Nothing particularly new or promising in the video shop, so I went for Once Upon A Time In America, which I last saw at the Scala. So, some years ago, then... It still seems flawed to me, certainly if you compare it to Once Upon A Time In The West, but Leone's failings are still preferable to many other directors' successes.
About the first post I ever made mentioned the French actress Romane Bohringer. One of the things I like about her is that I know very little about her outside of an outline biography. I know her, whatever that may be, exclusively through film and not celebrity event. America includes the first screen appearance of Jennifer Connelly. Of course, ahem, legal and moral implications aside, she's looking as wonderful in this film as she still does to this day. The less I know about Connelly the better really, I only found out just now that she's married to Paul Bettany, which shows considerable taste in both their regards, I think. It must be quite irksome to be married to the timeless Connelly and have to spend a lengthy period in the plat-du-jour company of Kirsten Dunst. Obviously I'm entirely ignorant of the Connelly-Bettany domestic set-up, she might have despicable personal habits, but I can't think of a reason from where I sit as to why once you were married to Jennifer Connelly you would want to marry any one else ever in your life, however briefly.
I make this point purely for the sake of authorial balance, given the amount of Liv Tyler linking of late. One's wallpaper, the other a gobelin. [Shurely that should read goblin?- Ed.] Oh, do shut up...
OUR MAN IN HAVANA
Am I the only person to notice the remarkable similarity between the lead singer of Circulus and this dapper gentleman to the fore? The clue was sort of there on the Circulus site, I admit. I gave the singer a copy of Moscow or Tennessee yesterday as thanks for the considerable pleasure the group have given me of late.
THE END OF THE AFFAIR
And not even that. It would take considerable invention to turn a single date and a reasonable number of emails into an affair. Yet, if your emotional landscape is that of Jutland, then even a drumlin may seem as a mountain. I shall avoid any argumentum ad feminem, it's improper. I shan't pretend that I haven't muttered similar over the past few days, but there is a time for not talking about things.
What I will say is that this event, however slight and it is this slightness I choose to highlight, is just one further declining return from the world of romance. At this rate, it will be the monastery, I fear. Of course, this recent event is nothing, but we all carry a lifetime of wounds and slights. Camel seeks straw.
For the record, here's five reasons to recommend me without hesitation to all available relatives and friends of any age:
1. I can think of thirty reasons not to recommend me far more quickly than this list of positives.
2. I believe in God. This means that I make decisions in life according to divine law and not personal advantage. The nature of this divine law is very mystical and tricky to decipher, but that's not my fault. Of course, I fail drastically in its application. That is my fault.
3. I'm considerably richer than you. Admittedly, this is mostly on paper at the moment, but marriage would guarantee a reasonably lucrative divorce settlement.
4. I have a large collection of stupid artefacts and anecdotes.
5. I'd be a pushover.
The first song I wrote earlier this spring after a long break from any lyrical writing is this one, Bittersweet, I include these lyrics since I inadvertently wiped the song and fear I might forget them sometime soon if I don't write them down:
I held her in the joy of summer
He kissed me on the first day of spring
Winter follows autumn
It's obvious to all
That the bitter moment makes us sweeter sing
Like a drunk walks around the sober
She's rich but gives nothing to the poor
I went down to the union exchange
But the teller told me
You've no more
There's nothing left in store
That's why I don't sing anymore.
The poets were writing in the attic
Just one to hear
One could heal the pain
They have a him and a her
The what-should-be and the were
I've got the white wall and the sound of rain
Nothing ever came
That's why I don't sing anymore
Down by the Sally Gardens
My love and I did meet
But the memory has gone
I held it for too long
Does the bitter moment make me sing more sweet
Help me sing me more sweet