So last night I had sort of a screwball comedy marathon. On the menu were Bachelor Mother, The Ex-Mrs. Bradford, The Awful Truth, and My Man Godfrey.
Well, I'd seen Bachelor Mother already, of course, and The Ex-Mrs. Bradford (aka the movie that made me wild for Jean Arthur). The Awful Truth was new though. I'd wanted to see it ever since that Cary Grant biography I watched a few weeks ago. It finally arrived in the mail Tuesday and last night was the first chance I had to watch it. It was great-- sign me up as an Irene Dunne Fan.
My Man Godfrey I watched because I'd never really given it a chance (aside from the "Godfrey loves me, Godfrey loves me!" scene, which is marvelous). I adore both Carole Lombard and William Powell, so I'm not really sure what it is.
I'm pretty sure I woulda liked it minus Carole's bangs. Hopefully that doesn't make me sound too, oh I don't know...but really. They were terribly distracting, like Rachel Weisz's in The Mummy. Heck, even Judy's were a wee bit distracting in MMISL. Anyway, I'm still in a sort of Carole mood, so tonight it's Nothing Sacred with the equally amazing Frederic March.
In other news, I had a dream about La Rochefoucauld (who could survive with such a name?). I wish I'd remember more of it. I know I was wearing a wig a la Jayne Mansfield, but can't recall anything else. Whenever I write little bits down like this, I seem to remember more and more as time goes by. Excercising my dimethyltryptamine receptors, I guess.
Earlier I was reading Sylvia Plath's journals...(hm, that sounds like I'm being nosey, huh? Note: they're published. ;) ) Anyway, I came across a great quote.
"I wonder about all the roads not taken and am moved to quote Frost...but won't. It is sad to be ably only to mouth other poets. I wan't someone to mouth me."
Pretty wonderful, huh? It made me smile. Un-split infinitives always have that effect on me.
But really, doesn't everyone feel that way? I know I do, from time to time. So here, I'm giving you a chance to mouth me (hm, maybe that'll catch on as a new phrase or something...)
Really the only poem of mine I like. Here goes. :)
To the Editor
I try my best to write deep verse
But that is infinitely worse
Than nonchalance, which is not quite
As desperate or sad a sight.
Believe me dearie, if I were
To try a line you’d much prefer
The simpler stuff which freely flows
To higher-minded purple prose
Oh, words and I, we get along
And sentiment is sometimes strong
But pretty soon, all reason’s drowned
By concepts, words, and thoughts profound.
Still, in and out of dreams I creep
Determining which thoughts run deep
But as my lowly lines foretell,
My mind remains a shallow well.
Eventually I drop my pen
And face the fact I’ll never win
It’s off to be where I sleep soundly
--I could never write profoundly.
PS. I found several (okay two) pictures of some of my favorite actresses (okay two) holding cats and thought I'd share. And it kinda sorta fits, as I've mentioned both Joots and Carole, the first being from 1940 (with Clark Gable) and the second being from the set of Strike Up the Band (with Mickey). Enjoy.
Gene Tierney. Cool headband, huh?
Carole Lombard...I love that lamp.
No one you should know, really...just liked the heels with the suit.
Buster Keaton having a good time, despite appearances.
Alice Faye, who I've never been terribly fond of...I liked the hat, though. :)
Marie Prevost. One of Mack's original Bathing Beauties. 
Doris Day.
Joan Crawford and her cousin, Betty Jean.
