The first tingly, muscle-ache sensations of Covid were felt Friday morning. I went through it ayearago so I know the deal. Yesterday I took a Covid test…bingo.
It took me four days to get through it last December so I’ll probably be out of the woods by Monday evening.
Right now I feel so depleted that the mere thought of sitting up and writing something is exhausting.
12:25 am, Monday: I can feel the Covid starting to weaken, dissipate. The worst seems to be over.
9am, Monday: Digital temperature gauge reads 98.4.
This morning’s recovery made think of Keith’s “98.6.” I shouldn’t need to remind, of course, that it’s no longer acceptable to address or refer to a girlfriend as “baby.”
This is a very, very bad indication of where James Cameron's Avatar 2 may (I say "may") be coming from. I literally gasped when I read the headline quote. I'm genuinely scared now. Testosterone in and of itself is not evil or toxic -- it's grade-A rocket fuel that gets certain characters up the hill and onto victory. Cameron is talking a woke game now but God help us if he really means this. Please God, don't let Avatar 2 be woke...please.
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From Quentin Tarantino‘s “Cinema Speculation“: “Steve McQueen as Frank Bullitt keeps moving forward while Peter Yates, the director, follows him here and there as we, the audience, sit back and let them do our thinking for us. As pure cinema, Bullitt is one of the best directed movies ever made.”
Dozens of families were out and wandering around in Wilton Center early last night. It was cold but not too cold. There were handing out free cups of steaming alcoholic cider and hot chocolate. I could smell the campfire smoke on my overcoat when we got home.
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I was ready to move past the Jeanne Dielmann / Sight&Sound thing, but then I came upon a Todd Alcott Facebook riff that completely ignored the fact that the voting was largely political and that the system was almost certainly massaged and gamed.
Thisnotionwasarousedwhen Jordan Ruimypostedalink to Brian Jacobson’s L.A. ReviewofBookspiece about the S&S poll (12.2), which had a vague “smoking gun” feeling.
First Alcott, then me and then Alcott’s progressive female Facebook pallies, who seem to think that I hate Chantal Ackerman’s 1975 film (I’m not that much of a fan but I don’t hate it) or that I don’t get it because of my gender (Iunderstandexactly what it’s about and what the strategy is).
Todd Field‘s TAR was won the New York Film Critics Circle’s Best Film trophy — fine. But the Best Director prize has gone to RRR‘s S. S. Rajamouli, which is somewhere between a taunt and absolute lunacy.
Earlier: The sometimes nutty-as-a-fruitcake New York Film Critics Circle, the once-esteemed org that used to award each and every award based upon merit, has handed its Best Supporting Actress trophy to Nope‘s Keke Palmer**.
The Banshees of Inisherin‘s Kerry Condon is easily the most deserving contender in this category.
And the NYFCC’s Best Supporting Actor award has gone to Ke Huy Quan (aka “Short Round”) of Everything Everywhere All at Once. HE approves of the Best Cinematography award going to Claudio Miranda, the dp of Top Gun: Maverick. Martin McDonagh‘s The Banshees of Inisherin has won for Best Screenplay — HE approves of the dialogue but not the bloody finger stubs.
Breaking at 1 pm eastern: Colin Farrell has won the NYFCC’s Best Actor award, a decision that I’m totally fine with. And the brilliant Cate Blanchett has won Best Actress trophy for TAR. Okay, the NYFCC is awarding for merit after all, Palmer and Rajamouli aside.
** Not a single Gold Derby handicapper has even mentioned Palmer’s performance, which was basically about projecting her Millennial Diva personality.
[Initially posted on 6.20.12] Ever since seeing my first image of the Matterhorn when I was eight or nine I’ve wanted to stand in its shadow and just go “whoa.” So yesterday the guys and I drove the wrong way (i.e., four hours over winding mountain roads) from Lauterbrunnen to Zermatt, the affluent ski town that lies at the base of it.
The trip turned out to be mostly a disaster. Because of an innocent mistake I almost got slammed with a 350 Swiss franc traffic ticket — thank God I was able to talk my way out of it.
The signs on the long and winding approach to Zermatt fail to explicitly point out a basic fact — you can’t drive into town unless you’re a resident or a cab driver or a city worker. You have to park in Tasch, an ugly little settlement about six kilometers north of Zermatt, and take a train or a taxi in. Fine, no problem, but there are no signs that clearly say this, and certainly none in English.
When I see a sign that says “park here,” I say to myself, “Okay, that’s an option, fine. It’s not something I necessarily intend to do as I am the sole master of my fate, but it’s nice to know it’s there.”
HE suggestion to municipal Zermatt brainiacs: The words “Non-resident passenger vehicles are not allowed in Zermatt” would definitely be understood if you said as much on a road sign. Or how about an image of a car with a big red X or a circle slash across it?
A well-fed Zermatt cop in his 30s pulled me over and explained the rules. He asked how I could have missed the sign that explains about parking in Tasch and taking the train or a cab, etc.? I didn’t want to argue by telling him that the traffic-sign people are imbeciles so I just said I’d made an innocent mistake. “You have to pay a fine of 350 francs for this!,” he declared in English. I held myself in check, took a breath and said, “Well, I don’t think that’s very fair. I don’t read German very well and while I fully accept and respect the laws here, I just didn’t realize that driving into Zermatt was 100% verboten…really, honest mistake.”
The cop could have said “tough shit” and fined me anyway, but for some reason he took pity and let me skate…whew.
The guys and I felt so turned off this episode that we decided to just flush that awful town out of our systems and drive to Bern instead.