And our care lies in the telegraph poles and the taxi to the station

[sovay]

Today I had blocked out for work interspersed with lying on a couch, but then shortly after dinner I discovered that the Brattle was showing Ida Lupino's Not Wanted (1949) which I had not been able to see in New York in November, and so I raced out into the black-ice night to view an incisive and compassionate drama about what may still be called unwed motherhood and it was great; I hope to write about it and I may go back for The Bigamist (1953) tomorrow. Then I got on the bus to come home and despite my loudly broadcast signals of reading this book, not making eye contact, not interacting a man talked to me about his medications, his roommates, what a beautiful girl I was, who were my parents, was I going home to my boyfriend, he has a good memory for faces, he hopes to see me around soon. I kept hoping he would get off the bus before I did so that he would not see even in which neighborhood I lived. He did not. He tried to call my stop for me. So I got home in a rather more elevated state of adrenaline than I had left the theater. But I'm three for three so far on Lupino's filmography and that's nice, Mrs. Lincoln. I am trying to decide if I would call this one, too, a noir.

Comments

[a_reasonable_man]

I'm glad you got to see the movie, but very sorry you had that experience. Until the revolution comes, while you're still have to deal with guys who will not take hints (or who even pretend, like this guy apparently did, not to notice that you're wearing a ring), there's always the fake a phone call option:

https://www.wikihow.com/Fake-a-Cell-Phone-Call

[sovay]

I'm glad you got to see the movie, but very sorry you had that experience.

Thanks. At least I didn't meet him after seeing Outrage. That would have been way too on the nose.

(or who even pretend, like this guy apparently did, not to notice that you're wearing a ring)

You know, that didn't even cross my mind. I think of it as jewelry I wear for its importance to me, not as a piece of social signaling. But it totally does work that way! So what was with asking me about my boyfriend?