I had a dreadful allergic night and did not fall asleep until after dawn. What I really want to do is just stay in bed for the rest of the week, which is not an option because the rest of my week is busy and next week is not better.
I did enjoy dreaming that I watched Dane Clark in a wildly anachronistic bargain-basement Psycho knock-off: shy boyish man, sweet doddering mother, a lot of decapitations. It came around on TCM as a late-night cult item, I think. The sets and the cinematography had a grainy, mid-'60's TV look despite Clark being twenty years younger—and in color, as I have never seen him in real life—and the corn-syrup splatter of a '70's grindhouse feature. I remember appreciating that the murders were even-handed, no singling out of attractively frightened young women, and wondering how on earth Clark got into it. I was planning to write about it and then I woke up.
Oh, and our power went out last night with the thunderstorm. The whole street. For most of the night. Apparently that is just what happens around here now when it rains. The storm itself was wonderful, wild and buffeting: the air smelled of salt and petrichor.
I am tired of making these fragmentary little entries, although they are important to me for keeping track of time. I need the space to write about a lot of things, including movies.
I did enjoy dreaming that I watched Dane Clark in a wildly anachronistic bargain-basement Psycho knock-off: shy boyish man, sweet doddering mother, a lot of decapitations. It came around on TCM as a late-night cult item, I think. The sets and the cinematography had a grainy, mid-'60's TV look despite Clark being twenty years younger—and in color, as I have never seen him in real life—and the corn-syrup splatter of a '70's grindhouse feature. I remember appreciating that the murders were even-handed, no singling out of attractively frightened young women, and wondering how on earth Clark got into it. I was planning to write about it and then I woke up.
Oh, and our power went out last night with the thunderstorm. The whole street. For most of the night. Apparently that is just what happens around here now when it rains. The storm itself was wonderful, wild and buffeting: the air smelled of salt and petrichor.
I am tired of making these fragmentary little entries, although they are important to me for keeping track of time. I need the space to write about a lot of things, including movies.
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