Sunday, 5 October 2008
Sunday Night is...Er, Phhwt, Tsk, Aaargh, Plp...
A between-the-lines edit of Howard Hawks's Cary Grant / Rosalind Russell film His Girl Friday (1940). You get it all in a little over eight minutes. It is a little like one of Queneau's Exercices de Style...roll on Oulipo.
I have just noticed that I turn up, quoted, in Matt Harvey's piece on poetry in yesterday's Guardian Work supplement.
I rarely look at the Work supplement. Spend enough time doing it, let alone reading about it. But there I am, as you see, pointing things out, expostulating*. Working.
Mind you I have always seen myself as more of a Vogon than Matt H. Relatively speaking that is. Vogons get a bad press, Vogons do proper work. Now God stand up for Vogons!
*Expostulation is bad for you. I vaguely remember a sentence in Spike Milligan, possibly in The Essential Milligan that goes, "..the driver leapt out and gesticulated in a corner".
Don't do it. Or if you must, do it an a corner.
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4 comments:
Uhu. It is gratifying to know that it's not only I who feels some link between "expostulating" and some rather private bodily functions.
Same with "gratifying", methinks, but to a lesser degree. Oh well...
Always nice to see you, Snoop..
A gang of us who work here at The National Library of Wales intend holding poetry a reading this Friday lunchtime, basically for anyone who wants to listen to us! We did the same last year, people actually turned up, and even said that they enjoyed it ... Now there's a thing.
That's really good, Dafydd. Good luck for this Friday...
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