I dreamed last night that TCM was running a film festival of character actors from the early days of film to the present day. I think my brain is trying to cheer me up. Unlike most of the art I dream about, this is the kind of thing that could actually happen. I can't do much about the actors who don't exist in waking life, sadly.
I had no idea there was an opera of David Jones' In Parenthesis (1937). For years it has been one of my favorite bewilderingly obscure works of art; I am glad to see that's changing. Also, I get the impression I should read Owen Sheers.
I think I have come down sick. My entire body hurts, I slept almost eight hours, and I feel worse than I did when I went to bed. That always feels particularly unfair.
I had no idea there was an opera of David Jones' In Parenthesis (1937). For years it has been one of my favorite bewilderingly obscure works of art; I am glad to see that's changing. Also, I get the impression I should read Owen Sheers.
I think I have come down sick. My entire body hurts, I slept almost eight hours, and I feel worse than I did when I went to bed. That always feels particularly unfair.
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