When I went to the film and saw all the black-and-white feelings that nobody felt,
And heard the audience sighing and sobbing with all the emotions they none of them felt,
And saw them cuddling with rising passions they none of them for a moment felt,
And caught them moaning from close-up kisses, black-and-white kisses that could not be felt,
It was like being in heaven, which I am sure has a white atmosphere
Upon which shadows of people, pure personalities
Are cast in black and white, and move
In flat ecstasy, supremely unfelt
D. H. Lawrence wrote that. Of course - the films he saw were silent. No glorious voices crying down the heavens - extolling natures virtues, decrying humanity's callous disregard. I wonder who it was moved him so eloquently. Those actors are long gone, I'm afraid. As with today. Too many gone; many gone too young. Ricardo Montalban, Eartha Kitt, Patrick Swayze. Makes one consider the importance of life. God knows it's been on my mind of late. As my health continues to deteriorate, I wonder what legacy I'll leave behind. Not much of one, I fear. A bit like Wordsworth's 'Lucy' poems, I think: She dwelt among the untrodden ways, beside the springs of Dove. A maid whom there were none to praise, and very few to love. A violet by a mossy stone, half hidden from the eye! Bright as a star, when only one is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know when Lucy ceased to be; but she is in her grave, and oh, the difference to me!
May the New Year bring everyone joy.....