A calm, efficient, bustling day: cleaning, haircut, picked up the exams to mark, managed the first session of the year of the HIV patient group presentations, shopping, lunch. Not in that order; but things tended to happen neatly, quickly, and all slightly too fast to plan ahead and think about – which is actually good; I suppose this is the kind of day that efficient people have all the time, but it's nice to just get a slew of things done (including some pleasant surprises) without much forethought or consideration.
The final errand was the usual one of putting Pills In Bags. This is something that's been a feature of my life for probably more than fifteen years – a large number of small plastic bags (the last ones bought at a head shop in Los Angeles – when I saw the quality I bought a lot of them, they should last a decade or so), trash can and scissors, boxes and bottles of medications, vitamins, enzymes. A highly formalized ritual that takes place over the Parsons table I bought in Hong Kong – or was it San Francisco perhaps? – in any case a table that has been with me forever, and which remains clean, neat, graceful and only slightly dented in spots. Because all the pills have to go into the bags for a month's planned dispersal....
And, of course, the only way to do this chore without going completely mad is by doing it in front of the television. Ocean's Twelve was playing – the not-so-successful sequel to Ocean's Eleven, and prequel to Ocean's Thirteen – and, like many people, I'd been slightly disappointed in the relatively quiet tone and cool, European flavor of the middle film in comparison with the brash fun of the first and last ones. But watching it a second time, I found myself enjoying it – even more, being proud of it: it is indeed very European, the wit has a narrower focus, and the sense that the entire plot vanishes up its own, well you may name any orifice you like, has a certain Calvino-like playfulness.
Note a few tracks of music that are especially sexy, such as the one called 'Lifting the Building', or the chaotic bouzouki-esque rush of noises towards the end. And the whole range of things that it plays with – little rooms in Amsterdam, piazzas in Italy, the villas, the intricate amusements created by the two female stars – especially Julia Roberts playing someone pretending to be, well, Julia Roberts – it really is a lovely movie, and the final party with its blithe Continental elegance is a real pleasure.
Indeed, in these days when the US is looking particularly clumsy and overbearing, when the sheer stupidity of the hysterical right wing (claiming the earthquake in Haiti is a judgement from God? fighting sensible health plans that might actually, oh horrors, take care of its citizens?) seems still so present (yes, thank God they aren't in charge, but they're still very vocal) – although I remain an American living in a provincial northern corner of Europa, I feel distinctly comfortable with that.
Small streets in Amsterdam, cafés in Paris; I'll visit Hans-Rainer in Berlin in the next few months, make plans with our partners in Copenhagen and Parma... yes: I should go ahead and put in that application for EU citizenship. How could I not want such a thing?...
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