The US election week was a perfect microcosm of the nothing happens-everything happens state of this year. Its strange, stretchy timelessness – the soup of pointless, excruciating days we’re all wading through.
It was actually sort of refreshing to watch Biden experience success in the way that most of us do – slowly, incrementally, with enough opportunity to think about how it could have been better and without a balloon drop.
In between watching the endless and yet mostly news-less updates, I found time to watch the bad new adaptation of Rebecca even though I’d read enough articles that told me I shouldn’t.
But confession: I’ve never read it, so I just enjoyed how good looking everything was and was amazed to discover that despite at least a decade of assumed literary awareness I was actually totally ignorant of the twist. It made me glad I’ve refrained from pretending to have read it over the years, like I have with so many other titles.
Afterwards, I picked up my unread copy and began the work I should have done all along. It was bought new but has gained the yellow edges of a secondhand version through years of storage. On the title page I found an inscription from a girl I used to live with wishing me a happy twentieth birthday.
Remember when time used to pass?
A version of this post was sent by email on the 8th November 2020 as part of Internet Care Package – a weekly memoir project in the form of a newsletter. It also includes links to the best things I’ve found on the internet each week and occasional updates on my theatremaking. This blog is a select archive of those emails. Subscribe to get them right in your inbox.
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