Wilfrid

One of the great pleasures in my life for a while now.

I did see a Television reunion performance, but the last time I saw Tom was on the 14D bus when he was perhaps pretending to be asleep. Long before that I was in the USPS on 14th Street in line to pick up a package behind someone who looked vaguely familiar. He got to the front of the line and quietly asked for a package for Richard Hell.

Just finished Farewell and for all its many faults, when the power comes it really comes. The story about the ants a couple of pages from the end; he is knowingly trying for Dostoevsky but in a few simple sentences. And the end should make anyone cry.

So, I was supposed to eat these gesiers/gizzards/mollejas last night, but I like them cooked really slow and tender. Some cultures flash fry them and eat them crunchy like chicharrones. So I gave them three hours in a casserole with onions and some wine last night. I had bought them from a K-Mart so they had a Korean marinade and I poured that sauce in as I warmed them. So good. Less than $5 and I only ate half tonight.

Hinds first album released 10 years ago today. On the playlist for tonight. "Castigadas en el Granero" is still a climactic point in the live set. And I still don't know what it's about, even translated.

@backyardchef Did not see it. Thank you.

I finally got around to Elena Ferrante's so-called Neapolitan novels. I've been dipping in and out for a while and will finish the fourth volume tonight. I say "so-called" because (as the author herself has pointed out) this is simply one novel, published in four volumes because it's something like 1700 pages. In the original Italian, the novel is called L'amica geniale. Wikipedia says: "The Neapolitan Novels, also known as the Neapolitan Quartet, are a four-part series of fiction..." What? I cynically wonder if this is a ruse by the English language publishers to encourage people to start with any volume, which would be a huge mistake. Anway, I'd avoided these for a while because of my suspicion of anything that's really popular, but they are certainly highly readable. I did tire occasionally of the endless romantic flings with indistinguishable local boys (Rino and Nino and Marcello and Michele and so on...) but the main female characters are interesting. And to my surprise, the fourth volume is the best. Very long novels can exhaust themselves.

Barrie jumped the gun a bit, didn't he? Listened to late Scott Walker last night; fitted the mood. Hard to believe Tilt is now 30 years old.

Leftovers are so often the winners. I have gesiers braising in the oven, not ready for tonight. Instead, I finely chopped the leftover beef heart, smashed up the last piece of chicken liver truffle pate, grated some Ihla Graciosa, and beat them all into a three egg omelette. For once, I let the omelette cook long before flipping it. I had a really crisp omelette the size of a small pillow, soft inside with the cheese boosting the creaminess. I guess it's a contradiction to only cook leftovers...

So much for Happy New Year. 2026 is already a nightmare and is unlikely to improve.

Sunday night I made nachos with low carb tortilla chips, melted ordinary cheese, sour cream, pickled jalapenos; the meat ingredient was some leftover, finely diced boneless spare rib from the local Chinese take-out. I still had some of that leftover last night, as well as sour cream to use up. Stirred the cream into the pork and hey, a kind of Chinese goulash.

Darling, do you love me? It would be awfully sweet if you did. Say you love me. Say it again. Put a sock in it, Catherine.

Good move jumping to Hemingway. The contrast with Faulkner is really striking. Two almost exact contemporary American writers producing powerful effects in utterly different ways. One of them moving backwards and forwards in time, without warning, often within a paragraph and dowsing you with different viewpoints. The other offering a series of clear, declarative sentences from one viewpoint and in a unified chronology. I think it's my third time with Farewell and there's much I really love; but I had forgotten that Catherine can be really annoying. Hem captures the voice of a leading lady from a 1930s British romantic movie really well. It's a voice you don't want to hear so much of. As with Gogol, there's a strong temptation to look at some of the shorter pieces too. I told myself to be disciplines, then found myself dipping to A Moveable Feast over breakfast.

My general physician must be on the brink of retirement. He's downsized his practice and he's probably older than me. My beautiful podiatrist is youthful, on the other hand. She just needs to limit this motherhood lark.

How dare they have lives? Seeing my general physician Wednesday.

I have an Achilles tendon problem and guess what? My beautiful and amazing podriatrist is not open because she went and had a baby (I knew she wanted to). But what about the Hippocratic oath? I suppose there may be, huh, other doctors.

Being a smartass about the "original" Frankenstein movie paid off as I'd long ago given up hope of actually seeing it. The restoration is great and there's something rather magical about it, especially some great tricks with mirrors. It barely touches on Shelley's story -- it's less than 13 minutes long. Worth a look (thanks @small h

I always think of the Cowardly Lion.

This is the picture of the monster I remember from horror movie histories when I was a kid. Can't believe I can finally watch it. Like seeing Max Schreck as Nosferatu the Vampire, but that movie was accessible (although early versions I saw were really rough).

Rosner's review in the holiday NYer was sharply negative. This afternoon I read Schneier in New York. Also negative and finding some same faults in same dishes. Whatever the big picture I don't know why a Ladner kitchen would be sending out poor food.

Actually I thought the original, the 1910 of course, was long lost apart from a few stills, but you prompted me to check and it was restored in 2018. And it's on YouTube (and very short) so will watch shortly. I bet Karloff never saw it.

Right now in a coffee bar listening to a hilarious conversation between two 20-ish women. Best so far, "It was a nightmare as per youzsh. He literally kicked me out of his mother's house on Christmas." I am guessing at how you spell the abbreviation of "usual."

Venison schnitzel, the last of my D'Artagnan filets. One thing I am good at is breadcrumbing; no egg here, just a spread of Maille mustard on the filet, pressed hard into seasoned (with paprika) crumbs.

The Sound and the Fury done. When I first picked it up years ago, the opening section bewildered me. I thought there were two characters named Benjy, one an adult, one a child. No. I also thought there was confusion about Quentin's gender. Wrong again. Around that time I picked up a very good guide to Faulkner's fiction that contains a detailed analysis of this novel in particular. The three sections that follow the first become steadily more intelligible. 21. Goncharov, Oblomov 22. Hamilton, The Midnight Bell (done) 23. Hawthorn, The Marble Faun 24. Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms I might jump to Hemingway for the interesting contrast with Faulkner.

I may be the only one who watched every episode of every Below Deck franchise this year.