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An interesting fossil for future study
1. My poem "In a Funny Kind of Way" is now online at Polu Texni: A Magazine of Many Arts. It was directly inspired by The Petrified Forest (1936) and takes its title from a line spoken by Leslie Howard's drifter to Bette Davis' artistic, ambitious waitress: "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps we will be happy together, in a funny kind of way." His own death is contained in that agreement, but she has no reason to suspect it—he always sounds ironic, unserious, double-speaking. He's my favorite character in the movie, but if I were Davis, I'd have been furious with him. I might be anyway.
(The illustration is August Macke's Gorge (Schlucht), done in watercolor when he was in Tunisia with Paul Klee and Louis Moilliet in 1914, and I love it.)
2. I had noticed that it is now possible to get schmaltz in restaurants, but I thought it was just Bronwyn: I didn't realize that Ashkenazi food was undergoing a revival. I will have to pick up Michael Wex's new book. I don't want to be reminded that his Born to Kvetch (2005) currently lives in a box with the rest of my library, but it's terrific.
3. This is exactly what happens when I try to take my leave of Autolycus. His eyes are greener, of course. He is a very good cat.
4. I have also been sending this video of a very conscientious kitten to people who need de-stressing.
5. Damn it, Brattle, please show Psycho (1960) some weekend other than Mother's Day. It's a digital screening, so I don't have to care quite so much, but I am beginning to feel that my desire to see this movie in a theater without irony constitutes an actual quest. Everyone has to have one, I guess, but I always thought mine would involve more dead languages and less junk psychology.
I need to review some movies. I need to get some regular sleep. Last week was a disaster: I got eight and a half hours on Friday night after the seder, but the next night I was kept awake by pain until well into the morning. I didn't have good dreams last night, but I had dreams, so that had better count for something.
(The illustration is August Macke's Gorge (Schlucht), done in watercolor when he was in Tunisia with Paul Klee and Louis Moilliet in 1914, and I love it.)
2. I had noticed that it is now possible to get schmaltz in restaurants, but I thought it was just Bronwyn: I didn't realize that Ashkenazi food was undergoing a revival. I will have to pick up Michael Wex's new book. I don't want to be reminded that his Born to Kvetch (2005) currently lives in a box with the rest of my library, but it's terrific.
3. This is exactly what happens when I try to take my leave of Autolycus. His eyes are greener, of course. He is a very good cat.
4. I have also been sending this video of a very conscientious kitten to people who need de-stressing.
5. Damn it, Brattle, please show Psycho (1960) some weekend other than Mother's Day. It's a digital screening, so I don't have to care quite so much, but I am beginning to feel that my desire to see this movie in a theater without irony constitutes an actual quest. Everyone has to have one, I guess, but I always thought mine would involve more dead languages and less junk psychology.
I need to review some movies. I need to get some regular sleep. Last week was a disaster: I got eight and a half hours on Friday night after the seder, but the next night I was kept awake by pain until well into the morning. I didn't have good dreams last night, but I had dreams, so that had better count for something.
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Thank you!
I hope good sleep with good dreams finds you soon.
Last night's were just weird: a nonexistent friend of mine had almost certainly plagiarized his first novel for which he was receiving tons of acclaim and money while refusing to talk to me about it and the wider fan/writer community was giving me static for presumably knowing about it and not stopping him, or even helping him, in which case they wanted to boycott my books (I guess in this nightmare I had books that actually sold). In the meantime he was trying to sponge money off my mother and I was trying to get him out of my life, because we hadn't seen each other in a couple of years and in that time he had evidently become a first-rate creep. It was uncomfortable and unresolved when I woke up and I'm not quite sure where it came from. I was especially angry about it in the dream because I had just placed a story with a mer-themed anthology and I wanted people to read it.