Well, dear readers, a blank page is before me, as there is a blank page before me every night around this time. And I must fill this here blank page with letters and words and sentence and paragraphs in short order for she of the Evil Eye will be here all too soon and I am now, after four days of four hours of sleep, sleep-deprived, which makes me depraved. Hey, I’m depraved on a account of I’m deprived. What am I, West Side Story all of a sudden? And so, here I sit like so much fish, listening to Arthur Bliss’ marvelously marvelous A Colour Symphony, in my favorite performance of it by Sir Charles Groves, which I had on LP back in the day, which also has an amazing performance of the Things to Come music by Bliss. Bliss’ music is, of course, bliss. Earlier, I watched a digital screener via the Firestick, this one called The Whale, starring Brendan Fraser, who has gotten many kudos for his portrayal of a 500-plus pound teacher. The first fifteen minutes or so is interesting, certainly, getting to know this fellow, and Mr. Fraser is very good. Then, about ten minutes later, we actually get to the plot, which is unfortunate, as it’s just another standard issue angry teen girl lashing out at dear old dad, who left she and her mother when the girl was eight, left them for – wait for the shocker – a man. Then we get ninety minutes of soap opera and have to endure the one-note writing for the girl and the equally one note performance from Sadie Sink. It’s not really her fault – there’s simply nothing for her to do but play the one note and it’s so annoying and grating that you just want her to get off the screen. This was directed by Darren Aronofsky, a man who certainly knows his craft and doesn’t resort to “now” malarkey, but who has also never made a film, and I’ve seen the majority of his films, that I haven’t hated. Now, he didn’t write this and his work here is fine for what it is and what it is is another talking picture (based on a play, which played off-Broadway a decade ago with Shuler Hensley) – just yakking for two hours, all taking place (save for some brief flashbacks – I mean like twenty seconds brief) in one apartment. The fat suit and prosthetics are good and it’s probably helpful that Fraser put on quite a bit of weight, not for the film, just in life. Samantha Morton has one scene as the ex-wife, of course there’s a vomit scene and I just wish the character were in a different play. I have no doubt that Mr. Fraser will be up for an Oscar and the voters do like a nice comeback.
Yesterday was yet another day of a bit over four hours of sleep, answering e-mails, having a CD dealer stop by to pick up some CDs, picking up no screeners but some other stuff that I needed, then coming home. I had my grilled chicken pasta from Stanley’s for food – very good as always – I did a bit of writing for the new book, just jotting down a few things and adding a bit to what I’d written the other day – I’ll also write the introductory pages in the next few days, and that will give me a total of about twelve pages when I begin in earnest on January 1. I also finally began getting the kids their music. Still choosing songs, which is slow going – actually, I’ve chosen all the songs, so it’s just assigning them that’s time consuming, but I’ll be finished doing it by tomorrow. Then I watched the movie, then we had the ubiquitous computer freeze, rebooted and showered while everything reloaded, got everything back to normal and then started watching the one Blake Edwards movie I’ve never gotten more than five minutes into – What Did You Do in the War, Daddy, a period when Blake was kind of hit-and-miss, as he would be for the rest of his career. So, I started watching, instantly fell asleep and woke up forty-seven minutes later, so I still haven’t seen it. The rest you know because you are attentive dear readers.
Today, I’ll be up by eight-thirty and out the door by nine. Robert Yacko is joining me for a breakfast meal, an early celebration for his birthday, then I’ll go to the mail place and see if anything’s there, and then around eleven-thirty I can return home. I am expecting the Omaha Steaks delivery, but it’s a large window of nine to two. I’m kind of hoping it doesn’t arrive until I’m back, but I’ll make sure that she of the Evil Eye listens for the doorbell – the only problem will be if she’s in the garage doing the laundry. I may leave a note on the front door to leave the package, although I have no idea if I have to sign for it or not. Then I’ll assign more songs and get that music to whomever needs it, then at some point I can watch, listen, and relax.
Tomorrow is more of the same and I’ll probably get to see the first cut of episode four, although I suppose that could also happen today at some point. Then next week is no work except anything I might do for the new book.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, be up by eight-thirty and out the door by nine, I must have a breakfast, I must hopefully pick up packages, come back, assign songs and get singers music, receive my Omaha Steaks gift and maybe I’ll even make one of the hot dogs therein – there’ll be steaks, chicken breasts, and hot dogs. Then I’ll watch, listen, and relax. Today’s topic of discussion: What will you be doing for the holidays? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland, happy to have filled yet another blank page with letters and words and sentences and paragraphs all resulting in these here notes.