If she is still there
smoking on the bench
like a movie star
when you are
on your way out
you will speak to her.
“Here the living heavens looked as if they would take you in. Another sort of rehearsal, thought Corde. The sky was tense with stars, but not so tense as he was, in his breast. Everything overhead was in equilibrium, kept in place by mutual tensions. What was it that his tensions kept in place?
THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILER MATERIAL ABOUT THE MOTION PICTURE SUNSET BOULEVARD. IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN SUNSET BOULEVARD, BUT PLAN TO DO SO, THIS IS NOT THE PIECE FOR YOU. THE MOVIE IS SIXTY YEARS OLD, FOR GOD’S SAKE. IT’S A CLASSIC. WHY HAVEN’T YOU SEEN IT? IT’S YOUR FAULT I HAVE TO WRITE THIS DUMB SPOILER ALERT. YOU ARE OBVIOUSLY THE TYPE OF PERSON WHO SPENDS ALL OF HIS OR HER TIME PAINTING TINY CERAMIC UNICORNS.
Harmony Korine’s latest film, Trash Humpers, is probably not coming to a theater near you – unless Chris Crofton makes it happen.
Time is tight. It’s Thanksgiving Day (these are my last precious moments of peace and quiet for god knows how long) and I just got back from a road trip that featured lots of fun and music and very little sleep. More on the trip later. First things first. Let’s go!
It’s been thrilling to see the number of contributors to BBL&L shoot up over the last few weeks. I assume this means we’re getting a bunch of new readers, too. I’ve been asking all my friends to mosey on over and check it out.
Here’s my usual pitch: “It’s an eclectic bunch of writers and artists from all over the country. You should mosey on over and check it out.”
Some mornings, I know right away. The drift is already sideways by the time my bare heel finds the belt buckle on the floor beside the bed.
When your first word of the day is an expletive, and you must then check for bleeding, it is a sign.
All my silly human plans are about to be derailed. Embrace the suckage, for it is nigh.
I did half a post or something on The Rolling Stones a couple of weeks ago. A friend of mine had griped he should not have to teach college freshmen who’d never heard of the Stones.
This complaint was communicated to me via a one-line text, a little ping of middle-aged misery between two pals, both veterans of too many bar bands.
The joke was on us, of course.
When Derek asked me to post for BBL&L, we had a brief exchange about content. As a former print journalist, I was used to having my pieces posted in the online versions of the papers I worked for, but blogging was never a part of my job.
I still don’t read many blogs except this one. It’s a time-management issue. There are only so many hours in the day for reading, and on a beautiful fall day I’d rather be on the porch with, say, Saul Bellow.
I just picked up a copy of The Dean’s December for a quarter at the library book store. It’s a Pocket paperback, published in 1983.
I like this pen. It’s pretty nice, for a giveaway pen. The tube is green and transparent. It has a rubber writing grip near the retractable point.
There are many reasons I’m writing with a pen this week. Family emergency. I’ve been killing a lot of time in places where I don’t usually write.
Someone has given me a subscription to Esquire magazine.
Thanks, whoever you are!
Minka Kelly is the Sexiest Woman Alive, according to the cover of the November issue. Before my copy arrived in the mailbox, I did not know this. I didn’t even know who Minka Kelly was until Esquire connected the dots for me.
When I open the door to the front porch in the morning, I’m usually greeted by all three varmints: the dog (see every other post by yours truly) and his two best buds, Scrappy Pappy and Da Rat Jr. The mutt nut and his feline…
It’s deer season on Coburn Mountain. If it’s not officially deer season, then it’s close. I know this because for the last two hours my neighbors have been reenacting the Battle of the Somme in their backyards, fine-tuning the sights on their high-powered rifles. After…