Train of Thought

Mediterranean daydreams punctuated by day-to-day absurdity, plus a book club visit and a desperate plea for something to watch that doesn't involve godawful characters.

Hello readers,

How was your week? Are you reading anything good, watching anything good, celebrating anything good? Do you have big – or even little – summer plans? Hit reply and tell me what is making your world go 'round right now, or at least making your world more tolerable.

I've been working on a couple of stories this week, and allowing a strange man (hello, Brandon!) to dry needle my head and neck, so there's that. However, I'd be lying to you if I said I wasn't really just mostly daydreaming about the train ride between Nice and Marseille right now. Oh how I love that ride, in large part because it means that you are in this beautiful part of the world. If you sit on the Mediterranean side of the train, you can watch people frolic in that sparkling turquoise water, or bronze themselves on the shore. You can whiz past yachts galore, pastel-hued villas, and some vineyards here and there. And of course there are the stops with the sing-songy announcement that you have arrived in "Annnntibes" (or wherever). You can't help but smile when you hear it. I'm smiling right now just thinking about it. I really want to be there right now. It did not help matters that I interviewed someone who understood all the good things about Southern France this week. As a matter of fact, it only compounded my longing.

As I type these words, there's a plumber who is replacing the hot water heater and twisting and tweaking some other things around my house. He just rolled the new water heater in with a clangity-clank-clank, and I'm hoping he can install it soon (but in a thorough way, of course) because the water is off and I am incredibly well-hydrated if you catch my drift. So there's that.

I also brought my car in for service this week, and it needed a fair amount of things done. I was grinding my teeth as I looked at the laundry list, but, hey, you gotta do what you gotta do, so I said okay. I like my little clown car and want to take good care of it.

While I was at the dealership, I asked if I could take a look at the new VW bus just for kicks. A salesperson said, "I can't sell you one of those." I said, "I don't want to buy one. I just want to see it." He said that the company issued a no-sell order on the cars because the back seat is big enough for three people but only has two seatbelts. I missed this news somehow (oh, I know how...so many headlines...). So I thought to myself, "hm" and then said "well, I'd still like to see it." So the guy told me they moved the buses to the back of the lot, and if I wanted to see them they were there.

I'm no mathematician, but here's how things were adding up for me: 1. VW got into trouble a couple of years ago for intentionally manipulating emissions test results on its diesel vehicles; plus 2. VW discontinued the Beetle (again) and decided to go hard on another beloved nostalgia car (the bus in question), and then seemed to want to hit a big home run by making the bus an electric car; and, also, 3. All the promotion for this electric bus, and then 4. a necessary, but missing seatbelt changed all that.

For a dork like me, who gets completely geeked out over nostalgia, I am likewise geeked about absurdity. So I asked the salesperson if I could see the inside of the car too, and the guy said no. Never in my life have I met a salesperson so determined not to sell something. So I walked to the back of the lot where he was hiding the buses, and tried to peek in the windows. The windows were tinted, so that was a bit of a letdown.

Later in the day, I told my mother about this, and she thought it was so hilarious that she wanted to start calling VW dealerships about buying a bus, just to see what they'd say. I bet this brought her back to the days of yore when she called up stores to see whether they had Prince Albert in a can. If the proprietor said yes, Mom would tell him or her to "let him out." Being a kid is hilarious, but then again, so, too, is being an eternal kid like my mom is.

"Don't you see, Paige? This is a story!" she said with absolute glee. I mean, it is a story, but more than anything, it seems like a story I should save for my own newsletter about how everything is absurd, and here's more proof if you need it. You know? But also, my little prank-calling mom...how cute is she? She's probably even toilet-papering the trees in your front yard right now.

Please don't call the cops. I beg of you.

The good news is that my car is all tuned-up and still has the appropriate number of seatbelts. And as of right now, the water is back on, so if you'll excuse me...the lady must powder her nose.

As always, thank you for being here. You guys are the best.

XO,

P

Writing prompt: Write about an absurd moment, or absurd person in your life.

In other news...

This past Tuesday night, a book club invited me to talk about Overnight Code. It was a lovely evening full of barbecue, a lemon-blueberry cake that I'm still thinking about, and some good and engaged company. There were women from all walks of life, some of them with experience in the military, some of them who worked with computers as Raye Montague once did, and some who could just relate to some aspect of what it is to be a woman in this world. Throughout the course of the evening, people chimed in about how something like this happened to them or someone they knew, or how they couldn't imagine going through this or that, or how they were inspired by the bravery and resilience it took for Raye Montague to ultimately become the hidden figure of the U.S. Navy. Of course, Raye faced hardships, as we all do, and ate her feelings and fears away with big bowls of butter pecan ice cream after work. Bottom line: you don't have to be an engineer or a hidden figure to find something relatable in her story. That's the thing I have always enjoyed about biographies, and probably the reason why I've been drawn to writing them. Not only do they provide us with a look at another person's life, but they give us the opportunity to appreciate different experiences and perspectives, while showing us our common humanity. We can all learn from and be inspired by each other, and I'm so grateful for yet another chance to talk about Raye's world and see how her story resonated with others. Many, many thanks to my gracious hosts for a very special evening! I so appreciate you!

Isn't it the moment of most profound doubt that gives birth to new certainties? Perhaps hopelessness is the very soil that nourishes human hope; perhaps one could never find sense in life without first experiencing its absurdity.

-- Vaclav Havel

Endnotes

What I'm reading

Yoko: A Biography by David Sheff. Ninety-two-year-old Yoko Ono has mostly been considered vis a vis the rather famous band everyone blames her for breaking up. Sheff, a longtime friend of hers, rightly states that Ono's life is about way more than the 14 years that she spent in that quartet's midst and as the partner of one of its co-founders. Before meeting this rather famous musician, Ono was an artist in her own right. As his partner, she really managed the family business and their investments in art, antiquity, and property. After seeing "Yoko Ono: Music of the Mind" at the Tate Modern last fall, it was probably inevitable that I would pick up this book. Yoko has long deserved a full biography of her truly fascinating life, and I'm enjoying getting to know her as a person in her own right and innovator in modern art.

London's Literary Parties

The Guardian had a piece this week about the newest wave of book events, which involve DJs and drinking and everything there is "funny, sexy and a bit weird." I'm at an age where if there's a DJ or loud music, I'm definitely leaning in and shouting "what's that you said there, sonny?" On the other hand, I love that these events are attracting big crowds, either for the party or the literary aspect, and that either way a bookish connection is made.

AI Book Lists

Within the past week, two major metropolitan newspapers (The Philadelphia Inquirer and The Chicago Sun-Times) ran AI-generated summer reading lists that featured several nonexistent books. What are we going to do as a society to make sure robot overlords are not leading us astray? We really need to rise up about this. I'm serious, because...damn...newspapers actually published book lists with nonexistent books! Stuff like this is why I have migraines...

What I'm watching

The new season of "Welcome to Wrexham." It sure beats watching Atlanta United right now. It also beats watching "Your Friends and Neighbors," which is just so full of awful people I can't bear it, and yet I'm eight episodes in, so I guess I need to ride it out. Anyway...I need some new show/movie recommendations if you have them. Hit reply and tell me what you're loving.

Where I hope you'll donate this week

Animals are good, but there are people out there that don't treat them right. Please consider a gift to the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals so you can help give a sweet creature a fresh start.

Next week: My conversation with artist Romero Britto, whose career took off after he designed a limited edition Absolut Vodka bottle. And who knows? Maybe I'll come up with a made-up summer reading list too, just to prove you don't need AI to do it. We'll see what the next few days bring...