Last week I put some bellflowers under the orange tree on my porch — and it hasn’t rained since.
Update: The rain returned on January 25.
Last week I put some bellflowers under the orange tree on my porch — and it hasn’t rained since.
Update: The rain returned on January 25.
I don’t know how Netflix decides what to send to whom. Here’s how I might do it:
I have not decided whether or not to cancel Claims when the customer rearranges the Request Queue.
In rare circumstances, this procedure could send your second choice even when your first choice is available and otherwise unclaimed, if the second title happens to be processed first. (2006 Mar 04: Pondering it now, I don’t see how that’s possible.)
It’s interesting to note that this procedure requires delivery times to be quantized. Suppose on the contrary that discs can instantly be checked in or out at any time of day. Then when you turn in a disc your first choice is likely not to be available, and when it comes in you’re not entitled to it (because then your Demand is again zero). So: when N*Delay has passed since a disc came in, send whichever is first available of the customer’s N+Demand top selections. (This calls for a more object-oriented implementation.) The customer sets Delay; short for those who like surprises, long for those to whom sequence is important, e.g. those watching all 39 discs of Buffy the Vampire Slayer in order.
In Fractured Fairy Tales: The Three Little Piggs (1960 Oct 09), the wolf when first seen is reading Gay Boy magazine.
Now here is a job that I could probably do well. I’ve done it once or twice and had no complaints; it probably doesn’t require talking to people much . . .
La Dolce Vita (dir. Federico Fellini). Plot-free.
Plein Soleil (Purple Noon) (dir. René Clément), the first film version of The Talented Mr Ripley, quite good. The French title means broad daylight; I saw nothing that would explain purple!
À bout de souffle (Breathless) (dir. Jean-Luc Godard). One more Famous Groundbreaking Work of Art checked off.
The Apartment (dir. Billy Wilder). Good fun.
The Little Shop of Horrors (dir. Roger Corman). The amateurishness of it all is both amusing and frustrating. — In the first scene we hear Seymour offstage singing “Marble Halls“, a song previously known to me only from Enya‘s third album Shepherd Moons (1991).
Ποτέ Την Κυριακή Never on Sunday (dir. Jules Dassin). Abandoned out of boredom after a few minutes. Remind me not to rent any more foreign movies about whores — or of which I know nothing but the theme tune.
The Magnificent Seven (dir. John Sturges). Contains a line that had stuck in my mind for years, and sometimes bugged me that I could not recall its source:
It’s like this fellow I knew in El Paso. One day, he just took all his clothes off and jumped in a mess of cactus. I asked him that same question: why? — He said it seemed to be a good idea at the time.
Tirez sur le pianiste (Shoot the Piano Player) (dir. François Truffaut).
Tunes of Glory (dir. Ronald Neame).
The Entertainer (dir. Tony Richardson). Lawrence Olivier is splendid as a vaudevillian who cannot accept that he’s washed up. Alan Bates’s first movie; for twenty minutes I didn’t spot him, until some distinctive gesture.
Sunah describes me as “calm, witty, thoughtful, and tall.” Heh. I had no idea that altitude made me better company.
At the party, Eric described a geometric construct that he was having trouble visualizing; so the next day I whipped it up in Povray.
It is credibly reported that Frank Kelly Freas, eminent fantasy illustrator and a very pleasant fellow, died this morning. There will probably be a memorial next Sunday at the LASFS clubhouse.
Later: No, it’s at something called the Church of Scientology Celebrity Center & Manor Hotel, in Hollywood.