Well, dear readers, I’m in one of those “I can’t write the first line” places, so I took the easy way out and just went there, didn’t I? I just went there and that’s all there is to it. I just went there and the devil take the hindmost or, conversely, the hindmost take the devil. You see, I’m already four or five sentences in now, and now I am on a Kaiser roll. Now I’m just breezin’ along with the breeze, like a gazelle in a caftan and bejeweled slippers. Speaking of bejeweled slippers, I don’t own any. I think I shall have to purchase some bejeweled slippers because anyone who’s anyone has a pair. Speaking of a pair and also a pear, I had a very nice day yesterday. I awoke early, and then a little grouping convened at the Ray Courts show. We convened, I tell you, and there was nothing that anyone could do about it. Convening were my very own self, our very own Mr. Nick Redman, our very own Miss Adriana Patti, and our former very own Hisaka. We did a few tours of the room – attendance was quite low when we first got there, and then it got a little better, but not much. We saw the usual suspects, and we had a nice chat with Miss Marni Nixon. I did another little trade – I hadn’t intended to, but I had something with me that someone wanted badly, and he had something I’d been eyeing and we had a meeting of the minds and now he’s got what he wants and I’ve got what I want. We all ate some lunch at the Daily Grill and then I came home and sat on my couch like so much fish.
Last night, I watched a motion picture on DVD entitled Brighton Rock. I’d started it a week ago, but only got three minutes in – I was worried I wouldn’t like it, since the beginning didn’t grab me, buy my worry was for naught, because Brighton Rock is quite an excellent motion picture entertainment. It’s based on the novel by Mr. Grahame Greene, with a screenplay by Mr. Greene and Terrence Rattigan. A very young Mr. Richard Attenborough plays Pinky, a very, very bad boy, a gangsta, and a fairly sadistic one at that. In fact, he basically has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. And no, we get no “backstory” on him, he doesn’t really have an arc, and yet the film still works – funny that. Hermoine Baddeley is wonderful, but for me the film’s heart and soul belong to Miss Carol Marsh, an actress I’m completely unfamiliar with. Her performance is sweet and real and heartbreaking. The direction is taut and to the point, and it’s just a swell motion picture entertainment. The region 2 transfer is really excellent.
Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below, because I have things to do, places to go, and people to see, not necessarily in that order.
I’m in one of those “I can’t write the first line of the new section” so I took the easy way out and just went there. I just went there, like a gazelle fighting vainly the old ennui. Or is the gazelle fighting vainly the Jean Anouilh? The gazelle is fighting vainly something but I’ll be consarned if I can figure it out. Damn them, damn them all to hell.
Today I shall probably have to get tough with some snippy New York types, but get tough I shall. I’m sure this will involve about six telephonic conversations, or perhaps it will all get done via e-mail. I also have several errands to do in preparation for this week’s New York sojourn. And I may have food plans, but won’t know until midday.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do. I must, for example, jog, write, get tough, drive about in my motor car, and eat something interesting. Today’s topic of discussion: I know we’ve done this topic before, but we’ve got new folks, and I find it endlessly fascinating anyway – if you once again own one toy from your childhood, what would it be and why would you choose that particular toy? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we – just go there.