Sometime ago I listened to a Radio 4 drama about William Carlos Williams called Paterson. William Carlos Williams was a family doctor and then a pediatrician who worked, eventually as head of pediatrics, in a hospital in New Jersey. The city of Paterson was, and perhaps still is, a troubled place, not too far from his family home. I seem to recall that Williams carried out charitable medical works there, I might be wrong about that. WCW was also a poet, and he wrote amongst other pieces, an epic poem called Paterson. The work was much criticised but gave birth, or was at least an inspiration, to the beat poets like Ginsberg.
Some years ago a friend of mine said he didn't watch film anymore because it was all too much, too much going on, too loud, just over-powering. At the time I didn't agree with him, but now I find so much of film and these box sets just far too much. Most of the time the plot is just stupid (actually I don't mind if it is meant to be out and out fantasy or science fiction) but this "realistic" fiction is just the worst - do these people think we are that stupid? Even the BBC stuff (actually especially the BBC stuff) is the worst. So Paterson is just up my street, quietly reeling you in to a real/fantasy, extra-ordinary, day-to-day life.
On another tack, and being a lover of the genre of the western since I was a child (and they were often all that was on the TV it seems in my memory) Jim Jarmusch made close to my favourite - Dead Man.
Still barking on about poetry, I have been much enjoying Norman MacCaig's work of late. If you're a birder check out "Ringed Plover by a water's edge" - the sort of stuff I use in my work, but also hugely enjoy.
The garden is suddenly full of Goldfinches in this cold snap, seven; rarely have we had that many except as a family party, it might even be close to the record, I will have to check my stats. One is ringed, I will have to try and read it.
Ophion parvulus
Now for some wintry stuff photographed around here the last few days:
