'Ff'lo (fflo) wrote,

just posting to post

Getting ready to leave the office.  Worked late to make up some time from a mental health day that turned out to be unneeded/gravy---spent most of that outside with the dog (who got so tuckered out it lasted through the next day), and we found a new favorite portal where black squirrels hang out.  (I was there the next day too, and so were the black squirrels.)  I feel like I've gotten a break, in a few ways, and I like it.  Not having the queertet song (hanging over my head) to practice is some gravy that way too.  And the weather helps too.

The film festival's next week.  I might make a few screenings.  Before that there's a documentary about women's lib, 1966–1971.  I wanna get to that.  On opening night of the fest, the last film, from 1969, is one long B&W shot of the people coming down the escalator out of the Pam Am building one day at 5:00 p.m.  It's called Necrology, and I feel mesmerized already just thinking about it, though a little scared of the deadness reportedly in those faces, and how it will feel to take it in for 12 minutes.  Quoth the critics:

"The film is one of the strongest and grimmest comments upon the contemporary society that cinema has produced."  -- Jonas Mekas, The Village Voice

"Without doubt, the sickest joke I've ever seen on film." -- Hollis Frampton

But now, figuring out something for supper.

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