No posts for several days. This is not because I am
sick with COVID-19, but because the days under isolation are so similar that
there is literally nothing to report. We have almost completed Better Call Saul.
It’s getting increasingly dark and violent. We streamed several performances of
the Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra—Schubert, Bach, and Schumann. The wonderful pianist
Jeremy Denk performed Schumann’s Piano Concerto in A minor.
I am reading the Ronan Farrow book about his effort to
develop a story about the sexual predations of film producer Harvey Weinstein. The
book, Catch and Kill, is exhaustive and suspenseful, but IMHO is not as well-written
as some of the gushing reviewers would have it. It might make a better movie
along the lines of the film Spotlight, which chronicled the story of the Boston
Globe’s investigation into the archdiocese’s effort to cover up its own sex
scandal.
Decluttering has ground to a stop. I feel as if there is all
the time in the world—this is going to go on for a while, and I will get to it
when I get to it. I try to get in some exercise every day, whether it is a
short walk or a stint on the almost functioning exercise bike. My forays into
continuing with Hungarian are episodic—I have significant trouble with adverbs
and the accusative. Since I will probably never visit Hungary again, it is an
intellectual exercise.
Mitzi the Cat now goes out at night—she can sense the feeble
Minnesota spring trying to emerge. She doesn’t stay out long. I read somewhere
that cats can either get or transmit the virus. Since she spends most of her
time underneath the parked car and never interacts with any other beasts (human
or feline), I suspect that she is virus-free. But I cannot know for sure, so it’s
just one of the many unknowns that are the new-normal. We need to get used to
ambiguity.
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