Tuesday, December 05, 2006

A Week of Snot

Oh yes, wrapping up a film can be SO much fun. The crumpled up receipts, the invariably late art department, the paperwork you thought you had in your box but didn't, and the inevitable sickness that accompanies the end of a job. My head feels like a Gatorador full of snot with my nose acting as a faucet.

So, I've spent most of the last week trying to get out of bed to go into the office and put all the paperwork bits into their proper places.

So now I'm starting to think about Xmas and all the crap that goes along with it (cards, presents, buying stuff you can't afford, watching happy couples walking around hand in hand, which makes you want to chop them off, etc.)

On the other hand, I love the city this time of year. The light is beautiful. Here's a couple of recent pics to keep you happy:

The first one is heavily Photoshopped. The second features one of my best friends on the planet, my kittie (it's a "he" in case you're wondering). Expect more of these cat shots.

READING: It's Good For You ...

I'm reading a novel at the moment called "Vellum." I really, really want to love it. But sadly, I can't quite recommend it. It's TOO fragmented, TOO full of itself, to be good. The author is talented but needed to stop thinking he's Pynchon crossed with William Gibson and James Joyce, and just try to write a fucking straightforward sentence.

The Amazon.com Link to Vellum

... And Tastes Great Too!

On the other hand, I'm also reading Wallace Stevens. I've been reading other folks who quote him a lot, so I figured it was worth getting the "Collected Poems" book.

Well, it ain't easy reading. On the one hand, I can finish a single poem on a subway ride. But that doesn't mean I can understand it. However, even without understanding it completely, I feel moved by it. Which is, sadly, more than I can say for Vellum.

The Amazon Link to Wallace Stevens collected poems.

Another thing that inspires me about Stevens is that he was 36 when he started attaining critical success. He was no spring chicken, in other words. So there's hope for all of us (including me) who haven't reached fame and fortune by the age of 25.


Blogger Rob Toth said...

James Cain was in his forties. Grandma Moses, meanwhile, was nearly 715.

10:47 PM  

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