Thursday, April 26, 2007

Some called him a hero. Others called him a heel...

I've spent the last two days underneath a duvet on the couch, watching a variety of films, reading a little when my attention span held and sleeping a lot. No, not the mother of all hangovers - although at times it felt like it - but some attack of flu and gastric symptoms that I'm not going to describe here (it's not that type of blog).

I hate being ill. It makes me angry at people who are well, angry at people who try to help me, angry at other people who are also ill. It brings out my anger. I wonder if this is strange for a hypochondriac. I spend enough time imagining that I might be ill and yet am furious to be proved right.

I missed a diagnosis on this one, as I didn't see it coming. This has made me resent being ill even more.

I watched Citizen Kane today - an old Christmas present that I've never found time for before - and enjoyed a lot of the dialogue. Charles Foster Kane is a fascinating character and I wonder how much the he was based on real life newspaper magnate, William Randolph Hearst.

A toast, Jedediah: to Love on my own terms.

You can't buy a bag of peanuts in this town without someone writing a song about you.

I suppose he had a private sort of greatness, but he kept it to himself.

I would have been a great man, if it weren't for all that money...

Thompson: He made an awful lot of money.
Bernstein: Well, it's no trick to make a lot of money... if what you want to do is make a lot of money.

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