I'm in the Hamptons this weekend for the film festival.
It's been lovely. We saw a film last night wherein Marianne Faithfull plays a British woman who goes to work in a London sex shop to help pay medical bills for her terminally ill grandson and ends up becoming the handjob queen of London.
At one point she gets a condition known as 'penis elbow' and has to wear a brace. Afterwards the friend I saw it with and I ran into another friend wearing a brace. We had to look away.
Today we saw a collection of short films. Some were bad but a couple were great.
One was a twelve-minute documentary a young filmmaker made of the fight he and his wife have about his career choice and how much she hates it. It was interesting and frustrating. I couldn't help but agree with both of them.
The highlight, however, was hearing the director and his wife at the Q&A afterwards, seeing that the same issues still exist for them but that they have worked with them regardless.
The weekend has also included catching up with summer friends now doing a winter house, yoga at Mandala, Talkhouse, Bobby Van's, and rugby World Cup finals at the new barbecue place in Wainscott when the sun was shining just so over the cornfield in back.
It's all been just right, in other words.
The blog title is a lyric from "Truckin." It's a Grateful Dead song.
When we were driving out yesterday I got a text from a friend that was a minor disappointment. It's a long story but needless to say it put me in a funk. But the thing about a thwarted expectation, the thing I got within a few hours of getting the text, is that when certain things don't work out other things do.
And there's still one more day left in this weekend.
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