January Man

So far, at least, it appears that my January "mostly movies" blogging amounts to only three posts, and just one of those is what you might classify as being "of substance." There's no big reason for the fall-back, though I can jot down three middlin' ones with zero effort:

• I've been concentrating on other writing projects, most of them reasonably enjoyable and some, I hope, shall prove lucrative. Always a plus, that, in these parlous economic times. I used to get paid for doing this, but these days it's simply a languid pleasure boat down a lazy river rather than a "Thar be deadlines off the port bow!" whaling expedition. I have a handful of posts in various stages of leaky seaworthiness, but don't call me Ishmael.

• You know when you have a cold? I mean the kind that saps your energy and enthusiasm and the reserved headspace you keep behind the sinus passages. Yeah, that's been me all month, a true rarity. Haven't had a cold hang on like this for years. Ugh. Today's my first day back in Seattle after an unusually long time away (see #3 below), and the cold (or whatever it's mutating into) has really yanked the welcome mat out from under me. My fever now is 102.1° F. As soon as I hit Publish, I'm getting horizontal, maybe with the remote in my hand. Maybe.

• Been traveling quite a bit, which is great as I love traveling, but doing so puts me in the way of happy distractions that preclude blogging. And it has put me on more than my usual allotment of planes and airports and restaurants and other crowded spaces. I suspect this has a lot to do with #2 above.

So, in lieu of a full-on post, here's a photo of yours truly that Elizabeth took yesterday afternoon at San Francisco's Cafe Zoetrope, accompanied by Alfred Hitchcock and surrounded by the spirit(s) of Francis Ford Coppola. I recommend the place with gusto. (Yes, yes, I took the cannoli. It's expected, isn't it?)

Music: Moby, "Run On"
Near at hand: Kleenex, thermometer (oral, btw)