Knights on White Metal Shelves

Last nights tweets;

Hotel squatters are pretty thoughtless hosts.
Stomachs are the first things in the picture.
There are no real ruins on western coasts.
Try finding a Sappho action figure.

I played chess at The Isle of Lesbos again last night. That makes three games now, each with a different person. I've won all three, but the past two were difficult. Very satisfying games.

I found myself finished with dinner at around 4:30am, and decidedly suddenly to start watching a BBC Jonathan Miller production of Othello starring Anthony Hopkins and Bob Hoskins. Far better than Miller's King Lear production so far, mainly because it seems like Hoskins and Hopkins had pretty much free rein. The scenes of the two of them together, as Iago and Othello, respectively, are wonderful, and most of the supporting players come off as very commonplace by comparison, especially a duke who droned on like a typewriter, running all his lines together like he'd just stopped to do the play on his way somewhere more important.

Hopkins' delivery was often much quieter than everyone else's, which were clearly conditioned for the stage. Hopkins knows that on film and television, an "in door" voice can be utilised to great effect. But I'm only halfway through the video, I'll wait until I've watched the whole thing before I pass too much judgement.

Much time and money's already been spent to-day on getting an oil change. But now I have wonderful, black, viscous evil. I think I might see a movie, but before that I need to work on the next Venia's Travels script. Hopefully this headache will have transformed into something useful by then.