He might ha' been that, or he might ha' been this, but they love and they hate him for what he is

I wanted to write about movies after I finished my work for the day, but it looks like I just burnt out temporarily and should go to bed instead. Bryan Cranston looks more like Denholm Elliott every time I see another picture of him. It's the general bone structure, but specifically the way his face has broken up into lines and his eyebrows fit into them, something about the line of his mouth as well; in that screencap, the glint in his eye. Attempting to locate some pictures of Elliott from the '70's to prove my point, I found instead the prettiest portrait of a youthful Denholm Elliott I have ever seen in my life:



That's younger than I've ever seen him on film. 1951 in New York—he must have been playing Hugo and Frédéric in Christopher Fry's Ring Round the Moon (1950), which I have read and thought I owned but do not see on the playscript/screenplay shelf behind me. I wonder if that means it's in a box or if I have lost it. I don't see A Winter's Tale (1951) or The Dark is Light Enough (1954), either, but I don't believe Elliott was in either of those.

I need to rest up before the weekend. Bed.

There's no wind along these seas, so we must wake the white-ash breeze

My poem "Post-Millennial Augury Blues" was accepted last night by Through the Gate and is now online. It was written a few days after November's election, watching other people's responses and thinking about my own. Everyone wants to think they would have been heroic in the past, but everyone knows how the past turned out. You have to be heroic now, not knowing the ending of the story.

Toward that end, I baked oatmeal cookies with sour cherries, met Dean for tea in Harvard Square, and bought my husband a book for his birthday, which is tomorrow.