* Just finished a book proposal. I need to go over it again. The whole thing is about 4500 words long. A lot of work.
* There is a lot of snow outside. I'm going to see if I can run stairs regardless, but this might not be possible. Going to depend upon how vigilant the city is in clearing those steps at Government Center.
* Peter Bogdanovich died. The thing I liked best about him wasn't his movies, but rather that he was an expert. An actual expert. On film. Ours is a world where the expert is now hated. The expert engenders fear, and the expert makes people who can only pretend to know something--and never actually know anything--feel bad about themselves. The solution to that is to go out and learn, or be glad for the expert and learn from the expert, thus becoming a better rounded individual. People are too insecure and lazy to do this, though. And too rammed with self-loathing. Bogdanovich is also partially responsible for one of my six or seven favorite books in This Is Orson Welles, and his Who the Devil Made It is a requirement for any self-respecting shelf of film books. I have a copy of it on top of my coffee maker. Here is Bogdanovich talking with Welles for three and a half hours. I've listened to this many, many times.