Sunday, January 3, 2016

Yuletide Fever Dream



 …A Martha Stewart wild mushroom-spinach lasagna that took $120, three hours, and Guinness (the beer, not Alec) to bring to fruition…

T
he realization that one does not say Aunt Andie died; one says she moved to West Tampa, or Olga the Superstitious Ukrainian won't stay on as the caretaker in Grandma's house. Not sure how they've explained my grandfather's long absence—I suspect he's in Ibiza…

…A poignant appearance by Scott Norwood in Four Falls of Buffalo to remind me
how, and why, it's easy to love Buffalo

More proof t
hat the angry owls are out in full force. …

…My body as smartphone, battery bereft of
Jenny Juice but recharged by hours in repose…

...A disembodiment brou
ght on by the realization that repose is pointless, since FitBit stats show sleep continues to mock me... 

…The salve of the silver screen, via Star Wars, The Hateful Eight, The Revenant
via Rilke's two solitudes instantly connecting in a little coup de foudre called Carol, followed by a New Yorker accompaniment on Patricia Highsmith's The Price of Salt to fill in the blanks
…via the dark humor of Argentina's incredibly satisfying Wild Tales 

…via the quiet humor/desperation of the Swedes' A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence, complete with one of the most horrifying scenes I've ever witnessed. It involved a bronze bull.

...A gunned-down 12-year-old, a dream sequence we can't escape, a family's eternal nightmare.

Tweets and treats at @jenngidman.