There’s a “Big Yellow Taxi” situation currently unfolding in my family, except it has nothing to do with environmentalism and everything to do with drama. Normally we’re a pretty staid bunch, so some of my relatives are really struggling with this — their bodies are rejecting what’s happening. It’s a tricky thing to write about […]
Being an overly cautious sort, I’ve been reluctant to jump the gun in sharing some exciting news. Explaining just how meaningful this is will require a more introspective post in the future, because personal finance is a subject that — to the amusement of some and confusion of others — I’m quite passionate about. My
One of my earliest memories involves infidelity. It’s a fact I’m often reminded of when watching TV movies, a disproportionate number of which — especially those made in the ’80s and ’90s — feature straying spouses. The monotony of all that adultery eventually wears thin, or simply strikes you as absurd, which is one of
Your Cheatin’ Heart Read More »
Crankenstein requested another old movie tonight and I selected Jacques Tourneur’s Out of the Past, a quintessential noir she hadn’t seen before. There’s not much need to get into its plot, which exemplifies the genre. The title gives you the gist of it: Robert Mitchum’s Jeff Markham, a former gumshoe who got mixed up with
Baby, I Don’t Care Read More »
All four installments are now complete. Sorry for doing it piecemeal. This month has been off to an inauspicious start, but I should have some good news to share soon, possibly within the next few days. And if anyone liked the Whirlpool post, I might try something similar with whatever I watch this weekend —
The Stacks: February [Updated – Complete] Read More »
You know those goofy quizzes where you get a point for each infraction you’ve committed? Things like playing hooky or joyriding, recreational indulgence in various substances, or killing a man in Reno just to watch him die? My score is probably equivalent to, or lower than, that of your average nun. I’ve never been drunk,
This evening I introduced Crankenstein to Whirlpool, a 1950 film noir directed by Otto Preminger and starring Gene Tierney as a doctor’s wife who finds herself mixed up in kleptomania and hypnotism before catching a murder charge. Richard Conte, unfairly overlooked among leading men of that era (see: Thieves’ Highway and House of Strangers), plays
Night two of the return-to-melatonin experiment was slightly better than the first, for anyone keeping track at home. I wasn’t awake for hours at a time, staring into the darkness while imagining myself in a remake of Laura Branigan’s “Self Control” video, dancing unrhythmically while lip-syncing “I, I live among the creatures of the night.”*
The insults flew fast and furious yesterday morning, coming mostly from the universe and my own decrepit body, so it was hardly surprising when an elderly stranger joined in on the act. It wasn’t long past 8 am and though I pretended not to hear her question, there was a part of me that longed
“Why Are You Here Then?” Read More »
The first and only time I watched most of the Australian Open unfold in real time, rather than via replay, was in 2008, when my doctor prescribed something for a non-intestinal IBD-related issue. A few days later I developed serum sickness, a rare reaction in which your immune system goes berserk in response to animal proteins
Australian Open: Strutting and Sinning Edition Read More »