Still cold as fuck in Providence.

Today, I begin Chapter Six of Red Delicious. I think there are only seven chapters, and it appears the book will be just about the same length as Blood Oranges. Also, Sirenia Digest #87 just went out to subscribers, so it should be there in your email.

And eBay auctions! With monster doodles!

I think I have a role-play hangover (poor, poor lost Isaac). And a headache. And it's one of those mornings when...okay, one of those afternoons...when I'm having a lot of trouble justifying keeping this blog – or any blog – up and running. My friends list has dwindled to about eight people, half of whom post infrequently. It's hard to believe that, back in the 90s, I was aghast at the very idea of public journals.

Yesterday, we saw Niels Arden Oplev's Dead Man Down. It's a decent enough film. Probably, it was harmed by my expectations and the fact that I'd seen Skyfall just the night before, so suffered by comparison. But it wasn't nearly as dark as I'd expected, and the ending was a bit too on the "love conquers all" side. I have nothing whatsoever against "happy endings." But they need to follow logically from the stories they conclude. Regardless, I adore both Noomi Rapace and Colin Farrell, and they're actors I'd probably be happy to watch while they washed dishes. Probably the worst of it was the way the film's bleak atmosphere and color palette (one of its strong points) so unfortunately mirrored the horrid bleakness of yesterday's weather.

But yeah, we saw Sam Mendes' Skyfall. Wow. I meant to see this at the theater, and, watching it, I was deeply disappointed that I hadn't. It's the sort of film that feels horribly cramped on a TV screen. I loved just about everything about Skyfall, especially this tired, haggard Bond. I think it was a Bond film for Bond lovers. Besides simply being a very good film in its own right. Daniel Craig is amazing. And Javier Bardem was a grand villain, echoing his performance in No Country for Old Men. Three thumbs up.

Oh, and I learned yesterday than Elizabeth Bear and Sarah Monette decided I should be a starship. There is no higher form of flattery.

Okay. There are nouns and adjectives and vowels. And stuff.

Ouch,
Aunt Beast