Clocks, watermelons

I went to the Taschen warehouse sale, where I didn’t find anything I wanted. Instead, I grumped about how they were really the post-literate publisher par excellence, but then in the back of the store I saw these big boxes with Walton Ford’s name on them. They had one copy at the front (Number 0000). Ford’s paintings, which I saw at the Brooklyn Museum, are amazing things, and this volume is a glorious piece of work (I mean in lieu of the massive paintings themselves). My birthday’s coming up if you want to buy it for me. The cheap version’s only $1800. Cough, hack, gash….

From Taschen, went to the Film Forum, where I finally saw I’m Not There. (Or here, like that damned elusive Scarlet Pimpernel). Liked it more than I thought I would. Confused in places, and too ornate, but all somehow appropriate. Cate Blanchette was having a very good time. That woman can Frodo my Baggins anytime. And Charlotte Gainsbourg: yeow! Hotter now than she was before she was legal. Yes, I know the French have different community standards.
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Last Year in Marienbad, which just opened at the Forum, was sold out, which I thought impressive. It was like I never lived and we were back to 1962, but then M said, except for the fashions, thank god.