Perfect Days has less dialogue than any film I've seen in decades and it has stayed with me longer than most of them. It's about a man who cleans public toilets in Tokyo and lives a very contented life. And it's made me appreciate life’s everyday beauty - while inspiring me to clean my bathroom. The other day, seeing the cleaning woman in our corridor, I found my reflexive pity tempered, slightly, but the thought, the hope, that she may take pleasure in her work.
And now what? No eclipse. No Curb. No Masters.
Oh, yes - the Trump trial!
An article in today’s Miami Herald reports that Madonna stopped her show at the Kaseya Center in protest over the excessive air-conditioning. “At one point…[she] stopped what she was doing to rant at her team.”
The article illustrated, surprisingly, what I have in common with the pop star, and, also, what I don’t. For years I have complained about the cold temperatures in restaurants, theaters, and stores in South Florida. Not only is there no reason for the overchill, it contributes to climate change (the hydrofluorocarbon refrigerants used are potent greenhouse gases). I applaud Madonna for bringing attention to the problem, and I hope perhaps it will result in some change.
I was also struck by the fact that she complained to her “team.” Tennis players do this all the time; they miss a shot and then turn to their box, moaning and screaming as if the lost point were the fault of their coach and physio. I, needless to say, don’t have a team. But I would like to. It would be nice to have someone to berate whenever an editor sends me a rejection.
Now what? No eclipse. No Final Fours. No Curb Your Enthusiasm.
Oh, that’s right – The Masters.
Friday we drove to West Palm Beach to see Death of a Salesman at the Palm Beach Dramaworks. It was a phenomenal performance by all the actors, while Rob Donohue (Willy Loman), Helena Ruoti (Linda) and Michael Shenefelt (Biff) stood out. I was reintroduced not only to a great work of American literature but to the very visceral experience of live theater. (Our seats were in the second row.) Also, now when Hania complains about me watching sports on television, I will say to her: “Attention must be paid.”
Yesterday’s lesson, from Isaiah 50:4-9a, began: “The Lord God has given me the tongue of a teacher, that I may know how to sustain the weary with a word.”
And I thought: Those were the days.
I’m off on a little Easter week jaunt, coming back here sometime next week.