1. Happy birthday, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rushthatspeaks! My best cousin, whom I love so: I am glad you're in this world.
2. I am afraid that Samuel Morse is undergoing a critical reappraisal as a painter. This is the second article about his artwork I've seen in two days. I understand his Gallery of the Louvre (1831–1833) might be a priceless snapshot of Morse's tastes and encouragement of the American museum-going public. The problem is, he also painted this. It hangs in the new American wing of the MFA and I marvel at it every time I visit. Perhaps "boggle" is the more accurate word. Little Miss Hone (1824). Probably she grew up to be somebody's society wife, because the nineteenth century was depressing like that, but I like to think she never wore pink again and if she kept cats, they were Isabella Stewart Gardner's leopards.
3. Speaking of cats, sort of: Haruki Murakami, "Town of Cats" in The New Yorker.
4.rosefox on the guideline changes to the Lambda Literary Awards. Read.
5. When Jerry Leiber died last week, the shock was not that I knew so many of his songs with Mike Stoller, but that they turned out to be by the same people—I mean, "Is That All There Is?" and "Love Potion No. 9"? Nonetheless, I'd go to see their musical about Oscar Wilde.
What I am going to see tonight is La strada (1954) at the Coolidge Corner Theatre. I was supposed to be in New York for the Marvell Rep's staged reading of Sholem Asch's God of Vengeance, but it's been postponed due to transportation issues in the wake of Irene—and someone from the theater called this morning to make sure I'd gotten the e-mail and wasn't making the trip for nothing. That's a kind of astonishing thoughtfulness, even for a small company. I already knew I liked their taste in plays. Now I feel like sending roses.
rushthatspeaks! My best cousin, whom I love so: I am glad you're in this world.2. I am afraid that Samuel Morse is undergoing a critical reappraisal as a painter. This is the second article about his artwork I've seen in two days. I understand his Gallery of the Louvre (1831–1833) might be a priceless snapshot of Morse's tastes and encouragement of the American museum-going public. The problem is, he also painted this. It hangs in the new American wing of the MFA and I marvel at it every time I visit. Perhaps "boggle" is the more accurate word. Little Miss Hone (1824). Probably she grew up to be somebody's society wife, because the nineteenth century was depressing like that, but I like to think she never wore pink again and if she kept cats, they were Isabella Stewart Gardner's leopards.
3. Speaking of cats, sort of: Haruki Murakami, "Town of Cats" in The New Yorker.
4.
rosefox on the guideline changes to the Lambda Literary Awards. Read.5. When Jerry Leiber died last week, the shock was not that I knew so many of his songs with Mike Stoller, but that they turned out to be by the same people—I mean, "Is That All There Is?" and "Love Potion No. 9"? Nonetheless, I'd go to see their musical about Oscar Wilde.
What I am going to see tonight is La strada (1954) at the Coolidge Corner Theatre. I was supposed to be in New York for the Marvell Rep's staged reading of Sholem Asch's God of Vengeance, but it's been postponed due to transportation issues in the wake of Irene—and someone from the theater called this morning to make sure I'd gotten the e-mail and wasn't making the trip for nothing. That's a kind of astonishing thoughtfulness, even for a small company. I already knew I liked their taste in plays. Now I feel like sending roses.
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