Skip to main content

Ten Things I Learned This Year

(1) Exercise is meant to be a form of self-care. I learn this, then forget, then learn again. It seems to me, the more you can view the treadmill as a means of self-"pampering", the better off you are. The alternative is feeling impatience and self-disgust, i.e. WHY AM I NOT SEEING RESULTS RIGHT NOW? That doesn't get me far. 

(2) Guy de Maupassant wrote novels. Who knew? I thought it was just short stories. One of his novels, "Like Death," is creepy and sad, and also lets you imagine the kind of wonder with which GDM likely viewed the world. (That said, GDM died young, having attempted suicide at least once, and he was plagued by complications from syphilis.)

 (3) If you're making a stir-fry, less is more. The bell pepper bits need only 1 minute. Just 1!

 (4) An apology is a wonderful thing. Yesterday, I spoke sharply to my spouse, which was not a big deal, but then in my head, I thought and thought about how tightly-wound I am at Christmas, and how allowances should be made because of this. And then a light went on. Nonsense, Daniel. You are an adult. You do not need allowances. Put on your big-boy pants. And choirs of angels sang!

(5) People like to hear their own names. Unless you're doing it in a cloying, I-just-want-your-business way. Then, people will see through you and resent you for your transparent attempts at manipulation.

 (6) Low-key is best. Most things at work do not require sirens and red alarms, and even if you're *feeling* sirens on the inside? If you can pretend to be suave, like Campbell Scott, that's a good idea.

(7) Alice Walker is an anti-Semite. Who knew? Roxane Gay knew, apparently.

(8) I still like the stories of Junot Diaz. What can I say? He sounds like a bully. And: He writes extremely well.

 (9) Manhattanites are stylish and pretty. This becomes much, much more apparent once you have moved to South Orange. You enter Manhattan on the weekend, and it's as if you were a visiting alien.

(10) Critics can err. Have some skepticism regarding the aforementioned Roxane Gay on Harper Lee. Also, note that "The Man who Came Uptown," "Elevation," "Caddyshack," and "Chasing Hillary" are missing from almost all "Best Of" lists this year. Would I choose one of these--or would I choose "The Witch Elm," which *did* make many critics' lists? I think you know my answer.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...
3 comments
Read more

The Death of Bergoglio

  It's frustrating for me to hear Bergoglio described as "the less awful pope"--because awful is still awful. I think I get fixated on ideas of purity, which can be juvenile, but putting that aside, here are some things that Bergoglio could have done and did not. (I'm quoting from a survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of the Church.) He could levy the harshest penalty, excommunication, against a dozen or more of the most egregious abuse enabling church officials. (He's done this to no enablers, or predators for that matter.) He could insist that every diocese and religious order turn over every record they have about suspected and known abusers to law enforcement. Francis could order every prelate on the planet to post on his diocesan website the names of every proven, admitted and credibly accused child molesting cleric. (Imagine how much safer children would be if police, prosecutors, parents and the public knew the identities of these potentially dangerous me...
1 comment
Read more

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...
1 comment
Read more