Yesterday we drove down to Spooky's parents' place in Saunderstown to check on the cat, the chickens, the koi pond. The day was bright and very chilly and the trees were leafless and black as (almost) bleak can be. We didn't spend the night, but headed back home after about an hour or so. At least the sun felt good inside the van. I have some photos of a cold spring day:
The bleak and barren early May of South County.
On one of the Narcissus there was a tiny jumping spider (Salticidae), maybe three or four millimeters long.
Narcissus and Tulipa
All photographs Copyright © 2015 by Caitlín R. Kiernan and Kathryn A. Pollnac
The flowers are there to show that I am not devoid of optimism.
If a David Cronenberg film and a Wes Anderson film shared a transporter accident – no, wait. If David Cronenberg decided to make an homage to Wes Anderson – no, that's not it, either. If Cronenberg and Wes Anderson joined forces to remake Paul Thomas Anderson's Magnolia (1999) it would be Maps to the Stars. It's really rather brilliant. Fortunately, I was stoned, and I think the marijuana made it possible for me to appreciate the black, black humor. Otherwise, I likely would have balked at the very thought of a Cronenberg comedy. Julianne Moore is wonderfully vile, and Mia Wasikowska is always awesome. And has anyone else caught onto the way, as he grows as an actor, Robert Pattison seems to be channeling Montgomery Clift, with just a dash of Paul Newman?
Unfortunately, we followed Maps to the Stars with Dracula Untold, directed by someone named Gary Shore, a film that distills into a single 93-minute package all the worst that 3D can do to cinema. 3D and schlock. Seemingly determined to produce a hybrid of Bram Stoker's Dracula and Jackson's The Lord of the Rings (because, you know, we need that), Shore manages to create nothing better than a dull, dull, dull B movie. Charles Dance was kinda cool, though; he seemed to be having fun, at least.
And I slept, six or six and a half hours. The best night's sleep I've had in several days.