A couple more movies for you : "I Became a Criminal"(1947), also known as "They Made Me a Fugitive" in America. Watching this film, I could've sworn I saw a remake starring James Cagney, but I can't find it on IMDB so I must be wrong. It must be this same film that I know I've seen before, and while it has it's moments, and a strong finale, and the photography is exceptional, it goes on way too long. You know how sometimes we suggest a cut of ten to twenty minutes on certain films, twenty being the extreme and rarely invoked? Well, meet the new champ. At an hour and forty minutes, "I Became" feels like an Age in geological time and needs a full half hour cut out. The story is good and so are the performances, but the direction has no snap, no tension. It's as if the editor took the day off, or several days, or maybe there wasn't an editor at all. For me, it just dragged and dragged and dragged, but interestingly, the fans love it. Everyone at IMDB gives it a stellar review, so don't listen to me, give it a watch. But brew a pot of coffee just in case. ////
The other flick I have is called "Fear No More"(1961), a low budget psychological mystery starring Mala Powers as a former mental patient now working as a personal assistant to a millionaire. He wants to get rid of his wife and is planning to frame Powers, knowing that her background will make her the prime suspect in the murder. This movie has a "let's put on a show"! dramatic feel, as if a talented cast of Playhouse 90 veterans decided to pool their money to make a Hitchcock film. The script is full of implausibilities, but if you go with it you'll have fun, and once again the IMDB fans absolutely love it. For that reason, let's give it Two Big Thumbs Up. ////
Yesterday I took several bagfuls of Pearl's Christmas decorations to Goodwill. There were wreaths and pine cone baskets and stockings and all kinds of things, most of them wired up with lights. Many were handmade (Pearl did a lot of crafting in years past) and all were in good condition and I'm so glad Goodwill accepted them because now, with Christmas approaching, maybe they'll be placed in the store and purchased, and wind up decorating mantelpieces and front doors of other people's homes, thereby carrying on a part of Pearl's spirit.
Mornings continue to be extremely difficult for me. I cope by reading and going slow. I'm in a Kafka-esque situation here in my building. If you've been reading over the years, you may recall that I've complained a few times about my noisy neighbors. Fellow apartment dwellers may know what it's like to be located next to The Apartment From Hell, and that's where mine is situated. I've lived in The Tiny Apartment for close to sixteen years and have had one nightmare neighbor after another. The last group (I say group because two guys lived there but always had their friends over) loved disco music. Disco from India to be precise, and while I'm not prejudiced against any race or culture, I'll just say that Indian Disco is not my favorite music and leave it at that. Especially when it's played through subwoofers, which in my opinion should be outlawed in apartment buildings. Even when the "music" is turned down, you still hear a thud....thudthud...thud....as if someone is throwing furniture around.
Well at any rate, while these guys had their quieter periods, they were more often the quintessential Obnoxious Neighbors With No Regard For Others. About a year ago, marveling at their longevity in this building (they moved in in 2015, most tenants are gone within two years), I said to myself, "They Will be Here Until The End of Time".
Imagine my surprise then, when I came home from my last (and final as it turned out) work cycle at Pearl's, to see the Noisy Neighbors moving boxes, not into but out of their unit. "Could it be true"?, I wondered, hoping against hope. "No.....it can't be", came the reply from the Cynical Me, inured to living next to these fellas. "Remember Ad", I said to myself, "It's written in Freaking Stone, like an Eleventh Commandment : 'They Will Be Here Til The End of Time' ".
But Lo and Behold! They did move out. Thank You, Jesus! The torment was over. That was Friday night, September 10, 2021.
Then I went "Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire" as Franz Kafka moved in, 2 1/2 days later on the morning of September 13. He moved into my building in the form of construction workers, who began pounding and hammering and sawing and banging and drilling and pounding some more, beginning at 8:30am sharp every morning. Okay, once again if you're an apartment dweller, you know the process of refurbishing a unit after a long time tenant moves out. The painters come in, maybe the drywall guys before them, and perhaps the carpet crew too, if the unit is badly worn down. This has happened next door a couple of times in the sixteen years I've been here. And it usually takes two or three days to complete the job, four at the most.
But folks, this time they must be constructing the god almighty Empire State Building in there, or a channel-length subway tunnel, or both, because the pounding and the sawing and the drilling and the hammering and the banging have been going on for fifteen full days now, and there's No Sign That It's Gonna End Any Time Soon.
I kid you not. I have a theory, that if ever the world is destroyed by nuclear war (God Forbid), the only things to survive will be cockroaches, Keith Richards, and construction workers. The thing is, though, you'll never see them. You'll only hear them nearby, pounding and banging like something out of a Kafka novel, an existential absurdity in a time of monumental despair.
I did listen to the Rams game yesterday, which made me feel better. I say "listened" because my apartment doesn't get regular TV. You've gotta have cable, and I never bought it because I've been mostly living at Pearl's for the past 12 years. So the only thing I use my TV for is movies on dvd. But I don't mind listening to the game on the radio. It's how I followed sports as a kid, and there's something about listening to a game on the radio that engages your imagination and heightens your anticipation. Sports are always a good diversion in tough times, especially when your team is winning, and the Rams look like Super Bowl contenders this year. They destroyed Brady and the champion Bucs with ease.
I've been going up to Aliso Canyon, the only hike I've been doing of late, but I've been going there every day. It's just 2.5 miles from my apartment, in a ravine that looks like an old hollow from the 19th century (or the 9th, or 9 million BC), and whenever I go there, no matter how low I'm feeling it's Instant Peace of Mind. That's where I saw the bobcat. Today I saw a coyote, but they rarely hold still for a picture.
After my hike, I've been getting home about 6:30. Then I watch an episode of "The Avengers". When I was a boy I was transfixed by Mrs. Peel, but never understood the banter between her and Mr. Steed, nor the complex plots, so the show was somewhat beyond my reach. Now, though, I'm well versed in British witticisms as well as espionage, having finished the whole of Patrick McGoohan's "Secret Agent" series, and I'm enjoying "The Avengers" very much as a sort of counterpart to that show. Whereas "Secret Agent" was deadly serious, "Avengers" is irreverent. Both are now among my favorite TV shows of all time.
At nightfall I go on my CSUN walk, which helps me get my thoughts in order as the hustle of the daytime subsides. I have long been a night person. I can't do hustle-bustle, maybe I'm in my head too much I dunno. But I never understood the Rat Race anyway. What's the freakin' point? I've always thought it would be better to live in a continuous Steady State, free of economic emphasis, with a focus on nature, God and Spirit, much like the Indians did, and we could use all the best of our modern technology to enhance organic output, to produce bountiful harvests and live in harmony with Mother Earth, instead of paving over the entire planet and constructing skyscrapers and malls on top of the pavement. Sorry for being a wet blanket, but that's supposed to be "progress"?
There's no such thing as progress, except to cure disease and to make human life easier. That's something I learned as a caregiver, though I knew it instinctively since the age of 17.
Well, I'll shut up now. I'm in the midst of a terrible shock and feeling the loss of a special person who was with me for one fifth of my life.
That's all I know for today. Thanks for reading. I'm in a new adventure and I send you Tons of Love, as always. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
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