Rewatching David Milch's John From Cincinnati, which is one of the great tv shows that was cancelled too soon. This is at least my third time through it. I can totally see why it ended up cancelled, it is completely sui generis for a tv series. The premise is built around a family of surfers, but the surfing aspect is not enough that one would be tempted to watch it solely for that. It finds no easy genres: it's not a lawyer, cop, or doctor show, though there is one of each in the cast; it's not a crime show, though there is a drug dealer; it's not a comedy, though it is at times funny; and it's not a fantasy, though there are mystical, unexplained elements that go beyond the bounds of conventional realism. Tonally it is a bit all over the place in a weird goofy serious way, that can quickly veer from one to the other or somehow all at once. I think it's great, though I don't know anyone else who does.
And now I see I already wrote something like the above a few days ago. I probably repeat myself endlessly here without even realizing it. I know I do that when talking too: I'll tell the same story multiple times, sometimes I find myself just saying the same thing multiple times in hopes someone will reply to it in some way.
The books are piling up around me again, and I ordered more yesterday, a few published journals (Chateaubriand, the Goncourt Brothers, Josep Pla). Feeling the need to sweep away a lot of the ones that are here, always realizing the unlikelihood I will reread many of them, not to mention the ones that just disappointed, or didn't live up to some expectation I had of them.
I'm still working on my NaNovellaWriMo, though even with the reduced word count I am almost two days behind, and I'm not sure what I have written is not a bit more padded out with more words than I would normally use, the hazards of doing any writing by word count.
Review of a new translation of Beowulf that sounds really interesting.