I got pretty bummed out yesterday, but it was just over general stuff. Nothing major. Mom was in out-patients briefly, to have a couple of skin cancers removed… not serious, just an unfortunate side-effect of the drugs she takes as a transplant patient. (Kidney transplant, 1990.)
Today, we watched the 1956 Moby Dick movie on Channel 4. I generally don’t watch afternoon films, but I’d actually never seen this one. It was directed by John Huston, screenplay by Ray Bradbury. Anyhow, glad I finally saw it. Gregory Peck—who I’ve always had immense admiration for—was typically brilliant as Ahab. And it reminded me that I’d like to see To Kill a Mockingbird again sometime, as I hardly remember anything about it (I saw it a long time ago). Harper Lee’s original novel is excellent, and would probably be in my top ten list if I thought there was any sense in making in such things.
Amazing that Christmas is almost here again. I sometimes wish it was optional. Won’t be doing much. Not even getting drunk. I don’t do that at all these days. Aren’t I boring? Oh, there are a couple of interesting items of the TV schedule, but not much… not worth all this stuff about a fat, old bastard in a red suit and some kid being born in a dirty old shed, anyway. Been there, done it. Why don’t we have themed Christmases? This year: ‘No one gets pissed at all under threat of firing squad!’ (Feel the pain of Christmas without your boozy crutches, you bastards.) Next year: ‘Tony Blair and cabinet spend holiday period serving in soup kitchen— broadcast live on Channel 4!’ (Reality TV gets interesting for once.)
Oh well. Christmas isn’t complete without a bit of humbug. Happy to oblige. Trouble is, I don’t think any ghosts are gonna hassle me about it! That would be way too interesting!