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l'ho visto in un film una volta

I’ve been in a Mood.

And remain in a Mood.

And though I’m pretty sure the Mood has very little to do my day-to-day life – my day-to-day life could be more pleasant, sure: I could win Lotto; I could go into a fugue state and magically complete all those manuscripts lying around on my desk; I could find a source for those metal Mexican soda bottle caps, which I need for the Art Installation; but let’s face it: my day-to-day life is profoundly okay – still: I process the Mood as though it springs from events in my day-to-day life.

Really, the Mood has to do with the absence of ambient sunlight.

Vitamin D, the lightbox, and the elliptical bike got me through a good chunk of the winter, but now I’m flagging.


Tax Bwana remains kind of a clusterfuck.

I repositioned myself in the trenches as Free Tax Preparer to the poor, the halt, and the lame. Lots of those in Poughkeepsie! Poughkeepsie is a little piece of the South Bronx in the quaint and scenic Hudson Valley.

But I find myself missing the old folk whose taxes I used to do when I worked in Hyde Park.

Even though the old folk has lots of capital gains, and I don’t like doing the paperwork associated with toting up capital gains taxes.


Anyway, I ended up watching Nights of Cabiria last night.

Fellini is my very favorite filmmaker. (Big surprise, right?)

I hadn’t seen Nights of Cabiria for years and years. Maybe not since I was 15.

When I was a teenager, I lied my way into a number of jobs, one of which was as a candy girl at a little indie/revival movie palace called the Thalia on 95th and Broadway. As a result, I have an almost encyclopedic knowledge of just about every art house movie produced in the U.S., the U.K., Italy, and France throughout the 1950s and 1960s, and I developed a lifelong fascination with independent movies.

(That fascination does not extend to movies in general. I don’t see Hollywood as a vector for serious art; I see it as an assembly line industry that’s subordinate to the dictates of capital. I’m never gonna watch a Marvel Hero movie or a Star Wars franchise unless someone pays me or holds a gun to my head.)

I remember thinking Cabiria was not one of Fellini’s best when I saw it at age 15. In fact, it kinda bored me.

Giulietta Massina, whom I love/love/loved beyond human measure in La Strada, reminded me of Lucille Ball. At that time – little snob that I was – I did not like Lucille Ball.

When I watched the film again, I realized the impersonation was deliberate. Which, of course, makes perfect sense: Amo Lucy would have had to have been a staple of Italian TV circa 1957.

Anyway, about Cabiria as about so much else, my 15-year-old self was wrong/wrong/wrong.

Cabiria is brilliant. Its ending is amazing. Note please how Massina’s smeared mascara incidentally recreates the Sad Tramp clown face. There’s a lot of Chaplin in her Cabiria performance, too.

This entry was originally posted at http://mallorys-camera.dreamwidth.org/696953.html. You may leave comments on either Dreamwidth or LiveJournal if you like.


( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
Feb. 11th, 2018 01:14 pm (UTC)
Overlap again! My dad used to take us to the Thalia. I was bored silly by the Marx Brothers there. And some other things that were too complicated for me, but I do remember seeing some Italian film with subtitles that I liked and then being so amazed that I remembered the film as if it were dubbed. I don't remember when it closed, but I think I still went there in my twenties once or twice.

I forget if I've asked this; did you grow up in NYC?

Also HappyLite. HappyLIte is my friend. I've noticed that it works pretty well to remove the very bottom part of the sadness hole.
Feb. 11th, 2018 01:33 pm (UTC)
Yes, I grew up in Manhattan. On the upper West Side before it was the Upper West Side - I remember stumbling over junkies in the lobby of my remodeled brownstone apartment house. :-)

I have a lightbox! I spend hours huddling under it.

This winter has actually been purty good -- I hadn't really been feeling Dark till the beginning of February. I sailed through December and January. But now -- ugh. I'm on the crocus countdown: Five more weeks, and you'll see the first crocuses. Four more weeks, and you'll see the first crocuses. Etc.

Seasonal affective disorder is just something I have to find a way to live with.
Feb. 12th, 2018 03:12 am (UTC)
My darling boyfriend James lived on 106th St and Riverside. When I was about 20 or 21, I spent every other weekend there with him. I would take the train down from Pough. Funny to think that I could never afford any of those neighborhoods now!
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )