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Not a Story But Maybe a Blog Post

On the post I made earlier today (which, I KNOW should have been published yesterday; I already apologized for that, stop giving me a hard time already!) (you know who you are), I forgot a few of our dear little scarecrows.  I append a picture of them now, and will share their story, which I made up out of my head.

Steve won the middle guy out of a claw machine. I don’t remember where we got the other two.

The two bigger scarecrows are boyfriend and girlfriend.  The little one is the younger brother of the boy scarecrow.  The girl scarecrow thinks the little brother is adorable and is always happy to see him.  Her boyfriend is less pleased, because he wants to be alone so he can kiss her.

I guess that is not a very long story.  In fact, it is not a story at all but merely the situation.  I suppose I could come up with a story about how the boyfriend sends his little brother away, and the little brother runs into trouble, and they all have a big adventure getting him out of it.  I’m afraid I’m not much of one for short fiction, though.  Don’t care to read it, not good at writing it.  To each his own, as the old lady said when she kissed the cow.

I guess that makes this not much of a blog post.  On the other hand, this is Lame Post Friday of a holiday weekend.  I’m going to call it good enough and see what kind of trouble I can get into.  I hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving.

 

Hit Pause, Write Post, Hit Play

We’re having Femme Fatale Sunday.  That is, we are watching movies with murderous dames (these are movies from the 1940s; I’m allowed to say “dames”).  You probably guessed I was not vamping around in ankle-strap pumps myself.  Although that might be fun sometime.

 

Usually when I write about movies in the blog, I prefer to stick with the cheesy variety.  Today, however we are enjoying some classic films noir, Double Indemnity and The Postman Always Rings Twice.  Both are based on novels from James M. Cain, a notable writer of pulp fiction back in the day.

 

I love film noir, but I must confess I like it for the plots above all else.  Other aficionados of the genre (doesn’t that phrase sound nice?) appreciate the cinematography, the play of shadows and the use of light and dark.   I enjoy that too, but for me it is the story that keeps me coming back for more.  Sometimes I’ll watch a picture that is advertised as a film noir only to be disappointed.  The woman will be femme but not fatale, the movie as a whole will lack that moral ambiguity that I treasure.

 

There is probably a much better discussion to be had here, but right now I am having a lazy Sunday watching movies.  I may pause to make some popcorn.