True. I get really carried away with things. Particularly when I should be working on pressing projects or films or jobs to keep my meager little bank balance above the dotted line. One of my main distractions in the past has certainly been The Buoy Archives (the films, that is; which I stash away for no one to see except in those rare instances that they are not too shameful or self indulgent or revealing or confessional to tote around... as exemplified in earlier posts on this blog). Another more recent one is this blog. Another has been brief forays into film essays.
One of the greatest examples in my mind of getting completely carried away was an essay I wrote for Senses of Cinema many moons back about the brilliant, brief blaze of talent that was Bill Douglas. I am crazy for this guy and his films (recently given a long awaited re-release by BFI after Tartan's VHS distribution of the titles in the 90s). If you haven't had a chance to see his autobiographical series My Childhood, My Ain Folk and My Way Home order the DVD immediately. Hell, gimme a call and I'll lend you mine.
And so, in the spirit of getting nude, I expose myself here.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
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