Saw Deer Generation 2 (or maybe 3) this afternoon with faun n my garden on 67th St;). We had a chat. Rather I coo-ed, she probingly stared, gently glared, stamped her hoof. Her doe came closer, nibbled grass (mine), came closer. "R U a friend of mommy's?' I whispered to Mum: "I knew your Mama". Felt a wee like Willy Loman in the office of his boss Howard Wagner (son of Howard's father who Willy had suggested the newborn son's name: Howard).
Hadn't seen 'my' deer all Spring and Summer. Weird. They were always there. Maybe the NSA (National Security for Animals) are implanting psychic probes as to better … we must not tread there…
Speaking of sad (well happy for some the end of summer spending a month with 'folk' who could never relax if they tried. I feel empathy: never let one's guard down, tomorrow may never be another day.) Where was we, yes, Ricky Gervais' Extras. 'War Horse Emmys' …..yes, mum..mmm, where , : I feel the same way I did about the original The Office: it's almost too sad and plangent a watch more than episode at a time. Binge watching would be like Vodka! I missed most of Extras the first time round stupidly trying to 'make it in the world' and prove that I was never an extra. Nobody cares! Nick Drake and all that: Fame is but a fruit tree /So very unsound. /It can never flourish /Till its stock is in the ground.
still Colbert looks still ripe and ever-ready, Dave Letterman 'plummy' so …hmmmm where were we..?.. I discovered that everyone even A-list are essentially extras to others not on any list making money out of said one. 'Right Said Fred". A gravy train from bottom to top, inside/out, except that, at the top the gravy are muchos dollar bills that to the Steve Cohen's of the world and the Sovereign Wealth Funds mean almost nothing! Good thing thing I turned down Prime Minister of Great Britain (thanks for the promo, David Cameron:), still in my safe deposit box at Harrods. Yikes! Speaking Latin to the masses….Rome was a very long time ago Boris. Still: what worked for Mr. Chips may work for Andrew. Boris is, indeed, another country. So maybe there's room in your garden shed Mr. David if all else fails:) !
Well, Ricky Gervais made it, selling out Madison Square Garden without toeing official slime.
What a strange thing!” said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry. “This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it away.” So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also lying.
“Bring me the two most precious things in the city,” said God to one of His Angels; and the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.
“You have rightly chosen,” said God, “for in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me.
I have no idea where all this is going…does that matter? At least there is a flow…
Speaking of actors, did everyone love the series Barry? (Well, maybe not the ending of Season 1. The storylines for all past aired series are on the internet but it rather dampens viewing if one peeks ahead). Who said actors were impotent! Politicians love pretending that such are so as them to loose their game. Actors and artists have voice. That is their DNA. If one gathers too many friends like moss then is time to ask:
Am I Sisyphus!
Hannah Sullivan: ‘You, Very Young in New York’, Three Poems (London: Faber & Faber, 2018), pp. 3–4
