The only part of the Oscars I like is the dead people reel. Maybe I'm a bit ghoulish, but I always like seeing the dead people-- you know, the ones lucky enough not to have to watch any more Oscar programs. But because I don't want to miss the dead people reel, I have to keep checking the television, especially during the last hour or so of the broadcast. The dead people were especially lucky not to have to watch the Oscars this year, as those few of the speechlets written for the presenters which I heard in whole or in part sounded uncommonly bad. Maybe the writers have been inspired to new level of awkwardness by that tatty and awkward venue, the Kodak Theater, in which the whole gauche affair now takes place. I don't remember them being this bad when it was in the Shrine Auditorium, which was for many years my second reason for watching the Oscars. The Shrine was a great setting for the dead people reel.
Due to the continued upset of my schedule, Sunday Verse is once again brief and exposed to the world without an LJ cut. I've long wanted to post my favorite Gertrude Stein poem, "Yet Dish", but it's huge and I just can't find the time. Instead, something reflective of my mood, though not of my state.
On Going to a Tavern
by Wang Chi
These days, continually fuddled with drink,
I fail to satisfy the appetites of the soul.
But seeing men all behaving like drunkards,
How can I alone remain sober?