Sunday, July 15, 2018

Good for what ails you

I thoroughly enjoyed this documentary. It restored my faith in America and reminded me why I'm sure we'll survive this Trumpy nightmare. It was also delightful -- well worth $6 to see Ruth Bader Ginsburg watch Kate McKinnon's impersonation on SNL, and oh! The real life love story she shared with her husband! If that doesn't touch you, you're not human.

Reflections on two friends

Friday night I blabbed with my oldest friend. We were on the phone for nearly two hours. We talked about nothing of consequence, really. I don't know how she's feeling physically, or whether Medicaid has helped her get her meds. I don't know how she's doing emotionally or financially. She didn't seem to want to go there, and I didn't want to force it.

Instead we laughed a great deal. We talked about TV, her kids, the Cubs, Frank Sinatra's penis ... I miss her. I don't laugh with anyone like I do with her.

I hope she's OK. I'm going to try to get her on the phone more often. Perhaps I can get her to open up a bit more. And besides, it makes me happy to talk to her, to remind me of the decades-long connection we share.well.

Saturday I saw Joanna with my movie group. I was recovering from a bout of diarrhea, so I didn't join her for drinks afterward. Perhaps I should have, for she looked different to me. Older, smaller and more vulnerable. She's usually so sophisticated, so stylish. It's as though the problems she's had this summer have diminished her somehow. She had to say good bye to both her cat and her dog this year -- such a cruel coincidence -- and I'm not sure her business is doing well. We're meeting up again soon. I'll have to go out of my way to spend some time with her afterward. (And avoid potato salad. I think that the potato salad, while delicious, could have been the culprit that messed with my digestion.)


Saturday, I saw Joan Crawford rock the hell out of a pair of glasses.

My movie group watched Humoresque, a 1945 film starring Crawford as a bored, horny socialite and John Garfield as the gifted violinist she "sponsors." The movie itself was pretty soapy, and since I truly can't stand classical music, the score left me cold. But I loved the lush black-and-white cinematography, and Crawford looked great in frames that she could have ordered from Warby Parker.

The joy I got from this little detail makes me hope I can get myself to The TCM Film Festival this coming spring. It's a wallow for classic film fans, and I think I would enjoy it extravagantly.