setback, reset

Yesterday was absolutely gruesome. I sometimes feel like my actions are somehow outside of my control: like it's outside of my control that I read "Dear Prudie" columns on slate.com back from 1998 onwards. Or that it's outside of my control to sprawl out on beddinge melting in my own sweat but not get up to turn the fan towards myself. And most of all, I become almost hysterical over the fact that I read Dear Prudie for hours at a stretch, while melting in my own sweat--simultaneously! instead of revising what little (s)crap(s) I have of c3. I was on the verge of tears and maniacal self-hatred last night about this: I was so angry at my incapacity to motivate myself, trying to analyze where this sense of helplessness over my own actions derives from, and felt absolutely desperate at the fact that Friday had slipped out of my incompetent grasp and I had only the weekend--a weekend I had planned would be full of fun--to pump something out before meeting with my writing partners on Monday.

I wouldn't exactly say that I've turned myself around today and am now on fire or anything, but changing locales seems to have helped--I am in Michael's air-conditioned room where there's no need to ration cold water--and I'm at least thinking and tapping away. Tap tap tap, delete, pause while staring off into space for indefinite periods of time, tap tap, check email, tap tap tap tap, pause, switch documents, tap, switch back to the previous document, tap tap, delete.

The Lists

TO DO WORK: Rewrite first part of c3. Write chamoiseau close reading for c3. Write a first draft of research statement. Analyze dvd for c4. Finish revising c2 (intro/signposting, performance of identity tie-in for both close readings, coda)
DONE! Wrote an intro section to c3.

TO DO LIFE: Pay down debt (currently $1,031.09). Procure dog. Buy suit. Read Therí's paper. Go to dmv and figure out car insurance: call insurer, make appointment. Get Tanya's present. Return boxes to the container store. Assemble bathroom furniture. Paint the bathroom. Sell file cabinet. Track down fridge.
DONE! Dad got on the horn about the misplacement of my new fridge, calling the delivery company, "quality express," a total misnomer. Dad's funny. Per usual, I haven't really reduced the "to do: life" list in any substantial way. I did make my little calendar for the upcoming academic year. Google calendar is great, but I find it's a good idea to have several copies of schedules, otherwise you do things like forget it's your friend Melissa's going away party last night. Except for the fact that I wouldn't have known anyone there except her, a major faux-pas.

TO DO BLITZ: sarah, marilyn, giulia, irmary, mariana, dar, nv, sf, marzena, thérèse, toño, jerven, magdalena, staceymo.
new subset: TO DO CALL: hen, lauryn.
DONE! called diane, thanks gchat!

Netflixed

5X2
One of Ozon's truly depressing portraits of the essential incompatibility of people and the relationships in which they find themselves. 5X2 starts with a couple divorcing and works its way backwards through key events in their lives: when the husband, Gilles, can't bring himself to be present at his wife's, Marion's, difficult birth; when Marion has sex with a rando American on the night of her wedding to Gilles; when they seem to have nothing in common when they first get together. At moments, various characters seem to suggest that it is possible to be committed to another person even while your genitalia wanders astray--an argument I guess I buy but am quite certain I would be unable to live with--but it seems evident to me that Marion and Gilles were unfaithful and unsupportive partners in the most fundamental ways. Their betrayals weren't just sexual, it's more like they used sex--and the withholding of sex--to manifest their disgust with one another.

A interesting strain of sexual representation in French movies that I'm noticing is that French directors seem very keen to explore the ambiguities of sexual desire. Coming from a "no means no" background, it is always confusing and disconcerting to me to see the articulation of "no" as not meaning "no I don't want to have sex with you" but meaning "no I shouldn't want to have sex with you but I do want to and if you insist, I will and I'll enjoy it, even though my struggling and yelling no makes this look to a third wave U.S. feminist like a clear instance of rape." Maybe this is what Katie Roiphe, in her clumsy mainstream-media-pandering, feminism-backlash-bandwagon-riding fashion, was trying to get at. I can see that it may be a more nuanced and honest portrayal of the complications of the decision-making process re sex as happening on too many physical, emotional, and mental levels, but I still am massively uncomfortable with it. And with its filmic representation.

Restau 99

Lucques
Does it count if I've already been to Lucques? I've had mixed experiences at Lucques, but always excellent food. This week, we'll be going to two high-end restaurants in LA, thanks to the San Pellegrino Dine Out program: $25 prix fixe 3-course menu. How precisely we're contributing to resolving world hunger by being forced to drink salty bubbly water is unclear to me, but I am excited about the deals. My carrot soup was excellent--Michael's salad was seriously over-dressed. But then again, we are folk who prefer to encounter very little dressing or condiments whatsoever. His BLTA was quite yummy, but on day 2 is again suffering from the serious overdressing, my albacore was ok, severely marred for me by a heap o mayo in the center--the corn and greens beneath it were far preferable. The dessert was stellar--I had this ice cream butternut toffee chocolate sauce extravaganza that tasted like liquid brownie, and Michael had the sorbets. I'm disappointed in Lucques, I have to say: what's with the slathering and over-greaserness? However, it was a nice experience. It does feel good to be out at a special occasion place, all pretty and bright and an excess of cutlery.