Wanted to fight this war without weapons
I appear to be constitutionally incapable of walking anywhere in the rain with an umbrella without starting to hum "Singin' in the Rain." At least I remembered to bring my camera when I left for the library, so I got some rather off-kilter photographs of the flowering cherry trees on my street and one of the weeping cherry I like:
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spatch confirmed the clear-cutting of the slope behind the high school is part of the GLX. I don't like any of the pictures I took of it this afternoon, but at least they look the right kind of bleak. It's that flat off-white sky as well as the torn branches still lying in wet earth. You can't see from this vantage point that the scar goes all along the back of the buildings and right down to the tracks:
I have some movies to see in the first week of June: the Brattle Theatre is hosting the first-ever Noir City: Boston. I am trying not to let my customary bristle about "femme fatales, drunken private eyes, and enough depraved criminals to sink the Queen Mary" keep me from appreciating the fact that it is a genuinely unusual selection of films; I've read about all of them, but seen only Force of Evil (1948), which except for its voiceover I loved.
Now that there's a pristine restoration of Edgar G. Ulmer's Detour (1945), I seem to feel complicatedly about it. I watched a hugely beat-up print two summers ago and it honestly fit the story.
I have no noir-like photos to take up the theme. Instead, please enjoy this little cat. Ordinarily he curls up quietly for hours and then as soon as I attempt to photograph him, he moves and I just get a soft black blur.
spatch confirmed the clear-cutting of the slope behind the high school is part of the GLX. I don't like any of the pictures I took of it this afternoon, but at least they look the right kind of bleak. It's that flat off-white sky as well as the torn branches still lying in wet earth. You can't see from this vantage point that the scar goes all along the back of the buildings and right down to the tracks:
I have some movies to see in the first week of June: the Brattle Theatre is hosting the first-ever Noir City: Boston. I am trying not to let my customary bristle about "femme fatales, drunken private eyes, and enough depraved criminals to sink the Queen Mary" keep me from appreciating the fact that it is a genuinely unusual selection of films; I've read about all of them, but seen only Force of Evil (1948), which except for its voiceover I loved.
Now that there's a pristine restoration of Edgar G. Ulmer's Detour (1945), I seem to feel complicatedly about it. I watched a hugely beat-up print two summers ago and it honestly fit the story.
I have no noir-like photos to take up the theme. Instead, please enjoy this little cat. Ordinarily he curls up quietly for hours and then as soon as I attempt to photograph him, he moves and I just get a soft black blur.
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He is exquisitely photogenic when he holds still instead of reaching up to bat the camera's lens.
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He looks like that most of the time. Less bluish, but that was the light. Blackbird-glossy. His eyes really are limegreen.
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P.
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He has a noble profile! We tell him often. Hestia also has a fine snout, although it is captured less often on camera.
The cherry tree is also lovely.
There are two yards' worth of them, side by side; I assume originally they belonged to the same family, or maybe there was some kind of passive-aggressive neighborly spring blossom war. (One yard is regular cherry, the other weeping.) The whole sidewalk is covered with pale pink petals right now.
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He wasn't found in a handbag.
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Thank you! I'm certainly going to try.
Autolycus looks splendid almost no matter what he's doing, which is very difficult when what he's doing is eating out of a pan in the sink.
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We tell him so!
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He is extremely sleek. His sister has a shorter, more matte-black coat, and so photographs even more like a piece of shadow that just happens to look goldly at you.
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To steal an excellent coinage: Vantacat!
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Thank you for adding to the long, already very long list of cat names in this household.
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http://scientia-rex.tumblr.com/post/171107784199/always-thirsty-pocket-thelastpilot-oh-100
(You see why the shadow comment made me think of it.)
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Extremely.
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He is aggresively amenable to petting if it helps.
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That is vastly more defensible than my brain's habit of breaking into "You've Got to Pick a Pocket or Two" when walking by a bank. (I must have seen Oliver! on TV once or twice at a very impressionable age, and goodness knows it's a catchy tune. But still. OH BRAIN NO.)
My brain is also fond of playing "Feeling Groovy" on the first warm day of spring, which is a little embarrassing but not so bad.
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That may not be defensible, but I think it's great.
My brain is also fond of playing "Feeling Groovy" on the first warm day of spring, which is a little embarrassing but not so bad.
I get that in certain parts of New York strictly because its other title is "The 59th Street Bridge Song."
Honest to God, two high-school-aged post-millennial young men just walked by on the other side of the street, wearing baseball caps and hoodies, and one of them was whistling "Beautiful Dreamer." This is a wonderful world we live in.
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