Well, dear readers, this week is flying by, like a gazelle twirling a baton and doing the splits. I feel we should all twirl a baton and do the splits and then report who can actually get up and who has a hernia. Won’t that be a fun experiment during a pandemic? In other news, I am sitting here like so much fish listening to another Kalman operetta, this one titled Die Csardas Furstin (The Gypsy Princess – shhh, don’t use the English title or some idiot will try to cancel it from history). Of all the Kalman I’ve heard, this one is the most operettaish. But I like his tunes and the orchestration on this one is lush and beautiful, plus the performance is great, as is the band. It’s on the EMI label, conducted by Willy Mattes. These operettas are gay and effervescent, bubbly and rich, like eating eight hot fudge sundaes in a row. As I listen, I have the impulse to get off my butt cheeks and waltz and drink champagne and have Baumkuchen, after a nice meal of schnitzel. I feel like singing high A’s. And yet, here I sit like so much fish doing none of that simply because someone would then have to call 911 and have an ambulance sent to the home environment. Listening also makes me want to write these here notes in German, since that’s the language of these operettas. I do understand a few words like “danke” and “bitte” and “guten abend.” I am also trying not to think about food, so I will not eat anything else besides the meal o’ the day, which I ate at 1:00.
Yesterday was kind of a sorta kinda day. Nothing terrible, nothing great, it was kinda okay, sorta fine, not necessarily in that order. I was up earlier than I wanted but couldn’t fall back asleep, so I was out of bed at nine-thirty after six hours of sleep. I answered e-mails, did some Kritzerland show stuff, then went to the mail place and picked up two small packages, after which I came home.
I did a few more things that needed doing, and then I made some faux chicken stroganoff after the debacle of last week’s attempt – thankfully, this batch was excellent. I had it over rice and I ate it all up.
After that, I continued reading more of the book I’ve started reading, by film editor Paul Hirsch, who edited little films like Star Wars, Carrie, Obsession, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, and lots more. He has a plain but straightforward writing style and I always enjoy reading about someone’s creative process. There are always a few annoying things and in this it’s his description of Brian de Palma’s brilliant idea of what cinema is – “pure cinema” he call it, all based on POV (point of view) storytelling, as if this was some incredible thing Brian came up with all by his lonesome. Only later does the name Hitchcock come up and, of course, everything de Palma is saying is straight from Hitchcock. Everyone walks on egg shells when talking de Palma and Hitchcock, but it’s been obvious forever. But the stories are interesting and fun, especially about some editing choices in Obsession once they realized there were no takers for the film. As with many books today, the type is too small and so one cannot read too much at once. It’s why I always make the type size on my books easy to read. After reading, I did a little more work, and then I sat on my couch like so much fish.
Last night, I finished watching the Basil Rathbone/Nigel Bruce Sherlock Holmes films. Pursuit to Algiers was silly but fun and I enjoyed it and I enjoyed an actress named Marjorie Riordan, who didn’t have much of a career. But the final two films were, I thought, just awful. Rathbone looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, Nigel Bruce’s act is just tired, and the writing is really bad. Terror by Night and Dressed to Kill are the titles. The former has perhaps one of the worst performances I’ve ever seen, from an actress attempting to do an English accent that is from hunger. A good seven minutes of the film are repeated shots of toy trains from another film – they’re not meant to BE toy trains but boy are they – and that footage is so horrible-looking because it’s probably ten generations down. Oh, Mr. Director, where were you? The only fun thing in Dressed to Kill is Patricia Morison as a femme fatale. A disappointing end to what was a fun bunch of programmers that had gotten so cheap they should have stopped while they were ahead. The quality of the films in the Blu-ray set varies wildly, from almost excellent to really mediocre.
After that, I listened to music and relaxed, not necessarily in that order, and even though I thought about food, I did not eat food.
Today, I’ll be up when I’m up, then it’s more Kritzerland show stuff as we get ready to do our Facebook Live tests starting on Thursday, as well as do all our final preparations for Sunday’s show. I’ll eat – I’ll saute the rest of the chicken with onions and some veggies I bought and I’ll serve that over rice. I’ll hopefully pick up some packages, then I’ll do whatever needs doing, before I watch, listen, and relax.
The rest of the week is more of the same – final prep, our Facebook Live tests where I shall sing three songs presuming I have a voice, and then we do Kritzerland 107 on Sunday at 5:00 PDT and 8:00 EDT. We’re all very excited to do it.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, be up when I’m up, do Kritzerland show stuff, eat, hopefully pick up packages, do whatever else needs doing and then watch, listen, and relax. Today’s topic of discussion: What are your favorite chicken dishes to eat, and what chicken dishes do you cook for yourself? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland, happy that I did not attempt to twirl a baton and do the splits.