A long, soothing Easter weekend lies ahead. Persistent Irish rain makes only the briefest forays outdoors possible.
Sink into Musil’s Diaries that develop just as you begin to get exasperated with the fatuous young man. Starting also to slowly imbibe Peter Adolphsen’s Machine. I am also randomly reading Nabokov interviews in Strong Opinions.
This afternoon’s reading of the Musil Diaries paused to show my 8-year old daughter E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial. As E.T. lay, apparently dying, “Is this a tragedy?” “No, not even tragicomedy?” “Phew,” she replied. The acting holds up well but E.T. needs 21st century CGI. The rubber model, based on a combination of Carl Sandburg, Albert Einstein and a pug dog, shows its age.