Well, dear readers, this week is flying by, like a gazelle doing a Russian gavotte and an Armenian polka, whilst whistling the music of Victor Schertzinger and giving an oral history on Wally Cox. Wow, that was surreal, wasn’t it? That was so surreal it was surreally surreal. I don’t know where that came from exactly, except from the innermost crevices of my fractured mind, and let me assure you that due to the bank fraud and other stuff that’s going on, my mind is absolutely fractured. And yet, I try to wake up with a smile. Of course since my bedroom closet doors are mirrors, I see myself when I get up in the morning and that wipes the smile right off my face. But one must persevere and remain positive at all times, as difficult as that is. And when I need to do that I immediately do as the gazelle is doing – I do a Russian gavotte and an Armenian polka whilst whistling the music of Victor Schertzinger and giving an oral history on Wally Cox. I no longer have a clew as to what the HELL I’m talking about. And get your minds out of the gutter about the title of today’s notes – the title will become clear as you read on, MacDuff.
Whew, a new paragraph. Yesterday I got nine hours of sleep. Once up, I did the usual things – answered e-mails, checked in with the bank to no news other than money should be coming back in as soon as the claims department completes all their investigations, had a telephonic conversation, finalized some meeting times, and then went and had some matzo brei and a bagel. Then I picked up some mail, then came home. The helper kept saying she was coming by, but she was running a fever and in the end didn’t. I did some work on the computer and organized a few things, I did a two-and-a-half mile jog, then went to Gelson’s and got a couple of snacks for the evening – a tiny bit of mac-and-cheese and some Super Chinese slaw. Then I came home and sat on my couch like so much fish.
Last night, I watched a motion picture entitled Tony Rome on the new Twilight Time double bill Blu and Ray of Tony Rome and Lady in Cement. Let me just say, that if one is politically correct or a sensitive feminist, these are not the films for you. Tony Rome is kind of fun to watch in a 60s kind of way. It’s relaxed, the mystery is perfunctory and not very mysterious, and no, idiot who wrote the Wikipedia entry, it’s not what you’d call “neo-noir.” I don’t believe I ever heard that expression prior to the 1980s. Sinatra is Sinatra and fun, Jill St. John I’ve never understood, it’s always a pleasure to see Gena Rowlands in anything, although she’s pretty underused here, Sue Lyon can’t really do anything with her completely one-note character, which has no character, Richard Conte is always great, Rocky Graziano has a cameo, the ubiquitous Lloyd Bochner has one scene as a drug dealer, but otherwise this film has some of the worst performances I’ve ever seen. The “lesbian stripper” scene has to be seen to be believed, but that’s nothing compared to the “my pussy was smiling” scene with a lady trying to hire Tony Rome because she thinks her pussy is frowning because someone is trying to poison her pussy, a scene that truly defies description and will have your mouth on the floor. All in all, if you want some wacky and weird fun it’s fun in a wacky and weird way. Lady in Cement is a weak cousin, but also has its moments. Both are directed competently by Gordon Douglas, and feature fun scores – Billy May for Tony Rome and Hugo Montenegro for Lady in Cement. I don’t think these are new transfers but they are both excellent, and show off Miami very well, while also showing off Jill St. John and Raquel Welch very well. And two movies for the price of one is always a nice thing.
During the movies I ate my mac-and-cheese and slaw. After the movie, I took a shower, listened to music, did some more organizing, had a telephonic conversation, and that was that.
Today, I shall do more organizing, I shall jog, I shall do some writing, I shall perhaps continue casting The Brain from Planet X’s staged concert reading, and I’ll figure out what the October Kritzerland show is going to be. Then at four we have our little ALS show post mortem here, after which I’ll go eat something.
Tomorrow, I have a work session for the Kritzerland show, followed by a post mortem dinner with the ALS folks – that should be interesting in many ways. Friday I attend the opening night of a play at the Group Rep called Calendar Girls – our very own Doug Haverty is in it. Not sure what the weekend holds – I’m hoping that on one of the weekend evenings I can have a nice meal. And then we’re into the busy Kritzerland rehearsal week.
Also, because of this stupid bank crap I have pretty much depleted Ye Olde Payal account, so if anyone is interested in buying a first edition of Gypsy signed by Sondheim to me, or perhaps the iconic original art for the Unsung Irving Berlin album, by the legendary Tony Walton, well just private message me and I’ll tell you the deal. I’m at the point where I just am overrun with stuff and I have to get rid of some of it. I’ve had these things for a very long time and have enjoyed them, and I don’t mind passing them on to people who might enjoy having them.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, organize, continue casting, figure out the October Kritzerland show, jog, have a post mortem meeting, and then eat. Today’s topic of discussion: It’s Ask BK Day, the day in which you get to ask me or any dear reader any old question you like and we get to give any old answer we like, so let’s have loads of lovely questions and loads of lovely answers and loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland, where I am sure I will have nightmares about the “my pussy is smiling” scene.