'Cause there's no sleep for the dead
For the birthday of my husband ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rushthatspeaks, we measured my parents' driveway, but we also got fried clams and scallops from Kelly's and cake and donuts from Lyndell's and discovered the existence of a tiki bar in Harvard Square whose takeout possibilities we are definitely going to explore. Thanks to the construction of a patio since last we ate there, we may be able to celebrate our anniversary next month at our traditional restaurant for the first time since 2019.
Yesterday I spent mostly flat as a sheet of blotting paper, reading Armstrong Sperry's All Sail Set (1935) which I recognized at once in the bookstore of the Oceanic Hotel on Star Island, despite not having thought about it in the years since elementary school where it paired itself in my head with Holling Clancy Holling's Seabird (1948), which I loved even more. I had forgotten how much Sperry's narrative addresses itself to the assumed audience of every boy who thrills naturally to the romance of the sea. It never occurred to me that the minutiae of clipper ships would not have a universal appeal.
In my dream, I knew that the noir starring Charles Laughton and Harry Morgan did not exist and was more or less my brain's subconscious remix of the noir starring Charles Laughton and Burgess Meredith, making it all the more irritating that neither of these movies—which were not, obviously, either The Big Clock (1948) or The Man on the Eiffel Tower (1950)—actually existed when I woke up.
rushthatspeaks, we measured my parents' driveway, but we also got fried clams and scallops from Kelly's and cake and donuts from Lyndell's and discovered the existence of a tiki bar in Harvard Square whose takeout possibilities we are definitely going to explore. Thanks to the construction of a patio since last we ate there, we may be able to celebrate our anniversary next month at our traditional restaurant for the first time since 2019.Yesterday I spent mostly flat as a sheet of blotting paper, reading Armstrong Sperry's All Sail Set (1935) which I recognized at once in the bookstore of the Oceanic Hotel on Star Island, despite not having thought about it in the years since elementary school where it paired itself in my head with Holling Clancy Holling's Seabird (1948), which I loved even more. I had forgotten how much Sperry's narrative addresses itself to the assumed audience of every boy who thrills naturally to the romance of the sea. It never occurred to me that the minutiae of clipper ships would not have a universal appeal.
In my dream, I knew that the noir starring Charles Laughton and Harry Morgan did not exist and was more or less my brain's subconscious remix of the noir starring Charles Laughton and Burgess Meredith, making it all the more irritating that neither of these movies—which were not, obviously, either The Big Clock (1948) or The Man on the Eiffel Tower (1950)—actually existed when I woke up.
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I wish I could show them to you! Or at least point to the multiversal Internet Archive!
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cheers
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*hugs*
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I was exactly like this with "Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea"--what do you mean, those endless and detailed descriptions of sea-life aren't everyone's cup of tea? XD
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Thank you! I'm still working on the lots of rest, but I am working on it.
I was exactly like this with "Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea"--what do you mean, those endless and detailed descriptions of sea-life aren't everyone's cup of tea?
You understand! (I am sure you will be shocked that I also read 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.)
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<3 Fingers crossed!
I am absolutely shocked! ;)
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I would burn you copies!