Tuesday, September 23, 2008


I saw Barbara Stanwyck say about her throat, “It’s as red as the Daily Worker and just as sore.” In Ball of Fire, directed by Howard Hawks, screenplay by the great team of Billy Wilder & Charles Brackett. More Hawks at BAM for the rest of the week.

I mated some slices of black prince tomato and Flying Pigs bacon with a slather of mayonnaise between two slices of sourdough.

I saw Virtual JKF. Didn’t suck, but it was still iffy. More considered opinion here.

I wilted some tat soi, a Chinese green from my CSA farm.

I read this article about Obama’s chances in November. Scary.

I heard a busker with a pan pipe and guitar playing a haunting version of Simon & Garfunkle’s “Sounds of Silence” on the R train. He was playing as we went through Cortland St, the ghost station that hasn’t been open since the morning of 9/11/01. "The words of the prophet are written on the subway walls."

I read Courtney Humphries’ Superdove: How the Pigeon Took Manhattan … and the World. Stupid title, miserably designed, but quite good content.

I heard about the infant formula poisoning in China. They waited 9 months, after the Genocide Games, to recall the stuff. Authoritarian capitalism, red in tooth and claw, just like we used to have before the Progressive Era and the New Deal, and the state so many Republicans yearn to return to.

I saw three women waiting to see RachelRayTM in a studio on E44th St. One said, with great excitement: “You went to see Regis!?”

I read this fine debunking of foreign policy shibboleths, most repeated by both McPalin and Obama.


amarilla said...

The other day a man was playing banjo on the F train, just playing it, not busking. He was playing and singing Silent Night, very quietly, I think it was his own version. I was struck by the calming effect it had over and over again.

He said he'd had run ins with people who haven't exactly appreciated his train plucking, so he learned to temper his tone. It was very unusual to see someone playing in public just for the sake of playing. The crazy smile on his face went a long way in clearing the seats around him so he could be at ease. I was glad for his gentle playing though, especially now when many nerves are newly frayed.

By the way I didn't know what shibboleth meant, so I took the initiative and looked it up. An ear of corn, if you go all the way back through all the knots and tangles in the rope. Very satisfying, like this list you've served us. You didn't leave anything out, did you?

M.Thew said...

Surely every list leaves things out. I left out all the hours I sitting in front of the 'puter working for the Man. Plus the naughty bits.