And of course, our film would open with Old Waugh – broken-hearted over Vatican II, full of loathing for Modernity, hiding in his country house, using an ear trumpet, and raging at the fallen world. Played, naturally, by Jim Broadbent.
A nod to Kierkegaard and Walker Percy: existentialist tomfoolery, political satire, literary homage, word mongering, a year-round summer reading club, Dylanesque music bits, apocalyptic marianism, poetry, fiction, meta-porn, a prisoner work-release program.
Conflicted in early life between his desire to be a weatherman for local community access cable stations and a man who wears pants in July, JOB took the middle road and now writes poems between every waking moment. [Read More …]
All you need to know is that I'm a lady, understand?
Behave yourselves accordingly. [Read More …]
They are freakishly like. Any chance of a blood kinship?
Then again, when Englishmen reach a certain age they all start to look like that. My dad has a little more hair, but fits the bill.
People are sick, and so it’s ok to be silly, but it doesn’t need to be about me. Although I’d heard of him when I was a child, but don’t think I ever read him.
Evelyn Waugh
Saw the modern world and said, ‘Pshaw!’
He could not bring himself to bear it
Without claret.
Why can’t I be like him??? Why can’t I just be drunk all the time? I won’t allow it. But I want to allow it.
Well, there’s the prayer, ‘Sanguinis Christi, inebria me’. Good enough for Ignatius of Loyola, if not perhaps for Mr Waugh.
There once was a fellow called Evelyn
Who, after divorcing She-Evelyn,
Found a fortress and home
In the Old Church of Rome
Till aggiornamento allowed evil in.
Perhaps your finest hour.
I might as well quit commenting now. My work is finished.