There's no boat to take me where all the stars go to cross the water
It has been snowing lightly and steadily since I woke this morning. Those five hours of sleep were the most I have gotten in a seven-day week. At the moment a sort of bleach-silvered effect has started around the overcast sun: it seems to make the west-facing windows across the street reflect mercury-green. There were sunshowers in the snowfall, but not while I was out walking.
The yew tree outside my office window has turned into an icefall.
Winter advances, shrugging the fences aside.
The stump is bedded in snow and capped for some reason with a short stack of traffic cones, but the fungus that![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
luzula identified for me in December unfurls its undaunted shelves. There may still be some Schizophyllum commune fuzzed in there, too.
We decided this one was a Ganoderma, although at the moment it's an awning.
I found a whole side yard of dead hydrangeas. They had become paper art.
The telephone wires like a circus act.
The stairs into the snow.
I can tell that my ability to think in media is reviving because in twenty-six years it had never occurred to me to fancast Stefan Fabbre and all of a sudden I thought that, fair-haired, dry-voiced, the moody, unsteady one in the family, in 1976 he would have been in Clive Francis' wheelhouse.gwynnega has suggested that Millard Lampell deserves his own Library of America volume and I'd order it in a hot second.
The yew tree outside my office window has turned into an icefall.
Winter advances, shrugging the fences aside.
The stump is bedded in snow and capped for some reason with a short stack of traffic cones, but the fungus that
luzula identified for me in December unfurls its undaunted shelves. There may still be some Schizophyllum commune fuzzed in there, too.
We decided this one was a Ganoderma, although at the moment it's an awning.
I found a whole side yard of dead hydrangeas. They had become paper art.
The telephone wires like a circus act.
The stairs into the snow.
I can tell that my ability to think in media is reviving because in twenty-six years it had never occurred to me to fancast Stefan Fabbre and all of a sudden I thought that, fair-haired, dry-voiced, the moody, unsteady one in the family, in 1976 he would have been in Clive Francis' wheelhouse.
gwynnega has suggested that Millard Lampell deserves his own Library of America volume and I'd order it in a hot second.
no subject
no subject
Thank you!
no subject
no subject
You're welcome! *hugs* for the rest.
no subject
I wonder how the Library of America chooses which authors to include?
no subject
Thank you!
I wonder how the Library of America chooses which authors to include?
I don't know! I am seriously considering just writing and asking if they have considered him. They publish noir and science fiction and sports writing and the collected lyrics of Cole Porter. I didn't even know James Agee wrote poetry! If it isn't them, it's going to have to be some academic press or the NYRB. I know that not everything does or can stay in print, but Lampell should not be so hard to find.
no subject
You should! The NYRB could work for reprinting an individual novel, but since Lampell did so many different kinds of writing, a collection would be really nice.
no subject
I was thinking of the way that the screenplay for The Night of the Hunter (1951) is included with Agee's film criticism!
no subject
all of a sudden I thought that, fair-haired, dry-voiced, the moody, unsteady one in the family, in 1976 he would have been in Clive Francis' wheelhouse
Ha, that does indeed sound like someone who ought to have been played by Clive Francis!
<3
no subject
Thank you so much! Your blossoming tree is unreal to me: it's snowing again as we speak. A gritter just went down the street.
Ha, that does indeed sound like someone who ought to have been played by Clive Francis!
Twenty-six years my favorite character in his book, surprise.
no subject
no subject
I am glad you like them!
(The whole side of the tree was like that, poured into ice.)