AboutEnnis grew up in Cincinnati, the sixth of ten children. In his first life he was an actor and singer; embarking on his second, he completed his BA at Empire State College, where he was a Richard Porter Leach Fellow.
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They died too young. That’s one of the ways certain deaths acquire the sheen of tragedy. It’s never that way with long-timers who’ve earned every nail in their coffins: Lou Reed, for one, lived so many professional and personal lives, well, it’s not as if he died unfulfilled. Most of those elderly titans can rest…
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That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, William Shakespeare, Sonnet 73 Don’t’ be fooled by those guys still wearing flip-flops, or the young (and not so) women who continue to stroll our avenues in their Daisy…
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I could think of no greater tribute than posting some works of Barbara Kruger, many of which read like metaphors for the state of closetness. A toast…to self.
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The light at the end of a tunnel riddled with residency applications, re-writes and paper grading–The Good Wife returns tonight, and if you’ve yet to tune in to one of TV’s finest hours, you’re missing out. Aside from the dearly departed The Hour, this is only viewing date I’m ever sad to miss. Great acting,…
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Some are born to leave their mark. Lately we’ve lost so many who have that late summer feels a touch more autumnal; now we have to get used to life without Eydie Gorme, Elmore Leonard, Dennis Farina, Emile Griffith, Walter DeMaria, Virginia E. Johnson, Esther Williams, James Gandolfini, and Michael Ansara, not to mention Helen…
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An original. She was an actress whose best roles came in film’s last golden age (the 70s), a cross-eyed wildling embued with sex appeal and a fierce intelligence, no surprise for someone who entered college at the age of 15. Retrospective: Five Easy Pieces (winning an Oscar nomination as well as the Golden Globe and…
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No, not Angie. Emily, the original Goth Girl, sums up summer beautifully in this poem, courtesy of DailyLit: A something in a summer’s Day As slow her flambeaux burn away Which solemnizes me. A something in a summer’s noon— A depth—an Azure—a perfume— Transcending ecstasy. And still within a summer’s night A something so transporting bright…
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Gloomy Sunday: shame to get this news upon waking. What a charming young actor–check out this obit in the Chicago Tribune. R.I.P. sweet prince…
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To draw comparisons between the current Broadway production of Macbeth and the New York Historical Society’s just opened exhibition AIDS in New York: The First Five Years seems a reach. Yet after seeing both in the same week, my thoughts drift to issues of mortality, not to mention body counts. Anyone who lived in New…
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