Wow! I didn’t know I could share my Criterion . . . collection. I feel like a guy in his 30s sharing this, but whatever: here it is.
I got some good stuff in there. Look on my collection, ye Mighty, and rejoice:
Anyway . . .
I feel like I need to post this once a year . . .
What does a scanner see? he asked himself. I mean, really see? Into the head? Down into the heart? Does a passive infrared scanner like they used to use or a cube-type holo-scanner like they use these days, the latest thing, see into me—into us—clearly or darkly? I hope it does, he thought, see clearly, because I can’t any longer these days see into myself. I see only murk. Murk outside; murk inside. I hope, for everyone’s sake, the scanners do better. Because, he thought, if the scanner sees only darkly, the way I myself do, then we are cursed, cursed again and like we have been continually, and we’ll wind up dead this way, knowing very little and getting that little fragment wrong too.
Western Europe is in big trouble for the next few days on account of the heatwave . . . Young Gego and I are hiding out in my high tower here in Berlin, which is now in Submarine Mode. I’ve drawn two layers of blackout curtains over all the windows and the fan is on high blast. Gego, who is a bit of a deadbeat, can usually be found in front of it . . . and despite permanently wearing a fur coat, he seems relatively unbothered. But today was just the practice round. The main event is this weekend. Will we survive . . . ? Of course we will. Gego and I are unkillable. Or didn’t you know?
yes
Julia called me today. I was still in bed with the curtains closed, behind which Gego was snoring loudly. Outside, the world was burning.
She said, of my good friend and former intern Elina the Estonian Girl, whom I had brought to her birthday party last Saturday: “Elina is cool. I understand now why you’re friends. You two talk and joke around the same way. She bullies you but in a loving way. And she’s not fake or pretentious.”
All of this is true. Julia is always very perceptive in that way. I’m glad these two important people in my life finally met.
I reckon I just wanted to once again pay tribute to my friend and surrogate little sister. Elina has always been a good and loyal friend to me. She is truly unique. And despite our substantial age gap, we understand one another. As she is Estonian, she is naturally adverse to sentimentality and vulnerability. They hate that stuff! I could never say these things to her in person. But as I am a sentimental and vulnerable American expatriate, and an embarrassing fool also, I will say here publicly that I love Elina and am lucky to know her. She can bully me anytime, which she absolutely does. It is an honor.
(I took these on her birthday last year. We spent all day together. It was a cute day!)
PREVIOUSLY . . .
My father:
