I spent four hours editing "Our Lady of Tharsis Tholus" yesterday, and it became "Our Lady of Arsia Mons," which was, in fact, it's original title. I'll be spending at least that much time on it again today. Reading over it, I found various ways that it can be better. This is one reason I try not to read my own fiction once it's published. I rarely see anything but the places where I fumbled.
Kathryn and I find ourselves missing Woodstock and the cabin almost all the time. For some reason, I'm missing it a little extra today. Those woods must be beautiful in summer. We've only seen them in autumn and winter. Oh, and I miss being awakened by crows, instead of garbage trucks.
Yesterday was profoundly wretched.
The first episode of the new season on Hannibal is superb, likely one of the best of the series so far. Unfortunately, we followed it with the first episode of the Wachowski's Sense8. I was stunned by its unrelenting awfulness. As I've already said on Facebook, I found it bland as bland can get, ill conceived, poorly acted, with a dash of lousy writing and a side of directorial mediocrity. Think Whedon's Dollhouse. It was that bad. And I tend to count on the Wachowskis to produce, at the very fucking least, something that's pretty to look at. Even the horrid Jupiter Ascending managed that much. But not Sense8. I want to go back to Cloud Atlas and a world where the Wachowskis did great things.
And I need to work. The sun just came out.
* Actually, we hit 74˚F.