January is the month for dreaming.
Jean Hersey
I don’t have as many adventures to share from this past month, as most of them took place in my head. Overall, it was a rich and fulfilling period of getting back into the rhythm of being a legal professional, navigating Michigan snow and ice, and saturating myself in film and literature.
I think I beat my record for number of films watched, but I can’t be certain as I haven’t always tracked this. I finally subscribed to the Criterion Channel and even managed a few escapes to the movie theater. This deeper descent into cinematic paradise is due in no small part to Letterboxd, which I joined over the holidays — tentatively at first, but rapidly going all-in.
Oh how do I love Letterboxd, let me count the ways … replete with reviews, well-researched articles covering the film-making process, and of course stats. Lots and lots of stats. The more of your personal film experiences you enter, the more the stats page draws you in. Who knew that my highest rated genre would be Western Frontier Dramas with a Touch of Humor? I sure didn’t. If you’re a fellow cinephile or knew my father even just a little bit, you can likely imagine how much joy this has given me.
Then there are the books. As was the case last year, I tasted from a variety of genres; everything from a Lynn Nottage stageplay to dystopian fantasy series installments from Samantha Shannon and Pierce Brown to brilliant literary works by Octavia Butler and Alice Munro. Ten books in all, which coincidentally (or not) is exactly what I accomplished last January.
All that said, I tend to not let too much time go by without getting out and about. My favorite keys player put a fantastic show together at Cliff Bell’s in Detroit featuring pop songs mashed up with jump jazz, torch, and tiki bar ambiance. Despite it being one of the iciest, messiest, crappiest weather days of the season, I made it — and they made it worth my while.
The last day of the month was memorable as well. My company went big again for our All Company Meeting, and I had a front row seat to the spectacular spectacle that we’ve come to expect yet always be amazed by (granted the dance floor was the “true” front).
And so it goes.
Muttering Retreats 