10.05 p.m. It’s on right now, and I TURNED IT OFF. Imagine, I’ve reclaimed a whole evening of my life from the Oscars. I tried to watch, though I was flipping to an opera starring Placido Domingo during the commercials – but when they gave the best make-up award to the team responsible for Meryl Streep’s neck wrinkles instead of to the Harry Potter folk, I turned it off. The event is too stupid and meaningless for words, not to mention the multi-millions poured into stupid dresses worn for one night. Meaningless and silly. Anyway, all the good stuff will be on the internet in seconds. There is a live feed I can check on every so often to see what’s going on. But in the meantime, I’m reading.
Yes, I’m reading French “Elle” magazine, rather than “Your Brain on Music” or one of the 46 “New Yorkers” waiting or my new library book “Memoir Writing.” But at least I’m reading.
Billy Crystal sang the intro off-key. Should have turned it off right then. Bah humbug.
10.27 p.m. Okay, it’s on, but on mute much of the time, and I’m not facing the TV, I’m sitting sideways and glancing every so often. When I saw on-line that I’d missed a funny speech by Christopher Plummer, I turned it on. But I’m HARDLY WATCHING AT ALL.
11.19. Big night for France. I hate the awards that are so close. Gary Oldman was superb, and the others too – could have been anyone. But the French guy no one in America has heard of? Who can understand those voters?
