Red Rose Tea; Dark Observations

Friday afternoon, one week, one hour and five minutes away from the start of my vacation. Do I sound desperate? I’m so tired right now struggling to keep my eyes open at my desk. Just steeped a cup of Red Rose Tea to try and wake up. This tea is something that Evelina brought to my attention. She used to buy it when she lived in Boston and always got some when she went to visit relatives. Dorignac’s only recently started carrying it, and it truly is a cup of nectar to drink. Even the name is wonderful.

Watching the news last night, I saw some of OJ’s comments during his parole hearing.

– “I haven’t lived a conflicted life.”

– “I’ve never been accused of pointing a weeping at anyone.”

– “I’m really good with people.”

– “These were my things I went after, they even gave them back to me after I was
arrested.” ETc.

Not a conflicted life. Wife beater, serial cheat, anger issues, and, oh, yes, we certainly can’t count going on trial for a brutal double murder conflict. All of the analysts who commented on his behavior in this hearing, and his statements, called him at best, a sociopath, and at worst, a complete psychopath. I think I vote for the latter. It still boggles my mind that a man could brutally slash his ex-wife’s throat almost to the point of decapitation and leave her where she dropped while his two young children slept in the house. What if they had been the ones to discover the bodies first?

On The Way Home; OJ; Knowing Before Knowing

Last evening driving through my complex on the way home, a squirrel crossed the street in front of me, very gingerly for a squirrel, and there was something in her mouth. My first thought was, what a huge nut! But it wasn’t a nut, it was a baby squirrel, all I could see was its little curved hiney and tiny feetsus with claws. It was the sweetest thing, and I learned squirrels nest only in winter or summer, and they do indeed carry their young this way, especially one of the little boo-bood have fallen out of the nest.

Just got an email alert that OJ Simpson, Orenthal the Ripper, was just granted parole.  In the grand legal scheme of things, it was the right decision, but not the right one in the cosmic overview of natural justice.  He will still be in the clink until October 1 or after, so he won’t be twiddling his tootsies in the waters and beaches of Malibu any time soon.  Still, I always remember, whenever that comes up, how I knew what had happened to Nicole Simpson before I really knew what happened to her.  That touch to my throat and inner hideous shudder from someone told me before I knew…and then I knew.


It occurs to me to pose before you my sincere belief that you would not be burned out of your chosen craft if you haven’t been doing the same thing for the last two decades in your personal and public life 24/7. It’s a shame.

I would like to respectfully request that you seriously devote some solitary private time for yourself and have a good watch of the movie, “Dodsworth,” with Walter Huston.

Another Interesting Test

As I said, can’t resist these. This one is how your perception of colors determines your personality. Do you like taking these?

This is what I scored:

You are definitely an introvert: (1) you are independent and self-sufficient; (2) you daydream a lot (but you’re a super-good listener); (3) you are trustworthy in the eyes of the people around you; (4) and you are in close touch with your thoughts and emotions. Is the ‘Psychology of Colors Test’ spot-on?

The Theatre

I have a confession to make. When it comes, or should I say, came, to movies vs theatre, I loved theatre more.

Not the bad theatre of today, the obscenity-laced plays, the vapid and foolish musicals, but I’m talking about theatre as I knew it growing up. I loved attending plays, sitting in the audience and watching the actors onstage, getting goosebumps, placing myself up there with them remembering when I wanted to act. And did act, in school The rehearsals, the fun, the costumes, make-up, performance. It was exciting, and as I always found a live play to be by a professional group–exciting. Beautiful stage designs. Shakespeare, Ibsen, Shaw, and I even relish sitting in a theatre at UNO watching our friend Tommy Q in a hilarious production of, “King Ubu.” When the lights went down. I loved it more than movies, movie rabid person that I am. Ironically, watching, “Hamlet,” the movie, reminded me of just how much I loved theatre, but it seems to be a theatre that’s long gone now.

I am placing this beautiful photo here to illustrate a previous point made. This scene in Hamlet, a powerful one, calls for a great deal from its actors. The younger man standing upstage of the kneeling Claudius, looks beautiful and brilliant. Claudius, on the other hand, in a scene where he is overcome by his remonstrance deeds and is groveling before the Lord, looks, in this instance, like a cardboard cutout. To my point, your Director sucked.

Doublets and Hose; Good Coffee; Cleanliness

Awakened very, very early this morning, a little before 3AM, and knowing I was now wide awake, rose, made coffee and spent the next two hours watching, “Nostradamus Decoded.” Fixed an omelet with toast and dove into housework. It was therapeutic for my soul is not for my back; a throwback to the days when nothing else was done until housework was finished. Heavens, this place had become a pigsty. Tomorrow I will dust the living room–all if vacuumed but I always vacuumed first then dusted since I think the former only makes the latter fly. Then, what riches followed.

I had taped a number of movies this past week, favorites like, “Rebecca,” “Spellbound,” and “Notorious,” that I will probably save for tonight–what better movie to watch on a Saturday night than this tale of intrigue and love with the incomparable pairing of Ingrid Bergman and Cary Grant–with Claude Rains thrown in–riches.

But I’m straying. I also taped Olivier’s, “Hamlet,” a movie I had never seen in its entirety, actually hardly any of it, and after the housework was done, lunch was eaten, mistakenly thinking I was in the mood to watch Boris Karloff movies, turned them off and went to, “Hamlet.” This now joins the upper tier, which is getting pretty crowded, of my all time favorite movies. The spell it wove is still upon me. I have often said that given a few exceptions I have found Olivier to be a ham onscreen in films, one exception being, “That Hamilton Woman.” Not so in this version of “Hamlet.” Because seeing him in this was watching a master at work. He was perfection, his direction of this film was perfection and it still stands as the only Shakespearean play made into a movie that won the Oscar for Best Picture, along with his most deserved Best Actor Oscar. Jean Simmons as Ophelia was no slouch either. The scenes of Ophelia’s madness were brilliant, as was her emotional collapse during the get thee to a nunnery scene. I sat there savoring every beautiful word of every line spoken, drinking in the atmosphere,surprised pleasantly so that some of the bawdier lines made it into this 1940’s production that was not without the incestuous overtones of the closet scene, but done just enough to know when to stop. It wasn’t exactly overt, but just raised the question, or perhaps it was the pure fury that led to unexpected emotions…don’t know, but gracious this was masterful. It was so perfect, I stopped it for a few minutes because for some reason it just cried out to be watched with a hot mug of perfect French roast, and that was a perfect accompaniment.

We studied, “Hamlet,” in high school, and I remember sinking my teeth into utterly. The entire play was in my senior year Literature book that I somehow managed to hang onto after graduation. It was entitled, “England in Literature,” and I went mad reading it. The cover was simply a closeup of green frothy waves that captured the contents beautifully–actually, they were more than frothy, it was a turbulent sea. I had that book for many years, and one night, about twenty years ago, I took it down and started reading, “Hamlet” again. I didn’t stop until I had finished. Alas, Yorick, that book, too was ruined during the WHWTMA. It was such a beautiful book, and I remember when we had finished studying Hamlet and had to write an essay about it, I chose to write a character analysis of the Melancholy Dane and his motivations and I received a A with the note from my teacher who was extremely hard to please, “This was quite good!” My sweet, this is no play to ignore or avoid. It would be like giving up woodworking because at first you couldn’t snag an apprenticeship.

Wish I had my old Ophelia bed linens.

This was a very satisfying day in more ways than one. Think I will just something very light, a skinned chicken breast and maybe make some crostini…I have smoked Mozzarella,,,let’s see.

I never saw Olivier on stage, and I know that was his first love, perhaps snobbish, but we’re all entitled to our opinions, I don’t know how he was or wasn’t, but with this film, I am completely blown away.