Rainy
Fran Magazine: Issue #155
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An update to the lexicon
On Tuesday I finished reading Far From the Madding Crowd mere thirty minutes before classics book club — a record in procrastination / adhering to a deadline. When I got to the bar and we sat down to discuss the book, I was amused though unsurprised to see that there was a line that many of us highlighted as a particularly great Hardy joke.
The book, for those who have not read or seen either film adaptation1, the novel is about a once-vain, though headstrong #SmallBusinessOwner (farmer) named Bathsheba Everdeen, and her relationships with three men: her stoic and faithful shepherd Gabriel Oak, her awkward and wealthy neighbor Mr. Boldwood, and her gambling but admittedly hot soldier crush Frank Troy. It’s kind of a Goldilocks scenario, to be crass — one is too weird, one is too badly behaved, one is normal. Who will she pick? Well, you have to read or watch.
Some of the best writing in the book comes during Bathsheba’s courtship with Frank Troy, who appears out of nowhere on her farm and immediately calls her beautiful and then is like “come to the woods so I can show you my sword routine.” Oak and Boldwood, who begrudgingly get along, can at last bond over the fact that they both think this guy sucks, and nothing they say to Bathsheba can convince her otherwise because she is too horny. There is a marvelous scene where Oak basically decides to put his foot down on all this and speak his mind about Troy, to somewhat disastrous results:
“I like soldiers, but this one I do not like,” he said sturdily. “His cleverness in his calling may have tempted him astray, and what is mirth to the neighbors is ruin to the woman. When he tries to talk to ‘ee again, why not turn away with a short ‘Good day’; and when you see him coming the one way, turn the other. When he says anything laughable, fail to see the point and don’t smile, and speak of him before those who will report your task as ‘that fantastical an,’ or ‘that Sergeant What’s-his-name.’ ‘That man of a family that has come to the dogs.’ Don’t be unmannerly towards en, but harmless-uncivil, and so get rid of the man.”
No Christmas robin detained by a window-pane ever pulsed as did Bathsheba now.
“I say — I say again — that it doesn’t become you to talk about him. Why he should be mentioned passes me quite!” she exclaimed desperately. “I know this, th-th-that he is a thoroughly conscientious man — blunt sometimes even to rudeness — but always speaking his mind about you plain to your face.”
“Oh.”
“He is as good as anybody in this parish. He is very particular, too, about going to church — yes, he is!”
“I am afeared nobody ever saw him there. I never did, certainly.”
“The reason of that is,” she said eagerly, “that he goes in privately by the old tower door, just when the sevice commences, and sits at the back of the gallery. He told me so.”
This supreme instance of Troy’s goodness fell upon Gabriel’s ears like the thirteenth stroke of a crazy clock.
“Thirteenth stroke of a crazy clock” immediately took hold in the home. “Thirteenth stroke of a clock” is a turn of phrase I was familiar with from other literature and history, but for whatever reason, sticking the word “crazy” in there really got my ass. Many things have been “thirteenth stroke of a crazy clock” lately and I encourage you to describe them as such.
“No Christmas robin detained by a window-pane ever pulsed as did Bathsheba now” also reminds me of one of the all-time great tweets.
This morning Bandit woke me up an hour earlier than I wanted to be awake, but I was frankly happy to have woken up without TMJ pain. My migraines have mostly subsided since starting my new meds, but a combination of wedding stress + normal TMJ has escalated that issue to a point of vague concern. Google dot com is my jaw supposed to click this much. I need my neurologist to agree to give me Botox, but in order to do that, I have to finally get another MRI which I have been putting off because then I have to take all of my piercings out again and that’s so annoying and costs money (? I guess it is a service — but still). Anyway, I fed the cat and then went back to sleep on the couch, listening to the rain outside and the dishwasher running simultaneously: two all-time great sounds. I finally woke up for real about an hour ago and made my coffee, which Bandit tried to stick his face in because there’s milk in it. Yesterday, I turned away for .6 seconds and his tongue was on my toast. Despite this, he remains perfect.
My cayenne peppers are finally turning red. Every couple of days one of us plucks one off the plant and we chop it up and eat it. They’re spicy! The jalapeños, on the other hand, are coming in much more slowly and have a fruitier taste. No real heat to them, but that’s fine. I’ve yet to think about what to do with the peppers as the weather starts to cool off. Maybe they should get dried out and chucked into stocks for the next few months.
I have had an overwhelming desire to cook and bake lately: breads, mostly, of both salty and sweet variety. The zucchini are still good and the concept of a chocolate chip zucchini bread always makes breakfast feel fake-healthy. I am feeling completely insane regarding the wedding — overwhelmed, mostly, in logistics and planning, even though just about everything is actually set at this point but I retain doubt that any of it will actually happen as it’s supposed to. I ran through a laundry list of my myriad anxieties to my brother, who got married a few months ago, and he said, “to be honest, I wasn’t really worried about any of those things you listed until the actual day.” Okay, so, headstart. I still don’t have shoes, or rather: I bought shoes and haven’t decided if I’ll wear them, or rather, I haven’t decided which dress to wear them with. What about these? Something about brown + white is tempting — or maybe I’ll look like a cow (endorsement).
Some writing:
Notes on the Emmys history of people getting nominated for playing a version of themselves. I was totally pleased to be wrong in my prediction of who might win for Best Guest Star for The Studio — it should be Cranston, he’s playing Robert Evans!!!
Thoughts on the best song on SWAG II.
I wrote about a different song but this might be my favorite off Man’s Best Friend.
I dug into new cozycore game Tiny Bookshop, which I played for about five days straight then got too annoyed at. Thank you to former coworkers Nicholas and Darcie for their bookselling expertise.
My coworkers and I reviewed the Wicked cereals.
I cackled my way through a morning matinee of Orson Welles’ The Trial — the Letterboxd tagline being “the most remarkable motion picture ever made” has me thinking, well, yes! I did not like Caught Stealing (Darren Aronofsky) or The History of Sound (Oliver Hermanus). They are both crass in a similar way. My thoughts on Luca Guadagnino’s After the Hunt and Jafar Panahi’s It Was Just An Accident forthcoming — two movies, like Caught Stealing and The History of Sound, that share a DNA in paranoia and fear, though one of those is much more grounded than the other. I rewatched our beautiful Arrow blu-ray of Michael Mann’s Blackhat, which might be a masterpiece but I need to see it three more times.
In the afterglow of Far From the Madding Crowd, I am reading a galley of Claire-Louise Bennett’s Big Kiss, Bye-Bye. I think Pond and Checkout 19 are two fantastic contemporary novels. I am bad at keeping up with book news but when I heard she had a new one coming, I dropped everything to prioritize it next.
TV: I’ve seen all but the last two episodes of The Paper, which is basically fine. I’m happy for Sabrina Impacciatore and Eric Rahill and Tim Key. Otherwise I’m watching Slow Horses screeners (sorry) and still rewatching Lost (we just watched Stranger in a Strange Land… lmao <3).
Mom came to visit and we had a great time bopping around and eating at restaurants and going to MoMA. We saw Oh, Mary with Jinkx Monsoon (fun!), Kumail Nanjiani (go straight to jail/do not pass go), and Michael Urie (a genius!).
Kelly’s most recent candle review really made me laugh. Emi Nietfeld’s story for WIRED about a VC hounding her surrogate after she had a stillbirth, on the other hand, is probably one of the most riveting and horrible things I’ve read in some time.
What are you watching, reading, playing, looking forward to? NYFF starts up in a week and a half — I am really looking forward to Magellan, Rose of Nevada, Duse, Pillion, and A House of Dynamite.
I’m told they’re both good; I love the one from 2015!
crassness is annoying me lately also. but unfortunately that’s how i feel about new sabrina. wet ass pussy vibes
We listened to the new Sabrina on the Labor Day drive; I’m respectfully indifferent to whatever she’s doing, it’s more of a real act and she has more fundamentals than most of her contemporaries, but still not on the level of a Charli or a Chappell
I’m reading another doorstop biography that everyone who talks to me has to hear about, unfortunately for them it’s Sam Tanenhaus’s life of William F. Buckley, Jr. In the early going I was chastened to remember that I grew up in a household with a subscription to National Review and am familiar with Buckley’s appeal as a romantic, oppositional crusader figure. That mostly goes away when he starts carrying water for Joe McCarthy and although enthralling reading I basically want to reach through the book and strangle someone on every page.