It’s Luis Buñuel’s birthday. I saw UN CHIEN ANDALOU and Cocteau’s BLOOD OF A POET on a double bill at The New Yorker *by myself* when I was about 7 years old, mid 1960s.

Any wonder why I am the way I am….? I had no idea what I was in for. It was a lacerating, galvanizing experience. I went back at least three times that week.