Yesterday was magically less miserable than was Sunday. For one thing, it wasn't a Sunday. I managed to read all the way through Chapter Four (having decided to ignore Two and Three) without throwing anything. The book has to be completed. It has to be completed in a single volume. And so, I have a choice:
1) Begin where I left off and push on to THE END.
2) Start over at the end of Chapter One.
I could include more options, but I'll keep it all nice an binary. I believe I have chosen Door Number One, Monty – with a caveat. I'd planned the final
And I'll probably be putting the scene on the abandoned subway platform back in, the one where Quinn meets Richard Upton Pickman.
Just writing that sentence makes me want to throw something.
No rp last night. Two movies. We watched Mary Harron's American Psycho (2000), which I'd never seen. Nor have I read the novel. The first half of the film, I think, works better than the second half. It's on firmer footing as a straightforward character examination and satire, and it sort of begins to ravel when it succumbs to the tyranny of plot. But, you know how it goes, STUFF MUST HAPPEN (in caps), or the scuttlefish grow bored. Mostly, I was fascinated by Christian Bale's frenzied performance, which was quite a bit better than the film in which it occurs. We also watched James Mangold's The Wolverine. Which was fun. And I think that's about the most one can say for an X-Men film. It was fun. If it hadn't been fun, it would have failed. Mostly, I just wanted to see Hugh Jackman stab people with his knuckle claws.
And that was yesterday, give or fucking take.