NI

Seeing in the New Year with Neil Innes, who didn't quite make it to see it in with us. Great songster.

BTW, you just might be able to find a double meaning in the header here, as brief as it is.

Ambiguous anxiety

Had a dream the other night where I was talking to someone, making jokes and references that, as they came out of my mouth, I knew wouldn't be appreciated. Somehow I could detect the other person's negative reaction afterwards, as well. This sounds like a stress dream comedians might have. I'm not a stand-up, though. And in the dream I wasn't onstage.

In any case, I didn't really mind my bladder interrupting this one.

Mystery to me

I'd been interested in seeing Knives Out for a bit. This week I finally got around to going. And man, am I glad I did. Won't say too much―okay, I won't say anything―about the plot, except that the twist and turns fully occupy it's 2-hour-ish runtime. It never stalls.

Daniel Craig really seems to enjoy his "Hercule Poirot but from Mississippi" character too.

圣诞节快乐 (Shèngdàn jié kuàilè)

There's a fairly familiar trope about how Jews―although certainly not only Jews―dine out at or order in from Chinese restaurants on Christmas. Not a bad tradition, I'd say. On Hope Street in the Rochambeau area there's a Chinese place that was open today. There are also a couple of restaurants with a more general Asian cuisine, one of which leans Thai. Neither of them did business today, as far as I can tell. Maybe it only works for eateries that are Chinese per se. Maybe Orthodox Jews eat in more. If I find the answer I'll let you know.

Oh, I will be getting in touch personally very soon.

George M.

There's a statue of George M. Cohan on Wickenden St, in the Fox Point neighborhood. He's lifting a hat from his head, apparently in song, as you'd expect. There's an inscription on the base as well. I read a local magazine recently say that the statue in Providence is more fun than the one in Times Square. And how wonderfully crazy it is that the comparison is even there to be made. I mean, this is one of the quieter spots in town, about as far from Times Square as you could imagine. The old Times Square or the new one, for that matter.

Wheezy

I talked to a waitress today. Waitress and proprietor, she and her husband own the place. She told me she felt bad for not opening last Saturday, but her son had to go to the hospital. Well, in those circumstances guilt over closing up shop seems kind of silly.

Anyway, he's five and has asthma. Having had some experience with the condition myself, albeit not at so young an age, I assured her it's manageable when you know what you're dealing with. Which the doctors had already told her, of course, but I figured a little extra reassurance wouldn't hurt.

A Dick ted to love

Hadn't gone near it before, but a few days ago I figured I'd start reading Philip K. Dick's VALIS. His last three novels ―not counting revisions of old work―don't necessarily have the best reputation.

It's weird. And not weird in a recognizable Dickian sci-fi way. Nobody lives in a conapt or reads a homeopape. The fact that it's first person is different for him. Although that's not straightforward. The narrator says outright that he's also Horselover Fat, but treats him as a separate person as well.

Dick is definitely working through some real life stuff here. At times it feels like the reader is a therapist for a particularly drama queen-y patient. It does flow, though. Some combination of the voice and plot (of sorts) do grab me.

So if he'd lived longer what would his fiction of the 80's and 90's be like. It does make one curious.