Just haven't really felt motivated to write much recently...in part I know it is to do with my very very annoying, very very bad back, which is putting me in a black mood in general right now. So far, physio is making it feel worse, not better. Sigh.
One thing I have been enjoying though is Season 3 of Deadwood, kindly loaned to me by my pal A. What a masterwork that is. The language is near Shakespearean in its intricacy, and there is a fantastic tendency towards soliloquy that would be awkward if it wasn't done so brilliantly.
A great moment from the final episode, spoken by the solitary figure of toady E.B. Farnum, who has just been spat upon by the terrifying figure of Hearst:
Why I have not wiped his expectoration from my cheek is understandable. I am threatened with death if I do. That I stand immobile these hours later speaks of a flaw in my will. Surely this is not the culminating indignity that remains, for example, receiving his regurgitations. Swallowing his feces. Would I stand stoic still?
Over & out for now. Hope to be more inspired next time.
1 comment:
feel better my friend. sounds like your back is much worse than my pain in the ass ;) thinking of you.. xo
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