I still have Oscar fever around here. Along with the actual fever, as in, “Leave the bread by the wagon, Pa, I’ve got the fever and we’re quarantined.” But it’s just that nasty cold sort of plague that doesn’t keep me from pretty much carrying on as normal. Instead, it just makes me feel zero guilt when I choose the couch and a movie over yoga, or pouring over enjoyable books on my lunch hour and evening stretches instead of more productive things like laundry and novel writing. I look forward to feeling better, but in the meantime I’m sucking the marrow out of the sniffly, achy, wheezing permission to take more in from life this week than I’m giving out.
Besides the sickness, there is another reason I’m either reading a book or watching a movie in all my spare time. It’s hard to do anything else when I literally have myself tied down with sheets lest I bug my agent this week with a daily “What’s happening now?”. There was a little movement with the manuscript last week, though nothing concrete. The last I talked to my agent she sounded very positive and hopeful and was off to see what she could make out of the positivity. So I’m sitting tight. Michael, as you may remember from previous posts, has a horror of being uncool and has told me to refrain from anxious phone calls or silly emails in which I say things like, “Hey Hol, how’s the weather on Fifth Avenue?” when what I really mean is, “What’s happening already?!” And for God’s sake, don’t actually write anything like the latter. Just BE cool. And I’m thoroughly obeying him, meanwhile devouring distracting entertainment like a tonic.
So here’s some of the tonic I’ve been devouring, organized into completely subjective and ridiculously pretend Oscar categories.