Not the best week I've ever had, on a personal level. Last Sunday my father-in-law was admitted to the hospital, and he wasn't discharged until today. On Tuesday I found out that my friend Michele's mother passed away. Yesterday my mother fell in her apartment and wasn't able to get up by herself. Life is short, my friends. Art is long.
Oh, and - totally inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, of course - on Thursday I found out that my submission to the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Awards contest didn't even make the first cut. I had a feeling that they were looking for edgy, which I'm not, but... wow. Not even the first cut. Why am I getting the feeling that time is not on my side?
My daughter is watching the Oscars now, and wants me to poke my head into the living room from time to time, but do I really want to see how old Billy Crystal has gotten? I suspect it won't cheer me up. At what point will the man acknowledge reality and start calling himself Bill? I thought one of the few perks of the aging process is that it's supposed to lend you a bit of dignity.
Maybe I will poke my head in for a few minutes, though. The Oscars have become a public spectacle on the verge of crossing over into a religious obligation. And for that, I'd like to thank the Academy.