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March 8, 2012:

ONE FRIED EGG

Bruce Kimmel Photograph bk's notes

Well, dear readers, what a weird and strange day yesterday was. It was also strange and weird. I don’t really know why or how, it just seemed strange and weird. I had a lot of fun, did things, but I was just a little unmotivated to actually sit down and attend to my two sets of liner notes, which I really must do this day, although finding the time will be difficult.

I had a pretty good night’s sleep, after which I got up. There was nothing intrinsically weird or strange about that, and yet there was. I then went and had an early breakfast with a writer friend of mine and that was hugely fun because she’s very bright, with a great personality. We talked about lots o’ stuff and we were there for about ninety minutes. After that, I came home, printed out more book orders than I’ve ever had, had several involved telephonic conversations regarding upcoming Kritzerland projects (trying to keep all these balls in the air is daunting, to say the least), and then went and picked up one package. I also got a Subway Club, which I gobbled down when I returned home. Instead of sitting down and writing, I sat on my couch like so much fish instead.

Yesterday, I watched a motion picture on a homegrown DVD entitled Who Is Harry Kellerman and Why Is He Saying Those Terrible Things About Me. I suppose the title is the first clue about how pretentious and awful such a film is going to be, but I’d never managed to see it because it had come and gone so quickly. The film was directed by Ulu Grosbard, a theater director with no affinity for cinema whatsoever. It stars Dustin Hoffman as a songwriter who sings and writes some absolutely horrible songs, actually written by Shel Silverstein. The screenplay is by Herb Gardner, author of A Thousand Clowns, but nowhere near as good as that – in fact, the writing is horrendous and the film is a complete and utter disaster in every way. Hoffman had made two great movies back to back – The Graduate and Midnight Cowboy, and he followed those two wonderful films with John and Mary and Harry Kellerman, two truly bad films. The only redeeming feature of Harry Kellerman occurs in the film’s last twenty minutes, when Barbara Harris shows up. She’s wonderful. Otherwise, the film is needlessly arty and obtuse, trying to be very hip and failing miserably, and, at almost two hours, clearly forty-five minutes too long (well, any of it is too long). A mind-bogglingly awful movie.

After that, I still couldn’t get motivated and I suppose that’s where the weird and strange came in. I spent the next six hours doing absolutely nothing. I don’t know how the time passed, other than printing out orders, surfing the Internet and doing a little reading in preparation for the liner notes, but what a waste of an evening – but perhaps that’s what I needed. I also booked a hair appointment with Teddy, although I will not be receiving hair, I will be shorn of some, like Samson.

Right now, I’m really hungry, but I don’t know any night owls anymore, so I shall just be hungry, since I have not one thing to eat here in the home environment. I suppose I could make one fried egg and that would perfectly compliment the weird and strange day – maybe I just will. One Fried Egg – that’s the title of my next novel.

Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because I am tired and if I’m to make one fried egg now would be the time to do it, I suppose.

Today, I will hopefully arise after a good night’s beauty sleep. I then have a hair appointment with Teddy, after which I may grab a little light snack to tide me over until dinner, which will be very late. Then I’ll come back to the Valley, hopefully pick up some packages, and then I shall buckle down, Winsocki and write these damn liner notes. The packaging is already done on these two releases – I just need to finish the damn liner notes. Damn them, damn them all to hell. After all that, we have a Melody rehearsal in Burbank, after which, we shall have some dinner.

Tomorrow, I’m takin’ it easy, packing, and resting. I shall then be on my way to the city that never sleeps, New York, New York, early Saturday morning. I may see a show Saturday night or I may not, but if I do or don’t I definitely hope to see some folks I know over at Joe Allen. Sunday I think some dear readers and I are having a little get-together of some sort, probably at Joe Allen, or maybe somewhere else, like the Brooklyn Diner or some other jernt. Then I have a rehearsal with the East Coast singer that will last a couple of hours, maybe three. We have a lot of work to do. We’ll also have a rehearsal on Monday, early, and then her show is that night. I leave very early the next morning to be on my way home to LA.

Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, get a new do, grab a light snack, hopefully pick up some packages, write some liner notes, and have a rehearsal, after which we dine. Today’s topic of discussion: What are your favorite Dustin Hoffman movies and your least favorite Dustin Hoffman movies? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland, after eating one fried egg.

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