Although I like Chaplin, and number his autobiography (highly highly recommended) among my favorite life-read books, I have always been firmly in the Buster Keaton camp when it comes to "clowns of the silent cinema" (ugh). Just fyi, a couple of his best, or rather, my favorites, The General and The Seven Chances are available on You Tube. (I wonder if they, those inventors of You Tube, now regret that unfortunate name.)
It's another Saturday. The birds are chirping out there on the melting tundra and I can't say as I have noticed them in the last week. I think we are in for more snow, but not too much. The kitties are apparently sleeping in, as no one is importuning me as I re-orient myself to standard life.
Was the Hart Crane poem too hackneyed and sentimental? I had not read any and found him to be much more "modern" than I had anticipated. I must have been confusing him with that other Crane, Stephen. I never liked The Red-Badge of Courage and could never really see all that much merit in it.
So you see, I am rambling here, not having had benefit of coffee, merely some hot water with honey. That should be remedied.
Later. A snowy/rainy mix out there tonight. Tomorrow morning, I will go to Brooklyn for the day. I spent more of the day with my demons and issues, but to good, not negative, effect. Coming up with some new strands of understanding. Probably a good time for some peppermint or camomile tea and soft music before bed.
I like the idea of dealing with demons and issues not in a negative way. To enter the battle but not necessarily emerge bloodied or bruised.
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