peace! And perhaps I’ll reread it, too. I haven’t read the thing since 7th grade, so I’ve forgotten quite a bit.
Reading Salter’s memoir now – oddly enough I’ve never read any of his fiction.
Happy (slightly belated) New Year, Sheila! And with as many serendipitous mentionings as you’ve made in this post, I can’t help thinking (knock on wood) we’re off to an auspicious start.
First of all, “Light Years” is probably one of the best books I’ve read in the past five years–and is certainly on my “Top Something” list. I was a wreck after reading that. The scene where Ned comes back to his empty house after seeing Ibsen’s “The Master Builder?” I think I had a slight heart attack while reading that. Unbelievably powerful. That whole book is like a column of light, each sentence almost literally like a tiny, multi-faceted diamond, shining such focused rays in eternal directions. And I’ve been meaning to read more of him ever since–can’t believe how long I’ve gone without actually doing it. Onward, upward, then: will now put Salter on the nightstand.
Second of all (speaking of nightstands), your claim about (your) sleep patterns being possibly fascinating only to you may be true, but the fact that you mention it on a night when I just got done talking with a friend about how I think our culture has conspired to make people think that being able to sleep is an earned privilege–as opposed to a natural and highly indvidual need or appetite (e.g., your differing needs at differing times)–bodes well for my own resolution (ahem…) to try generally to get to bed at a decent hour each night. I make this vow mainly so I don’t continue to risk feeling like a crazy person on those mornings when I discover that the previous night was the one when I really needed some decent z’s and didn’t get them–more and more of a liability, I’m finding (e.g., earlier today).
Lastly: War and Peace, baby! Go for it. I’ve been staring at that book spine myself with deep guilt for decades now. And this year’s the year! No more putting it off. That too: onto the nightstand it goes. As for your toss-up, why not aim for both? If anyone could do it, it’s you. Are you thinking “Red & Black”? “Charterhouse…”? Not that I’ve read either of them, but, once more, am forever meaning to. Oh so many words, so little time!
(and by the way, if you really want to put a wrench in things, start off with Jeffrey Eugenides’s “Middlesex,” which I just tore through over the weekend. Really a fun, rip-roaring, can’t-put-this-mofo’ing-thing-down. But also quite moving. Maybe you’ve already read it…)
Trying not to be a bother, but really can’t help myself. Any talk of War and Peace always reminds me of the old Woody Allen joke:
I just finished the Evelyn Wood Speedreading course. I can read War and Peace in 7 minutes.
It concerns Russia.
Jon – I have not read Middlesex but it is on my TBR list. I have no idea how I skipped that one, originally – it got such fantastic reviews (not just in the papers but from all my friends who’ve read it) … just one of those books I missed along the way.
I am so thrilled to read you were as blown over by Light Years as I was. There were quiet moments in the book (like at the end, with the turtle in the woods) where I felt so … Basically what I want to say is: the book stunned me, and sometimes it was a barely pleasant sensation … Like, it affected me PERSONALLY. I’m almost afraid to read it again. He is SUCH a good writer.
And I’m thinking, in terms of Stendahl – Charterhouse. I just read an essay about it (in Anne Fadiman’s wonderfully edited collection Re-Readings – where 17 different authors write essays about books they once adored, and then … going back and re-reading it … It’s a wonderful book – sometimes they look at the book they once loved like: “How on earth did I think that was so awesome?” But other times, it’s like meeting up with an old friend.) Anyway, one of the essays (I forget by whom) is about Charterhouse – a book he absolutely TORE THROUGH as a college student … and the way he wrote about it made me think: Hmmm. Need to pick this one up, pronto.
Looks like it would be a quicker read than War & peace though!
Dan – I must read that memoir. He’s got an old-school gruffness mixed with a lyrical writing style that is truly original … he’s marvelous, I think. You should check out A Sport and a Pastime, definitely – but Light Years, too. Woah!!
totally non-academic war and peace story: Pop was driving dad to the cape (maybe to visit mum? someone will have to clarify) and Pop insisted on going 20 miles per hour the ENTIRE way. (i think that he, like dad, didn’t drive much) So dad is suffering through this and begins a dialogue:
Dad: “Dad, I started and finished a book on our drive.”
Pop: “Oh, yeah? what was it?”
Dad: “War and Peace.”
Hahahaha I remember that story!!
A Sport and a Pastime, by James Salter
It’s been years since I read this classic novel, but it’s been on my radar again – ever since Larry wrote an evocative post about reading James Salter’s memoir (I mention Larry’s post here – sadly, the link to his…