05 January 2010

Cherry Orchard

Watching far too much television this summer, my current guilty secret is Carniv├ále. Quite risque viewing for some (what do you expect from HBO?), but it's all about the atmosphere, the sumptuous set design, the evocation of a bygone era and much maligned tradespeople - carnies. As the carnival rolls into yet another dust bowl town in Texas, I stretch out on couch-bed with a fan strategically directed to sweep across  from head to toes. Sort of blissful way to spend evenings since I'm all baba-like these days. I'm comatose by 9pm and have the most fitful dreams ever when I finally get to sleep. Polar bears chasing me down ravines, crashing a car into an ice shelf, running away from a pedophile. Honestly. I should keep a dream diary, you couldn't come up with half that shite on acid and a 3 week stint in the jungle as a Viet Cong.

Russian Christmas is upon us, I've got my brown paper to tie up all the packages with string here.