By Ben Doller
The curtain is kind
of cool. Hitchcock
liked it. Why
not. Great place
for getting shot
or famous or for
bleeding back
behind the iron
one. The score
diegetic as they
come. Bernard
Herrmann forever
human.
The gowns hanged
in greenroom ligature.
Edith Head never
dead. Great place
for a nail-bomb.
A cold one.
Watch them watch
their watches run
out of wick.
Obviously this opera
sort of sucks
you in or off
your seat. You
see phony fire
and roar it too.
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It was a ridiculous 72 degrees on this fine November Monday. As a result, it was very difficult to concentrate on anything complicated. I did various work and chores in the house and took a long walk after lunch, since I had to get ready in the late afternoon for the cross country dinner and awards ceremony. There were several deer shamelessly nibbling ornamental plants in people's backyards and lots of happy squirrels racing back and forth across the paths, apparently confused by the weather.
The cross country dinner was a potluck with everything from Ledo's Pizza and Popeye's Chicken to very good vegetarian entrees like homemade samosas and the chili we brought. But the ceremony was endless -- every senior got to give a speech, some of which went on for nearly 15 minutes, and there were nearly 40 seniors. I ended up leaving after an hour and a half and walking home on one of the most beautiful nights of the year, temperatures still in the high 60s and leaves blowing everywhere.
Adam wasn't back till after 9:30 p.m., so I am hoping his homework gets done; in more entertaining news, one of his friends hacked his Facebook page and implied that I was going to be a grandmother (Daniel pointed out that when girls hack each other's pages, it's generally to say something like "Hi!" while when boys hack each other's pages, it's generally to say something scandalous). I am behind on things, so here are some more photos from Washingtonian Lake yesterday:
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