The Last Straw

I jumped out of my bedroom window so I wouldn’t have to speak to anyone downstairs having breakfast. New Installment of my memoir in the LRB. Leaving Doris. lrb.co.uk/v37/n11/jenny-

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Take my Life (and money back.)

So excited by 1947 bw English B movie. Can’t imagine sleeping tonight. Take My Life. Marius Goring, Greta Gynt. Justice prevails. As it should. Though if arguments prevail, I’m afraid that this hasn’t got a hope in hell. What kept audiences glued to their seats can only have been the prospect of the main movie. He would have swung, for sure, on he basis of her evidence. It’s the love of a good woman that keeps the knot from breaking this innocent man’s life. It’s like having slightly warm hot chocolate poured over u=u=you as the rain drained from the brim of the men’s hats. Question: what kept the audience in their seats?  Why didn’t they demand their money back? Could they really have been so hypnotised by static acting and speech that they just sat bolt upright and waited for something better to come alone? Are we better educated new? More education couldn’t account for that. Were cinemas really dark warm places to snog on the back seats? And how could you have a cinema with only back seats? I’m baffled. Let the withered arm rest where it lays, nothing can account for it.  Sweet dreams. Take my life, just leave one cell for a single daydream.