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Yesterday, I wrote only 804 words on the first chapter of Cherry Bomb. And it was the most excruciating, tedious sort of writing day. Simple action. Two characters in a cluttered apartment. One on a sofa. One at the door. Someone on the other side of the door, speaking from the other side of the door. The problem of building necessary tension in an essentially static scene. All the while having to solve simple mechanical issues, such as, "How does one open the cylinder of a Smith and Wesson .44 Magnum?" And having learned how to do it, how does one describe it in the language of this book?

I'd rather be eating broken glass. But I don't get paid to eat broken glass.

I should be at the sea. Or, fuck it. Anywhere that isn't this desk. This fucking chair. It's 74˚F out there, and sunny, and fuck the sky. I'm sick of watching my life slip by from the vantage point of this one goddamn window.

If I'm not writing, I should be writing. The knowledge that I should be writing when I'm not writing makes it impossible for me to enjoy anything that isn't writing, and since I never enjoy writing – ever – well, the math is pretty elementary.

Wow. Until I began the entry I wasn't even quite aware how angry I am at the moment. A shame the government shutdown isn't putting me on furlough. I'd send a love letter to those Tea Party shitwits.

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Please have a look at the current eBay auctions. Because even though the IRS is currently shutdown, I still have to pay my taxes this month. Thank you.

And if you haven't yet preordered a copy of The Ape's Wife and Other Stories, please do. Only $27 from Amazon.

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Last night's movie was Henry King's 1952 adaptation of Ernest Hemingway's "The Snows of Kilimanjaro." It's a film that raises an interesting question: Is a reader duty bound to feel the same way about a film adaptation as the author of the source material feels? I'm fond of the film. It has a lot going for it, despite having departed from Hemingway's story in many respects (the invention of Cynthia Green, the "happy" ending). Hemingway refused to even watch it. I will say that these days it's hard for me to see those beautiful shots Kilimanjaro rising above the African savannah (the film's cinematography is excellent) and think of anything but how so little of the volcano's icecap remains.

To quote from Wikipedia: The period from 1912 to present has witnessed the disappearance of more than 80% of the ice cover on Kilimanjaro. From 1912 to 1953 there was ~1% annual loss, while 1989–2007 saw ~2.5% annual loss. Of the ice cover still present in 2000, 26% had disappeared by 2007. While the current shrinking and thinning of Kilimanjaro's ice fields appears to be unique within its almost twelve millennium history, it is contemporaneous with widespread glacier retreat in mid-to-low latitudes across the globe. At the current rate, Kilimanjaro is expected to become ice-free some time between 2022 and 2033.

This is an icecap with a basal age of 11,700 years, which is to say it survived the retreat of the ice sheets at the end of the last glaciation. But humans will have needed only about a century to erase it. Which, given the protagonists obsession with big-game hunting of species now critically endangered, makes the mountain a very apt symbol standing vigil over the story...though one that is definitely at odds with the hopeful ending of Casey Robinson's screenplay. The ending, from the perspective of 2013, has become darkly ironic. I suppose the "politically correct" thing to do would be to reject this film, but I can't. Its artistic merits are intrinsic and are not negated to a changing climate and a decimated ecosystem. The human story it tells is as powerful as it was in 1952.

I need to be working...since I'm not outside.

Fuck It All,
Aunt Beast

Comments

( 2 comments — Have your say! )
(Deleted comment)
greygirlbeast
Oct. 1st, 2013 07:54 pm (UTC)

I don't know anyone who actually likes their job.

There's just this bullshit popular delusion that writers are supposed to love their work.
sovay
Oct. 2nd, 2013 01:47 am (UTC)
I'm sick of watching my life slip by from the vantage point of this one goddamn window.

If you have the time to come up to Boston for any of these, I am planning on attending several nights, especially this upcoming Friday and Saturday and possibly the two noirs next Tuesday, because I've never seen either one of them.

If you have not, tell me when would be a good week to visit.
( 2 comments — Have your say! )