They say it's 78˚F out there, and I suppose that seems about right, judging from the chilly coming in my office window. I have pronounced summer over. We have well and truly entered green autumn. It beats me down.
Yesterday, we went back for more. That is, we saw Guardians of the Galaxy again. And it was just as wonderful the second time around.
Today, I'll sit down and put Sirenia Digest #103 together. I just got an email telling me that the CEM for Cherry Bomb is inbound, and that I need to get it back to NYC by the twentieth. I do not relish the thought of reading that ms. again, but at least my editors are kind enough to continue sending me hardcopy CEMs.
I'm not awake.
Night before last, we watched Jonathan Glazer's Under the Skin (2013; adapted from Michel Faber's 2000 novel). I thought is was superb, but I can see why it met with so much derision in certain circles. It's a whisper. A terrible whisper. It's a film about perception and identity and the loss thereof. It requires patience and concentration from the audience. Scarlett Johansson is splendidly eerie, convincingly inhuman. The score by Mica Levi deserves a big thumbs up. The movie is a far simpler story than that told by the novel, or, rather, it strips the story told by the novel down to its bare bones. Which I think was a very wise decision. The cold and perpetually wet bleakness of coastal Scotland is a perfect setting for this raw, chilling film.
Now, I have to try to achieve something approaching a conscious state.