High-Profile Fans

Here's something that blew my mind and maybe it will blow yours. But I doubt it! Your mind can't be blown, can it? You've seen it all! Your mind has crusted over with blow-proof grit. Anyway! I was watching BONJOUR TRISTESSE yesterday, and I texted Megan something about it - Megan Abbott, that is, as her surname will become significant in the following tale. So, the movie is over and I'm responding to a text from Megan about something else... Andre Gregory, if you must know. Yes, yes, Andre Gregory is the sort of subject we text about, that's how we are. Not that it matters! Because I had recorded BONJOUR TRISTESSE from a showing on TCM. So after the movie, host Ben Mankiewicz gets on there to remind me what I just saw, in case I forgot. And this time, he says how BONJOUR TRISTESSE was not a big critical hit upon its release but now it has... and here I will quote... "high-profile fans such as The New Yorker's Richard Brody, writer Megan Abbott, and actor Amy Poehler." Wait! Back up! Did you notice that middle one? I was texting Megan at the same time Ben Mankiewicz yelled her name from my TV. Maybe he wasn't yelling.

Sleeping and Dreaming of Dreaming and Sleeping

You know, and these are the words you've been longing to hear, I believe I will tell you something about McNeil's dream of Dolores Hope after all. To wit, in McNeil's dream, Dolores Hope was concerned about her napping habits. And that brings up something important for everyone to ponder. It seems to me that McNeil is always dreaming about sleeping and dreaming. To be clear, people in McNeil's dreams themselves sleep and dream. Is that "normal"? I mean, do you dream about sleeping? Do you dream about dreaming? I don't think I do. Do I? I need some reliable statistics. My friend Mevelyn has described the "blog" itself as being like "a dream within a dream," but she was referring to its intentional ourboros-based design as a byzantine labyrinth of frustration and woe. What I'm talking about here, though, is real sleep! Real dreams! Within real sleep! And real dreams! My use of the word "real" bothers me a little, but isn't a dream inside a dream just a dream? That is, as "real" as the dream within which it... aw, screw it. Pardon my bold use of the vernacular! Do I even have evidence to back up my analysis of McNeil's dream content? You bet I don't! I tried corroboration for a few seconds, but do you know how many hundreds of thousands of times the word "McNeil" appears on this "blog"? It stymies both research and sanity. All I can offer is the anecdotal scrap that in December of 2021, McNeil dreamed about Carol Channing having a dream. Are you happy now? Can I get on with my life? Ace and I are supposed to walk around the neighborhood when he finishes his cereal. Do you know how long it takes Ace to finish his cereal? It's like Waiting for Godot around here. One day I want to see this magical cereal bowl that never empties.

The 11-Day Blunder

Just when I thought I would have nothing to "blog" about today, McNeil reports having a dream about Bob AND Dolores Hope! Now, am I going to tell you the dream? No. It having been previously established that you don't know who Bob Hope is, how much less, given the scummy world in which we live, would you have cared to learn of Dolores Hope? And shame on you for that. You're what's wrong with America! Why, if you tried to even think of the concept of Dolores Hope, you would be instantly confronted by and sucked into the greedy abyss of your own soul. And maybe that's what you want. How am I supposed to know? Good for you! So... why am I telling you this, then? I'm glad you asked, imaginary voice in my head! Well, today will be the eleventh day in a row I have "blogged." I haven't double checked, because I just don't care that much, especially since A.I. informed me that I wrote Bill Boyle's novel GRAVESEND and I witnessed what the future holds as far as meticulous accuracy goes, but I'm very certain that today, whatever day it is, marks the most days I have "blogged" in a row since I got demoralized on April 27, 2016, when our TV blew up. I had a little fit and claimed to have stopped "blogging." I was all sad inside like a weepily smiling clown because I had "blogged" for "almost 10 years"... ha ha! What a chump. It's been nearly 20 now! And yes, I'm throwing up as I type these words. It's not as easy as it sounds, throwing up while you type. What was I just talking about?

Transitional Phrase

Here's something uninteresting. Yesterday, having mentioned Patrick Swayze on the "blog" for no reason, I included a "hyperlink" upon which naught shall "click" to the previous time I mentioned Patrick Swayze (also for no reason): September 13, 2008. I say for no reason, but the reason, if you want to call it that, all those years ago (I'm too tired to do the math), was an allusion to a former (?) habit of Kent Osborne, who would use, in conversation, Swayze's name as part of a transitional phrase. To liven things up and make them jolly! Oh, what times those were. Speaking of which, you know how I am always talking about these times we live in and how they suck and whatnot without bothering to get into details because who wants to rock the boat? Nothing to see here! So! Now we're getting to the meat of it! I hope you're hungry! In the Swayze "link" mentioned above, I discovered a few lines from John Ashbery I had quite forgotten, which read, in part (I'll give you a second chance not to "click"), "these are lousy times to be living in, yet we do live in them: We are the case." Well! I guess you can take that in a couple of ways (we DO live in them!!!), but it reminded me of Emily Wilson (also appearing in yesterday's "post") - specifically, her translation of Seneca's OEDIPUS, in which our hero (?) says "The guilt of my times is mine." I just wanted to make you feel better!

I Really Shouldn't Do This

Hey! So, you know, I'm reading THE ILIAD last night, because I'm the biggest egghead going, and Helen says "my dog-face self." And I'm like, "Whoa!" I'm like, "What's going on here?" I'm like, "Be nice to yourself, Helen! What can I do to help?" Also, I vaguely recall reading something about Helen comparing herself to a dog... where could it have been? In Emily Wilson's introduction to her translation of THE ODYSSEY? So I get up this morning and take THE ODYSSEY off the shelf and open to the exact page I was thinking of! Because I'm some kind of miracle man, everyone says so. Anyway, last night, I flipped to THE ILIAD's endnotes to see what "dog-face" was all about. Appended to the explanation was an incidental remark about Athena's usual designation as "owl-eyed." We all knew about that, didn't we? (See also.) So I said to myself, I said, "Hey! Are you going to put THE ILIAD on your famous list of books you've read with owls in them? Which consists of every book you have ever read? Because every book has an owl in it? It's just a fact of science!" And then I was like, "Hey! But that's only an endnote! So far, in the actual part of this translation you've read, Athena's eyes have been 'bright' and 'flashing' but not owl-like. So what's the plan? You're going to put THE ILIAD on your list WITH AN ASTERISK?" Because I was like "That seems crazy! You know Athena is going to be owl-eyed sooner or later! You would be a fool to put an asterisk on THE ILIAD. Why, you'd look like the biggest jerk alive! Nobody puts an asterisk on THE ILIAD, as Patrick Swayze famously said in DIRTY DANCING." So I'm going to go ahead and... look. This could easily cost me my "blogging" license. But I'm going to go ahead and put THE ILIAD on the list, without an asterisk. I know I'm taking a risk here. This is like betting the house on a spin of the roulette wheel! Oh my God! I can't believe how tense I am all the time! I live on the edge! And the taste of fear is delicious.

Bro

You know what I thought of as I was falling asleep last night? That part of the Bible where Jesus kills a disappointing fig tree! I was like, "Hey, McNeil may be onto something." ("Click" here for some of McNeil's interesting reflections upon the character of Jesus.) So I was looking up the passage this morning, and I couldn't decide who was more annoying, the people on the "internet" who know exactly why Jesus absolutely needed to kill a fig tree at that moment and want to justify it to me in depth or the people on reddit who are like "What the ding dong!" (I here modify their colorful cursing.) They are like "Jesus straight up murdered a fig tree, bro!" (I paraphrase only slightly, if at all.) They are like, "This proves it! Religion is over! We did it! High five, dude!" You know what? Yes, they are worse. I'll stick with McNeil. McNeil is neither fish nor fowl! Ha ha! People say that like it's a bad thing.

Schism!

I'm going to tell you some of McNeil's thoughts about the Apocryphal Gospels. Get ready! Hold onto your hat! McNeil goes, "This young Jesus, I think, bears a resemblance to the Jesus of the The Gospels." WHAT! That's me talking again, not McNeil. You may recall that from my own superficial reading, I found Boy Jesus, as presented in the Apocryphal Gospels, quite unlike what I will refer to as "Regular Jesus." For example, Boy Jesus (once again, apocryphal version) murders a schoolteacher who gets on his nerves. But listen to McNeil's point. It's interesting! Says McNeil, "I'm willing to believe it's the same guy. He's here to do a job. But he'd rather not be here. He's impatient." All right! Well put, honestly. I can see that. McNeil goes farther than I might, however. First, you will need to revisit McNeil's old interpretation of "Regular Jesus" as a guy who sighs a lot and, to repeat McNeil's words as quoted in a previous "blog" "post," "barely puts up with these dumb-ass disciples he's saddled with." Now, the latter is not an assessment of apocryphal material. That's just McNeil reading the regular old Bible you can find in any decent motel. I can't get with McNeil on that view of Jesus, exactly. I'm not radical enough in my thinking! But one must admit that it makes McNeil seem like some kind of visionary, considering that the apocryphal Young Jesus who, in McNeil's words, "just throws tantrums anytime someone comes near him, or kills them," might conceivably evolve with maturity into the petulant, put-upon, passive-aggressive Jesus in McNeil's unique reading of the New Testament. McNeil's reading! It's all McNeil. Don't come to my house!