ANGELA'S ASHES

Frank McCourt's father at his christening (to a priest who'd implicitly criticized his speakeasy habit): "Take off that collar and we'll see who's the man."

I've started reading Frank McCourt's memoir Angela's Ashes for my history group, for the second time. (The first time I read it, some fifteen years ago, I finished it in just four days or so:  it helped that I'd already seen the movie.) Depressing yet funny--I've heard that he developed the story from telling and retelling it over the years.  When they were interviewing him on 60 Minutes he said, "A Limerick man said to me, 'You shamed your mother, you shamed Limerick and you shamed Ireland!' A holy trinity of shame!" His Teacher Man is also excellent.

I had lunch with John Snow again yesterday. (We were going to eat at a new Indian restaurant called Ji, but it turned out that it's only open for dinner, so we went to Schnitzel Hub again.) Unfortunately, I didn't have much to talk about because so much of it I've already written on this blog, which he reads.

At opera rehearsal Beatrice said to the women doing the Gypsy Dance in Carmen, "Smile, ladies!...  Think of sex, think of shopping, think of ice cream, think of something that excites you!" I hope I have enough energy for the performances.

Someone compared Donald Trump's adviser Steve Bannon to Tony Soprano, and Trump himself to Tony's protege Christopher Moltisanti.  If you ask me, Trump is more like the twisted gangster Ralph Cifaretto!