Rabbit, rabbit! It is as coolly sunny outside as autumn. I do not expect it to last, but it looks nice. It brings all the usual ghosts.
I did not after all attend more than the first film of last night's marathon; we watched The African Queen (1952) and then we ran out for dinner at Saloniki and I looked seriously at my exhaustion levels and the fact that the movies I most wanted to see were not going on until midnight and three in the morning and we came home. I regret not seeing that much sea on a big screen, but I do not regret not feeling worse. I still didn't fall asleep until well after dawn, but at least I was in bed and not wrestling with the MBTA to get home to it. Have some links.
1. The original cast recording of the NYTF's Fidler afn dakh is now available and so are the lyrics in two languages and three versions. I will want that posthaste.
2. This comic about patriotism vs. nationalism is not recent, but I had not seen it before and it is relevant. See also Boston's "straight pride" parade.
3. In self-promoting news, my still-sole Lovecraftian story "All Our Salt-Bottled Hearts" has been positively reviewed by Bobby Derie at Deep Cuts in a Lovecraftian Vein: "It is wonderful in its way: bleak and unsparing as the love between distant cousins, tied together in the loose-knit way of diaspora, like seeking like, and yet feeling distant and alienated from their own kin. Because not everyone belongs. Not everyone can . . . and it isn't their fault. Isn't anyone's fault."
I forgot until I was reading someone else's social media that my high school graduation was twenty years ago this spring. I wonder if I missed a reunion.
I did not after all attend more than the first film of last night's marathon; we watched The African Queen (1952) and then we ran out for dinner at Saloniki and I looked seriously at my exhaustion levels and the fact that the movies I most wanted to see were not going on until midnight and three in the morning and we came home. I regret not seeing that much sea on a big screen, but I do not regret not feeling worse. I still didn't fall asleep until well after dawn, but at least I was in bed and not wrestling with the MBTA to get home to it. Have some links.
1. The original cast recording of the NYTF's Fidler afn dakh is now available and so are the lyrics in two languages and three versions. I will want that posthaste.
2. This comic about patriotism vs. nationalism is not recent, but I had not seen it before and it is relevant. See also Boston's "straight pride" parade.
3. In self-promoting news, my still-sole Lovecraftian story "All Our Salt-Bottled Hearts" has been positively reviewed by Bobby Derie at Deep Cuts in a Lovecraftian Vein: "It is wonderful in its way: bleak and unsparing as the love between distant cousins, tied together in the loose-knit way of diaspora, like seeking like, and yet feeling distant and alienated from their own kin. Because not everyone belongs. Not everyone can . . . and it isn't their fault. Isn't anyone's fault."
I forgot until I was reading someone else's social media that my high school graduation was twenty years ago this spring. I wonder if I missed a reunion.
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