Up at 8:30 am. Weight 213.1.
A fairly dead day, until mid-afternoon: email, practical tasks, put something in the mail, wrote an email to (I think) the Mekons' publisher re a mechanical license for the "Last Dance" cover. Attempted to call Sen. Gillibrand's office to protest the Steve Bannon appointment, but rec'd busy signals or full mailboxes at 3 numbers. This, by the standards of my political activism, is guerrilla warfare.
Left at 3. Met Bree at MoMa for two restored (not Restoration) comedies: The Brat (John Ford, 1931), w/ Sally O'Neil putting on the thickest East Side accent ("voigin") this side of the Dead End Kids, and Bachelor's Affair (Alfred L. Werker, 1932), in which Adolphe Menjou entangles and then disentangles himself from a Harlowesque gold-digger (Joan Marsh), w/ the latter taking fuller advantage of pre-Code license. Earlier than I would expected for references to the rumba craze (complete w/ louche dance teacher). Some good lines: "There's a man here with a mustache"/"Tell him I already have a mustache." "Every man has his price, and every woman has her figure." Had dinner together, then went to see Bree's friend Edgar Oliver's modest one-man show, Attorney Street, at Axis Theater. Hard to capture what this was about briefly, but a comment about hoping someday to write something that would making him deserving of a friend struck home.
Got through some of the Gerswhin book over the course of the day, and resumed Susie Timmons' Superior Packets before bed, but that's about it. No prose, skipped daybook (though doubled up yesterday). Lights out 11:30.