/me rushes email
jotapé dearest
i'm still not fully-recovered from our fully-chaperoned weekend-date. i don't care if you don't believe me, but i had lots of fun. out with poligamy, in with celibacy. i'm sorry i never got around to asking for your hand in marriage, as i was too busy standing in awe of your parents. it was like being in class (awesome), and i mean that as a compliment. i know nothing. i'm jealous, i'm in love. i don't blame you at all. you think they will marry me? i'm also officially afraid of high-discharge toilets forever.
so let's do tomorrow. tupper bambi at four, right? there's free blazing saddles at eight, preceded by a $1 gay film festival film: a comedy or something that doesn't seem particularly interesting or gutwrenching. alternatively, mother has stolen dvd copies of charles chaplin's the great dictator and (better yet) lars von trier's the idiots. wanna do them, do each other?
i honestly have to start putting together opinions when reading. starting today. i guess my laissez-faire neutrality comes from my "i don't do literature" motto of yore. so, starting right now: i say the hours, the book, was not particularly good. it had pretty nice moments, but it remained just that, never curdling into a whole. for one thing, the whole 20th century clarissa dalloway thing was pretty unidmensional, although i really enjoyed how (spoiler warning) the carriage-that-may-or-may-have-not-have-been-carrying-the-queen incident translated into the trailer-that-contained-a-filmstar-that-may-or-may-have-not-been-actually-meryl-streep. ha. i don't think the book would have made much sense to those poor souls who have not read mrs. dalloway. so i declare the whole experiment flawed, the results mediocre. then again it took me like five chapters to even notice that the whole thing is persistently written in the present tense, so it may be my fault. don't hate me for being trained to focus on signified, not signifier. still, it's only a two-afternoon read, so it's no big loss. and i swear that when i watched the movie i TOTALLY missed the fact that pretty much everybody in it is a homosexual. golly, i must have the worst gaydar this side of the border.
and, speaking of gollies, i just re-read the section of one hundred years of solitude that i read in your heathen tongue yesterday. evidently, the spanish original feels richer. i.e. pilar ternera's interjection upon feeling up young josé arcadio is "qué bárbaro!" i say you should just plunge into the spanish for your, what, third round? i'll hold your hand during the tricky parts. i see what you mean by the overall epic tone of it all. it's there in the spanish version, too: a grand story of the tall tales and times of an extraordinarily common family, where the tritest of details get preciously related.
/me rushes back to work, loves you more.
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