L'shanah tovah, all. Yesterday was composed mostly of computer surgery with time off for a screening of Peeping Tom (1960) at the HFA. This afternoon I saw three short silent films starring Douglas Fairbanks, Sr. and this evening I am checking my e-mail on Bertie Owen, who now has a solid-state drive in place of his previous hard drive and all of my data on it. He's not immortal, but he's not dead yet, and I am slowly accustoming myself to the fact that I cannot hear his disks spinning and whining anymore. We celebrated Rosh Hashanah with my family in Lexington, with chicken and challah and honeycake, and we have no faith that the cats will not make a play for the latter. They know a sweet year when they see one.
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- 1: And they won't thank you, they don't make awards for that
- 2: But the soft and lovely silvers are now falling on my shoulder
- 3: What does it do when we're asleep?
- 4: Now where did you get that from, John le Carré?
- 5: Put your circuits in the sea
- 6: Sure as the morning light when frigid love and fallen doves take flight
- 7: No one who can stand staying landlocked for longer than a month at most
- 8: And in the end they might even thank me with a garden in my name
- 9: I'd marry her this minute if she only would agree
- 10: And me? Well, I'm just the narrator
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