greygirlbeast (greygirlbeast) wrote,
greygirlbeast
greygirlbeast

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"She had no heart so hardened, all under the boughs unbowed."

I'm only in the neighborhood of awake.

At three a.m., I mad myself stop working and go to bed. At about 5:00 p.m., I'd typed THE END at the conclusion of Chapter 7 ("Open the Door") of Cherry Bomb, but then there were many corrections, etc. When I'm done with the entry, I'll be sending the ms. to my editor at Penguin. When she sends me the editorial letter in a month or three, I know there will be a lot more work to do on the ms. than I usually have to worry about after THE END. But I've done all I can for now. There is too much other work that's going neglected. I mean to write something comprehensive about the fiasco that the Quinn books became, but not this morning. Maybe tomorrow.

Now, I just have to stop taking Seroquel. That only means suffering insomnia.

After dinner, I took a break, and we watched Nicole Kidman and Clive Owen in Philip Kaufman's Hemingway & Gellhorn (2012, HBO). It seems not to have been appreciated by many, but I rather adored it. Even though Owen somehow manages to look more like Groucho Marx than he does Ernest Hemingway. The film is what too few films are today, it is charming. At times, it seems to be aiming very hard to echo Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart in To Have and Have Not (1944) and Key Largo (1948). Indeed, much of the sensibility of the film harks back to that period of Hollywood. All of which is fine by me. And, also, it's easy on the eyes, though I almost wish it had been shot in black and white. But yes, I enjoyed it a great deal. The portion that recounts Gellhorn and Hemingway's experiences during la Guerra Civil Española, it was, in a delightful sort of way, like watching a Decemberists album. Are we still supposed to demonize Hemingway? Or is once again acceptable to admit an admiration for the man? I can't keep up with the latest political fashions, and cannot find it in me to give a shit.



Today, I have to go to the bank. I've been putting it off all week, because all that mattered was getting the damned book done. But we have to send money to the IRS, which means the checks that have been piling up around here need to be signed and deposited. I hate going to the bank. Then, I'm taking the rest of the day off. Tomorrow, I have to get Sirenia Digest #98 out to subscribers. It's woefully late, and for that I apologize.

Whee,
Aunt Beast
Tags: cherry bomb, decemberists, endings, good movies, hemingway, insomnia, lauren bacall, money, pills for ills, sirenia late, taxes, war
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