(1) The computer is the worst enemy of a workaholic with a chest cold.

(2) The iPod is his best friend (especially if he sleeps in a loft).

(3) Don’t watch Red Rock West when you have a fever.

(4) Good movies for invalids: Barbershop, Clueless, Defending Your Life, Speed. (Did you realize that Clueless is now ten years old? Wow.) Also good: Nero Wolfe, Patrick O’Brian, twice- and thrice-read theatrical biographies.

(5) Soup gets tiresome.

(6) Insofar as possible, don’t let unwashed dishes pile up in the sink. The resulting spectacle is depressing and inhibits recovery.

(7) If you have to choose between staying dirty and taking a cold shower, take the shower.

(8) There is no truer friend than the one who offers to run errands for you.

(9) When buying groceries under the influence of antihistamines, don’t just look at the pictures–read the labels.

(10) All cabbies are sadistic psychopaths. Show no weakness!

(11) Yours is not the only blog in the ‘sphere.

– Weekly salary paid to F. Scott Fitzgerald in 1937 for screenwriting duties in Hollywood: $1,000

– The same amount in today’s dollars, courtesy of Inflation Calculator: $13,334.87

(Source: Steve Chagollan, “F. Scott Fitzgerald Gets a Second Act After All,” New York Times, Aug. 21, 2005)

“To have no pride as an actor is fatal. To have the right amount is almost impossible. It gets in the way of good work; the lack of it prevents your taking chances, daring to go further than you have before, risking whatever reputation you have–not with the public, but with your director or playwright. You need to know they will allow you to rehearse awkwardly, embarrassingly, in your search for certain elements in the play. Not carelessly, but with the kind of abandon that only comes with real love.

“Our happiest theatre memories are those when that love exists in equal measures for the actors and the audience. When the play is received as love is received, with trust, unquestioningly. Because it is being given with confidence and truth and, yes, pride. Beautiful pride.”

Marian Seldes, The Bright Lights: A Theatre Life

I’m late, I’m late, for a very important post…I promised you reader movie rants, and they are forthcoming–just not this weekend, which is now last weekend, alas. And I still have a long night ahead of me before I can rest up for next week, which has insidiously but surely turned into this week, right under my insufficiently efficient nose. Wow: I am really, really bad at Sundays. I’ll be back during the week with the goods. Have a nicer Monday than my Sunday, please.

Thank you to everyone who has emailed me with their unfavorite movies. Seems there’s a little Evil Ebert inside all of us, and it is perfectly delighted to be asked out to play. Time has been short, so regretfully I haven’t been able to write most of you back yet. I promise to do so this weekend, and I’ll also share your b

I’ve been invaded by a virus. It must have been sneaking up on me for the past couple of days, but I didn’t realize what it was until early yesterday evening, when I started coughing and feeling increasingly crappy at dinner. I then strolled over to Lincoln Center to see Mark Morris’ L’Allegro, and by the end of the first act I was clammy and exhausted. I stuck it out, but my weak chest and I passed a thoroughly awful night together. I just cancelled out of the show I was going to see tonight, and I’m planning to spend the rest of the day in bed or near it.

More as it happens, but don’t be too terribly surprised if you don’t see much of me here on Monday.

Later.

Friday again, and time for the weekly postmortem…er, Wall Street Journal drama-column teaser. This time around I slit the throat of Lennon and report on Terrence McNally’s Dedication or The Stuff of Dreams:

I give the cast full credit for trying to make something out of nothing, but halfway through the first act I was muttering, “Bring on the deranged assassin!” Alas, “Lennon” needed no Mark David Chapman to supply the coup de gr

To begin with, I want to thank the sharp-eared reader who read this posting about Joseph Taylor’s 1908 recording of “Unto Brigg Fair” and wrote to tell me that it has indeed been transferred to CD. It’s part of English Rhapsody, a really lovely collection of music by Frederick Delius, George Butterworth, and Percy Grainger, performed by Mark Elder and the Hall