Ghosts don't even try to haunt me
Rabbit, rabbit! I am having some trouble with December: it doesn't feel that we had a year since the last one, except that too many things have happened. My Klimt calender this month features Rose von Rosthorn-Friedmann, who does look like a winter dusk.
Having been reminded by![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
selkie that I had not seen it since the Cambrian radiation of late 2015, I rewatched The Maltese Falcon (1941). I have decided the best thing about Elisha Cook Jr. in the part of Wilmer is that he actually is rather pretty and so very terrible at any of his ostensible duties, from escorting a guest without losing his guns to searching a freighter without setting fire to it. One can easily imagine his place in Cairo's catalogue of grievances against Gutman's mishandling of the treasure hunt: involve the adventuress if you must, bring in the private investigator if you're sure he can be bought, but couldn't you have left the psycho himbo at home? I am charmed that in 1934 Theatre Arts Monthly set Cook after Hepburn in their "Roster of New Faces" and declared, "The theatre will be poorer if a newly-signed film contract takes him from the stage." I regret to inform the theater that I personally appreciate its pocket being picked.
I don't even remember the chain of thought that led to me realizing that last year I outlived Alan Turing and this year it was Walter Headlam. ("Congratulations?" offeredspatch.) Time, man.
Hestia settled as movie cat during the second half of They Drive by Night (1940).
Having been reminded by
selkie that I had not seen it since the Cambrian radiation of late 2015, I rewatched The Maltese Falcon (1941). I have decided the best thing about Elisha Cook Jr. in the part of Wilmer is that he actually is rather pretty and so very terrible at any of his ostensible duties, from escorting a guest without losing his guns to searching a freighter without setting fire to it. One can easily imagine his place in Cairo's catalogue of grievances against Gutman's mishandling of the treasure hunt: involve the adventuress if you must, bring in the private investigator if you're sure he can be bought, but couldn't you have left the psycho himbo at home? I am charmed that in 1934 Theatre Arts Monthly set Cook after Hepburn in their "Roster of New Faces" and declared, "The theatre will be poorer if a newly-signed film contract takes him from the stage." I regret to inform the theater that I personally appreciate its pocket being picked.
I don't even remember the chain of thought that led to me realizing that last year I outlived Alan Turing and this year it was Walter Headlam. ("Congratulations?" offered
spatch.) Time, man.Hestia settled as movie cat during the second half of They Drive by Night (1940).
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(I still appreciate your bringing the family tallis and doing hagbah, particularly since the portion was right at the front.)
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Compounded by this summer feeling like an entire year. Notes made about books or movies in the spring look distantly familiar. And I have not stopped missing Autolycus. He was part of every day.
(I still appreciate your bringing the family tallis and doing hagbah, particularly since the portion was right at the front.)
(I remain extremely glad to have been able to do so.)
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