![]() ![]() Quite often I would ask the desk for the time every half hour or so, until finally, embarrassed to ask again, I would call Los Angeles and ask my husband. I needed a watch not during the day, when I could turn on the car radio or ask someone, but at night, in the motel. There is on this list one significant omission, one article I needed and never had: a watch. It should be clear that this was a list made by someone who prized control, yearned after momentum, someone determined to play her role as if she had the script, heard her cues, knew the narrative. Notice the typewriter for the airport, coming home: the idea was to turn in the Hertz car, check in, find an empty bench, and start typing the day’s notes. Notice the bourbon for the same motel room. ![]() no blankets) and for the motel room in which the air conditioning could not be turned off. ![]() Notice the mohair throw for trunk-line flights (i.e. Notice the deliberate anonymity of costume: in a skirt, a leotard and stockings, I could pass on either side of the culture. The list enabled me to pack, without thinking, for any piece I was likely to do. "This is a list which was taped inside my closet door in Hollywood during those years when I was reporting more or less steadily. ![]() It was printed, along with Didion’s own analysis of it, in her 1979 collection of nonfiction, The White Album. The succinct travel list below, taped inside Joan Didion’s closet door in Malibu for many years, consisted of everything the author needed when she set out on assignment. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |