Whose buddies all knew him as Gustav

I have been having a run of the kind of days where I can't understand why my body keeps waking up at all. In the afternoon, spatch showed me a mural he had found a few days ago, which the owners of the house should be frequently complimented on, and in the evening we watched Ken Russell's Mahler (1974), which with all due thanks to gwynnega for the recommendation we turned out to love. Autolycus sleeps with his tail wrapped beneath his ears like a pillow. My ability to watch movies seems to have returned to a normal level; the time I have to write about them has not. The number of problems the institution of universal basic income would solve for me is honestly not small.

Waiting in time for your seasons

The major accomplishment of the day has been the baking of hamantashn, but now we have hamantashn, so it was worth it. I am thinking a lemon cake for this year's leftover poppy seed paste. I appreciate that someone who was very dear to me twenty years ago still texts me Borscht Belt-grade Purimspiel jokes.

P.S. Another Face (1935) is a Hollywood comedy of self-reflexive crime and farce without too much going on upstairs to weigh it down, but its most delightful feature is extra-diegetic: when we looked up the blonde leading lady with the wonderfully expressive voice and a face that would play today, we discovered that Phyllis Brooks was married to Torbert Macdonald, the eponym of our beloved Torbert Macdonald State Park on the Mystic. How close to home!