I get my family—I get a rest
Today's primary events: doctor's appointment in the early afternoon and on either side taking Autolycus to and from the vet with the invaluable assistance of ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rushthatspeaks (and later Fox). This process began at five-thirty in the morning and concluded at five in the evening. At one point a taxi was involved. I have slept half an hour since yesterday. I immensely appreciate spatch ordering dinner.
(Autolycus is home safe, fed and washed, and now being hissed at by his sister who if she follows the usual pattern will tell him he smells funny for about the next four days, then groom his ears violently and forget all about it.)
It appears to be an unforeseen side effect of Cleopatra (1963) that I have had the entire score of Sondheim's A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum rotating through my head for the last forty-eight hours; Carry On Cleo (1964) is probably the missing link. As a person who grew up on the original 1963 London cast of Forum with Frankie Howerd rather than the original 1962 Broadway cast with Zero Mostel, I will never cease to be delighted by the existence of Up Pompeii! (1969–70), but I am disappointed that all the episodes currently available on YouTube are the cropped-and-zoomed kind in hopes of evading official notice. So much for staring at that any time soon.
On a different note entirely, it was only last night that I realized Hope Mirrlees' Lud-in-the-Mist (1926) contains the earliest instance I have personally seen in fiction of that seasonally appropriate horror trope, the carnival of the dead. That novel is seriously underrated as a work of the uncanny.
That's it for mental capacity around here. I am going to lie on a couch until the pizza arrives.
rushthatspeaks (and later Fox). This process began at five-thirty in the morning and concluded at five in the evening. At one point a taxi was involved. I have slept half an hour since yesterday. I immensely appreciate spatch ordering dinner.(Autolycus is home safe, fed and washed, and now being hissed at by his sister who if she follows the usual pattern will tell him he smells funny for about the next four days, then groom his ears violently and forget all about it.)
It appears to be an unforeseen side effect of Cleopatra (1963) that I have had the entire score of Sondheim's A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum rotating through my head for the last forty-eight hours; Carry On Cleo (1964) is probably the missing link. As a person who grew up on the original 1963 London cast of Forum with Frankie Howerd rather than the original 1962 Broadway cast with Zero Mostel, I will never cease to be delighted by the existence of Up Pompeii! (1969–70), but I am disappointed that all the episodes currently available on YouTube are the cropped-and-zoomed kind in hopes of evading official notice. So much for staring at that any time soon.
On a different note entirely, it was only last night that I realized Hope Mirrlees' Lud-in-the-Mist (1926) contains the earliest instance I have personally seen in fiction of that seasonally appropriate horror trope, the carnival of the dead. That novel is seriously underrated as a work of the uncanny.
That's it for mental capacity around here. I am going to lie on a couch until the pizza arrives.
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I managed to read Stardust before Lud-in-the-Mist, which in hindsight was the right if inadvertent choice, because the other way around I don't think I would have liked Stardust very much at all. I bounce consistently off Gaiman's prose fiction, however, and understand that many readers do not feel this way.
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I thought of Tolkien the first time I re-read The Hobbit after Lud-in-the-Mist: Bilbo and Nathaniel are both ordinary, middle-class, ostensibly conventional people who are weirder than they (allow themselves to) think.