Sweet Nothing

(for some reason, blogger won't let me add a picture today)

I wrote something last night that I thought would save me time this morning.  Nope.  It seemed clever enough when I was drinking.  I want to tell the same story again this morning only better, but you know how that goes.  And I'm neither clever nor clear here, getting up and going back to bed only to rise late.  There is little sense to things this morning as I sit looking over the wicked mess someone must have made in the house while I was sleeping.

It sounds as if the cat is learning Russian.  I can't understand a word of it.  Something is wrong with her as well.

I went to a retirement party for a man I've worked with many years.  Such things are sad, not because the person is leaving but because such celebrations are always so forced and paltry and hollow and awkward.  A co-worker asked me if I'd seen "Midnight in Paris," expecting a review.  Several people listened in.

"You know which Woody Allen film is MY favorite?" the coworker asked me.

I didn't think any of them, so I said, "What's Up Tiger Lily"?

"No.  'Radio Days.'"

"Oh.  You know my favorite?"

He thought a minute.  "Zelig."

"No, no.  C'mon. . . . 'Manhattan!' I watch it at least once a week."

Crowd response.

Feeling clever, I put my arm around one of the younger, prettier women in the room and asked, "Have I told you how nice I am to my mother?"

To me, she seemed less unimpressed than usual.

Home late, having cooked again for one, I sat down in front of the television and looked at what I had recorded on the DVR.  Several things, including "An Education."  I thought to watch the first part of it again while I ate.  The opening three or four minutes is a wonderful montage.  But of course, I got sucked in.

I stopped the film just before the end when everything has gone to shit and Jenny tells her parents, "Young girls are always getting seduced by sophisticated older men."  I didn't want to watch the rest of it because I knew this was a shortcut, a cheat.  It was there only to get us to the point of this morality play.

So, feeling as clever as I had that afternoon, I searched for songs from the movie's soundtrack and hijacked them for my friends.

I'm not feeling so clever this morning, though.  At night I tend to feel more clever than I should.  Tonight, I think, I'll drink tea and read Buddhist texts.  That should start me on a path of clarity.