When the sun goes down and the die is cast

[sovay]

I walked home tonight under flowering trees, including the kind that smell like fish. The sky around the moon in its mirrors of cloud was so blue, it looked like a night scene from a silent film, where the sun is plainly shining on the far side of the trees. I could never tell what time it was in Dreyer's Vampyr (1932), but then again neither could the protagonist.

It was Ludwig Wittgenstein's birthday today. I will rewatch Jarman's film for him as soon as I can retrieve it from its box. Last winter, I wrote a poem about him for my godchild, who as of this afternoon has two legal parents. Mazel tov to them and all the ghosts that hang around their house, difficult and kindly.

I will come back with some more of my art tomorrow.

Comments

[sovay]

Bradford Pears?

I don't know! I feel like I've never known what they are! They're planted on city streets, they produce masses of greenish-white blossom in clusters, and they smell like fish! derspatchel always thought they were dogwoods, but we had dogwoods for years and they don't smell like that. The Bradford pear sounds as good a guess as any, but I'll have to look for pictures.

Seconded. (thirded?)

Hey, they deserve all the mazel they can get.

\o/

That may have sounded more dramatic than it needed to; I'm in Lexington for the day, doing things around the house. I'm coming back to Somerville in the evening with more art to hang on the walls. I am making my space mine.