I wish all my kids would stop dressing up like Richard Hell
Things that did not actually happen this week: me recuperating any of my lost sleep. Other things that did not therefore happen this week: me getting anything done that required my brain and was not my job. I don't even know how to describe how I feel, except it's bad.
I did manage to get to Perry Henzell's The Harder They Come (1972) last night with![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rushthatspeaks for their birthday. It was just as good—and its soundtrack just as legendary—as I had been led to believe. I got home and looked up star and iconic songwriter Jimmy Cliff and discovered I had seen his daughter in 2016: Nabiyah Be, who originated Eurydice off-Broadway in Hadestown. That is a family with no shortage of mythic charisma.
I am trying to figure out why Momus' "I Was a Maoist Intellectual," Alabaster dePlume's "Is It Enough," and Black Country, New Road's "Sunglasses" all seem to constellate in my head. They are all talky, satirical, self-referential songs, but that doesn't feel like an explanation. The last, however, features the best saxophone skronk I've heard since Poly Styrene or Lora Logic.
I will be spending a portion of this weekend at the HFA's all-night half-marathon; this year's theme is Dark Waters. At least I can get the sea onscreen.
ETA:spatch has just sent me an archaeological record of sea otters. And a delightful and contextually mystifying photo of Anthony Perkins on the set of Psycho (1960). I appreciate these things.
I did manage to get to Perry Henzell's The Harder They Come (1972) last night with
rushthatspeaks for their birthday. It was just as good—and its soundtrack just as legendary—as I had been led to believe. I got home and looked up star and iconic songwriter Jimmy Cliff and discovered I had seen his daughter in 2016: Nabiyah Be, who originated Eurydice off-Broadway in Hadestown. That is a family with no shortage of mythic charisma.I am trying to figure out why Momus' "I Was a Maoist Intellectual," Alabaster dePlume's "Is It Enough," and Black Country, New Road's "Sunglasses" all seem to constellate in my head. They are all talky, satirical, self-referential songs, but that doesn't feel like an explanation. The last, however, features the best saxophone skronk I've heard since Poly Styrene or Lora Logic.
I will be spending a portion of this weekend at the HFA's all-night half-marathon; this year's theme is Dark Waters. At least I can get the sea onscreen.
ETA:
spatch has just sent me an archaeological record of sea otters. And a delightful and contextually mystifying photo of Anthony Perkins on the set of Psycho (1960). I appreciate these things.
no subject
I've skipped HFA marathons in the past, but I've been looking forward to this one for months and its twelve-hour duration happens to coincide with times of night I have not actually been sleeping lately, anyway. Unless I feel really like the dead by this evening, at least it will give me something nice to look at while I feel like I am failing at everything else in my life.
And anyway, this advice is probably too late.
It's not. I appreciate the concern.
[edit] We went to one film, then we went to dinner, then we came home.