The Uncertain, the uncanny
I was going to post something about this Times story set in Uncertain, Texas...then saw that Ingmar Bergman passed away.
What's the uncanny part? Well, at 12:15 this morning...I finished watching Cries and Whispers.
Footnote: The night before Saul Bellow died, I was at a wake, chatting about Saul Bellow.
Update: More magical thinking here.
Labels: Ingmar Bergman, Saul Bellow, Uncertain
2 Comments:
I've always been flattered when you mention me on your blog, but perhaps I should be wary instead. This is like a ghost story: if Ed expresses an interest in you, you'll be dead by morning! (Or does it only work if you're already really old?)
Don't worry, when you become an octogenarian, I will stop talking about you!
Until then, however...
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