So I have not been writing, but I have not been reading anything substantial either, besides a lovely biography of Kate Hepburn and her vivacious, startling life and the claim that she was lesbian with all these beautiful women around her. My thoughts are now flying to new outlets with the Whatsapp application and my new data plan has been excitedly downloading similarly irreverent and useless things. I don’t know why I have not thought of this before!
The mentor has been promoted to partner, I have new weddings to attend, my new favourite colour is bright orange, I re-met E and J and had a whale of a time on fond old group memories. I have oyster cravings. I am going to watch this french film with an absurd plot on Tuesday, and I am still waiting on Jules et Jim, French New Wave is my new thing and I am crazy over Taschen photobooks at Books Actually and wish I could buy them all! Even work is getting better and the legal research is getting more substantial. H sent me macchiato lip gloss and reminded me of the time we shopped for chocolate lip balm at Oxford Street when I was 15 (at that age, every street in London dazzled and we were running everywhere and life was exciting and better than those 14-age dreams). I’m wearing lucite heels and embracing new evenings and learning time variations.
I also watched Sofia Coppola’s Somewhere which I had been longing to watch on promises that it was a Lost in Translation mood, but it was a little too Ulysses and lol on the guy who falls asleep while watching two striptease poledancers. Supposedly the twin fantasy.
But everything was so modern this week and I feel like George Cukor faced with the possibility of going alternate and the new world of doing things. It is June and the summer and everyone’s falling in love or in love and my cat hides in dark corners. Etto is coming to visit for dinner (Etto claims I live in the boondocks and I can only say that I introduce people to Singaporean cows). All weekend I’ve been working on regression again but I’ll soon move on to economics and foreign trade theories. Etto says I should read French Women Don’t Sleep Alone, just to improve my love life.
But I miss you Irving, and wherever you are in China or Shangri La or some sort of Casablanca, do drop me a note and tell me who stole your water bottle in German.