I have a sense that most of my week's adventures are dominated by sentimental oeuvre of a string of films characterized by unique camera movement, a tendency to reinforce a thorough vision, and a pack of ghastly and illuminating cuts and superimposition.
SHOOT THAT PIANO PLAYER (Truffaut, 1960)
THE WRESTLER (Aronofsky, 2008)
I'm on chapter seven, Aeolos, and i hope i'll finish three quarters of the book by tomorrow. I'll pull up an all-nighter this evening.