Fortunately, today I upgraded from feeling like crap to feeling like movable crap, so I spent the afternoon with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rushthatspeaks and the last two acts of Pandora's Box (1929). The last sequence with Jack the Ripper is amazing. (Nonetheless, I maintain that in a universe with even a handful of common sense, Lulu should totally have run off with the Countess Geschwitz. Alwa was useless.) Presently gaudior showed up and we talked poetry; they went to a reading group and I bought tickets for the upcoming one-week run of the restored print of Metropolis (1927) at the Coolidge Corner Theatre. I am not pleased that Rodney's is about to go extinct, but I feel no guilt about profiting from its fifty-percent-off closing sale to the tune of Claude Calame's The Craft of Poetic Speech in Ancient Greece (trans. Janice Orion, 1995), T.E. Lawrence's Minorities (1972—not poems by Lawrence, but favorite poems of his, which he copied into a notebook and carried everywhere with him), and the playscript for David Edgar's The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby, Part One (1982). By that point in the evening I had gone back to feeling as though I should not move possibly ever again, so I came home and fell over and watched some more Night Court. I am becoming increasingly fond of John Larroquette's Dan Fielding, even though he belongs to that class of characters whom in real life I would probably pepper-spray. Tomorrow I am supposed to see eredien. Maybe by then I'll feel like my nose and throat are no longer trying to kill me.
rushthatspeaks and the last two acts of Pandora's Box (1929). The last sequence with Jack the Ripper is amazing. (Nonetheless, I maintain that in a universe with even a handful of common sense, Lulu should totally have run off with the Countess Geschwitz. Alwa was useless.) Presently gaudior showed up and we talked poetry; they went to a reading group and I bought tickets for the upcoming one-week run of the restored print of Metropolis (1927) at the Coolidge Corner Theatre. I am not pleased that Rodney's is about to go extinct, but I feel no guilt about profiting from its fifty-percent-off closing sale to the tune of Claude Calame's The Craft of Poetic Speech in Ancient Greece (trans. Janice Orion, 1995), T.E. Lawrence's Minorities (1972—not poems by Lawrence, but favorite poems of his, which he copied into a notebook and carried everywhere with him), and the playscript for David Edgar's The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby, Part One (1982). By that point in the evening I had gone back to feeling as though I should not move possibly ever again, so I came home and fell over and watched some more Night Court. I am becoming increasingly fond of John Larroquette's Dan Fielding, even though he belongs to that class of characters whom in real life I would probably pepper-spray. Tomorrow I am supposed to see eredien. Maybe by then I'll feel like my nose and throat are no longer trying to kill me.
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