25 February 1995
Yesterday Teresa and I went to breakfast, and Teresa had a smoked porkchop in my honor. A while ago I asked her what she’s going to call me when she gets done with Princess and Porkchop.
“Kate?” she said, doubtfully. Once she called me and when I said hello, instead of saying, “Princess!” or “My Porkchop!” she said, “Hi, Kate.” And I was like, who is this?
Yesterday we went to see the movie Red, which is so beautiful to look at and so nice in the things that it values, I mean love and friendship. I was thinking of the other one, Blue, and how wonderful those heroines are: they’re good, kind, fascinating women, and so beautiful. Goodness is portrayed in those movies as such a complicated thing. I read a strange review of Blue in which the reviewer said that he liked it very much, but that many of the scenes reminded him of those high-class Calvin Klein ads, and I thought, yeah, this movie is like a Calvin Klein ad in the same way the Anna Karenina is like a soap opera: if you can’t tell real emotion from fake, they’re identical. I get scared of becoming someone who doesn’t know the difference.
Remember how the President of Mills called me cynical, and I was trying to figure out what that is. I still don’t know, but I think one of the sure signs of cynicism is that it’s not alert. It has nothing to do with noticing things. And this reviewer was cynical. And the really breathtaking thing was that he claimed to like the movie.
Oh, keep me innocent!