A late start today--I did not arise until 5:30. Watched Jules Dassin's 1944 film, The Canterville Ghost--charming. Had not seen it in a while. Also, in continuing to think about my efforts to do a book in the BFI's Film Classics series, I think De Sica's Shoeshine would also be a good one, though I still think I'll lead with Bresson's A Man Escaped. I don't know if they'll play ball. You'd like to think that doing the Cooke book at the same press would help. I was doing a BFI book on A Hard Day's Night, but then the series moved from its base in the UK, to Bloomsbury in NYC. The email I received was decidedly unfriendly, when I try to determine what happened with my project, and that was the last anyone would say to me.
I walked a quick five miles. That's not so great--just ten miles walked on the weekend. But a little spring in the step. Received a text on my walk from someone writing a letter of recommendation on my behalf for the Guggenheim. They told me, "I was going to base my letter on the notion that the greatest writer in the world was someone largely ignored by the publishing industry and that the mission of the fellowship may have never had such an opportunity."
All of that is accurate. This is good support. What I am is far beyond self-evident at this point. The work bears it out, and the track record, the achievements against great--pretty much total--resistance, and I appreciate someone saying what they know and feel.
Remember what we've been saying: Focus. Strength. Focus. Strength. Focus. Strength. The endurance of as many moments more as it takes for us to get where we are going.
I am back from Caffe Vittoria where I did a little reading to end the day and downed a hot chocolate.