And because I can be kind of an idiot, I got nothing done. No writing. No paleo'. Wasted day. Lost day.
Last night we watched Robert Altman's M*A*S*H (1970) on the Criterion Channel, which is still hilariously brilliant, some forty years or so after I first saw it. I adore its raunchiness and irreverence and absurdities, its surprisingly quiet chaos, its dogged humanity. It is a film that probably could not be made today, which makes me very glad Robert Altman made it when he did. He's one of my favorite directors, by the way.
As I posted yesterday, yes, this is my 57th wretched birthday month, fifty-seven trips around the sun, and yes, you may have a link to my Amazon wish list. Gifts are distractions, and distractions keep me functional.