Earlier this week, at approximately the same time that Crankenstein had a speaking engagement in front of an absurdly large audience, I received a message from someone who’d just read one of my reviews. He told me a bit about himself and wondered if he might recommend other movies for me to cover. His note made me smile — he’s a young gay aspiring film critic, as I was 500 years ago — and I thanked him for reaching out and welcomed his suggestions. Then I laughed to myself.
It’s funny how often something like that happens: I ask Crankenstein how her day went and she replies “Meetings, patients, and I got an interview request about my latest article.” Or she recaps a panel she participated in and mentions a lecture she was asked to give at an important conference. Then she asks about my day and I recite a short list of mundane accomplishments before adding “Someone asked if I’m ever going to write about Kristy McNichol’s Summer of My German Soldier.” Or “I fielded a question about Valerie Harper.”
“We all contribute in our own ways,” she once joked when I mused that we both possess very specific forms of expertise, except hers is useful and widely valued by society and mine is trivial and mostly appreciated by men with obsessive knowledge of Knots Landing and/or Santa Barbara, along with a handful of lesbians named Tammy. If you’re one of those lesbians or Ted Shackelford fans, I’d like to apologize for falling one review short of my Cranky goal this month. I’ll try to post a minimum of five in March.*
While I’m scribbling IOUs, here’s another: I’ve photographed my library borrows throughout the month and will finally share those this weekend. This was an odd week because, as anticipated, I had scores of free time as Crankenstein raced to meet deadlines, and mostly used it wisely but still feel like I have nothing to show for it. The fruits of my labor include two unfinished drafts that were meant to be posted here, one called “Burn After Reading” and the other “Same Trailer Different Park.”**
“Burn After Reading” is about internecine power struggles within my family that have been annoyingly revived by my sister’s recent announcements, but I’m reluctant to write about my sisters at all because Middle Sister’s girlfriend and Youngest Sister have rapacious appetites for shit-stirring and fireworks when the spirit moves them. Despite my anonymity here, I fear ending up on their radar and want to be left in peace to listen to Ron Chernow and Anne Applebaum audiobooks while dorkily painting birdhouses or folding laundry.
“Same Trailer Different Park” concerns intersecting topics: how different we often are from our siblings (despite being raised in the same households) and the challenges of sustaining relationships with people whose experiences and resulting values and expectations don’t necessarily align with ours. It also involves actual trailers — not cutesy vintage Airstreams but the dilapidated sort with meth-addled, sex offender neighbors. My brother-in-law was raised in one, as was my former partner, and there was a lot of advice I attempted to give my sister years ago that she had no interest in hearing, that I’m reminded of lately whenever we talk.^
If I can untangle my conflicting thoughts on these issues, those posts will be forthcoming. If not, you can add ’em to the IOU list.
* If I’m doing it properly, the reviews are a lot more time-intensive than they look. By which I mean they’re intended to be something fluffy that you can read on the fly while killing time somewhere, but each one usually takes hours to craft.
** I’m hesitant to deploy another Kacey Musgraves reference in a post title so quickly after “Follow Your Arrow,” but you play the hand you’re dealt.
^ Crankenstein’s grandmother retired to a trailer that she filled with stray cats, Elvis collectible plates and vast quantities of Crisco used for assorted beauty purposes, but that’s neither here nor there. And yes, meth-addled sex offenders are everywhere, including the wealthiest zip codes in the nation. The point is that familial backgrounds are complicated, and money and stability are complicated, and those issues can cause a lot of friction at any point in a relationship but especially when you’re young, inexperienced and pig-headed. Basically, my sister needs to watch Urban Cowboy and repair her marriage now, before a Madolyn Smith or Wes Hightower enters the picture.