Well, dear readers, the day is young, which is more than I can say. Yes, you heard it here, dear readers, the day is young and I have work to do, errands to run, people to talk to and meals to eat, not necessarily in that order. I was once young like the day, but now I’m older, like the late afternoon. In a few years I’ll be old like the night. How metaphorical we’re being on this Tuesday of Tuesdays. Yes, Virginia, the metaphors are flying high, wide, and handsome here at haineshisway.com and I, for one, say hoo and ray, for we cannot have enough metaphors. Do metaphors always come in phors or do they sometime come in phives? In any case, the day is young and there is much to do, so without further delay we must get on with these here metaphorical or metaphivical notes. Isn’t that exciting? Isn’t that just too too?
Perhaps today will be the day when I tell the story of The Randy Vicar and the Hockey Puck. Perhaps not. Last night I watched a motion picture on DVD entitled Eyes Without a Face. If this sounds like déjà vu, it is, as I just watched it a few months ago and reported on it right here in these here notes. However, what I watched then was a home-grown DVD burned off my laserdisc, and what I watched last night was the brand spanking new DVD from Criterion. All I can tell you is the DVD is a revelation – the laserdisc and videos of this film have all looked wretched – scratchy, soft, dupey-looking and muddy. The DVD is amazing – gorgeously sharp, good contrast, easy-to-read subtitles (and a much better translation) and, best-of-all, the uncut version of the film (the laserdisc is a minute or two shorter). I won’t go into the film again – suffice it to say it’s one of my favorite horror movies. Poetic, beautiful, horrifying and so much more. Edith Scob is perfection, as is the rest of the cast. The infamous operation scene is a good deal longer in this cut, and it’s even more gruesome (especially considering the film was made in 1960), but I almost prefer the slightly edited version which, because it fades out sooner, leaves a bit more to the imagination. A wonderful film, and an even better DVD.
Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because, after all, the day is young and I am but an aging flower whose petals are still firm with abs and buns of steel. My goodness, it is so metaphorical around here.
If you missed any of yesterday’s posts, it would behoove you to check them out, and our haineshisway.com story, Chastity and the City of Chandra (or whatever it’s called).
Have I mentioned that the day is young and I’m not? Last night I took my first Jacuzzi in a week’s time and it was perfectly loverly. First of all, it was quite nippy out, so the combo of the hot Jacuzzi and the nippy night air was bracing. Add to that the good-smelling air and it was just a pleasant thing to do. I was quite relaxed afterwards, and pranced about like a water buffalo after a massage. You know, just because the day is young now doesn’t mean the day will be young at five o’clock this afternoon. That is very deep, of course, metaphorically speaking. You see, at five o’clock the day will be waning, yet I will not be waning, hence I will be younger than the day. Life is funny that way. I wonder if when the day is waning if it will be raining? I love waning raining days. I also love raining waning days. Of course, I have no clew as to what the hell I’m going on about, but what else is new?
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must write, I must tool around in my automobile, I must put food into my gaping hungry maw, I must listen to some new Astrud Gilberto and Luiz Bonfa CDs I picked up, and I must dance to the rhythm of the Bossa Nova like a water buffalo after a massage. Today’s topic of discussion: It’s metaphor day here at haineshisway.com – what are your all-time favorite metaphors for any and everything. If that topic isn’t to your liking, then tell us what your favorite surfing songs are – Beach Boys and otherwise. Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, as the young day turns into the waning day – which, of course, is simply a long day’s journey into night. What am I, Eugene O’Neill all of a sudden?