And should you glimpse my wandering form out on the borderline

[sovay]

Happy birthday, ungodchild!

My poem "Migration" is now online at Lone Star Stories. It was written in 2006 as an exercise in mainstream poetry, which failed, but I'm not complaining about the results.

Two nights ago was a DVD sale at Barnes & Noble. Guess who now owns Criterion's 1938 Pygmalion? I should probably write something more eloquent about this film than sorry, Rex Harrison.

Today was my grandfather's birthday observed; my aunt Naomi is in from San Francisco, and my brother and his fiancée crashed earlier this evening. To anyone who has ever wondered if it's possible to make a lemon meringue shortcake, the answer is yes, but it has an incredibly short lifespan.

This cold should buzz off, please. I have things I need to do.

Comments

[papersky.livejournal.com]

They changed the end of the 1938 Pygmalion from the stage version, and not to its advantage. Other than that, I liked it a lot.

[sovay]

They changed the end of the 1938 Pygmalion from the stage version, and not to its advantage.

It works for me, possibly because I grew up on My Fair Lady—I had always wondered when the romantic element was introduced from play to musical, and now I know; the film is the fossil link between them—and if you want me to buy any kind of connection between Eliza and Henry Higgins, frankly I'll believe Leslie Howard and Wendy Hiller much more readily than Audrey Hepburn and Rex Harrison. But I like the non-Shavian twist that all the while Higgins thinks he's fashioning a duchess out of a squashed cabbage leaf, he's being knocked himself into something like human shape: Pygmalion both ways. That interests me more than whether I think they marry.